Wimsey's Blog:Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #144

Entry #144
November 13, 2009

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from New York’s Upper West Side where despite some gloomy weather I have been dispensing my usual brand of Hound cheer. Usually this takes the form of thunderous bays, airborne drool and clouds of stink, but sometimes it’s as simple as chewing a stick. They are not visible here but at one point I had a crowd of people watching me retrieve this stick from behind the railing. Of course the stick retrieving was all in aid of introducing a delay into the process of leaving the park and the audience and subsequent chatting did provide extra assistance for this important endeavor. I suppose very much like celebrities everywhere, even my most trivial activities are observed and discussed with great interest.

Admirer 1: Oh look there’s Wimsey! How exciting! He’s sniffing that bush. Isn’t he magnificent? He looks even bigger in person.

Admirer 2: I wonder what kind of bush he’s sniffing? Can we buy that kind of bush? Or perhaps he’ll autograph it for us.

Admirer 1: I’m not sure you’d want his actual bush autograph. But all the bush sniffing has produced a wad of drool. Quick if we get close enough perhaps he’ll fling some on us. I’ve never been drooled on by a celebrity before; I'll be the envy of all my friends.

Admirer 2: And what is he wearing today? Is that a new raincoat?

Admirer 1: Yes and I believe it is designed by Outward Hound. I wonder if they make one in my size.

Admirer 2: And look how buff he is. What’s his secret? How can a dog that eats Grom gelato stay so ripped. What gym does he go to? I want to join!

Admirer 1: I read in Hound Magazine that he attributes his svelte figure to towing hundred pound plus humans around the city for hours and hours and hours and then more hours.

Admirer 2: Does he have a fitness video I can buy?

Admirer 1: I don’t think he wants to share his secrets. In fact he is not big on sharing anything. It’s an integral part of his philosophy. He’s very spiritual you know, he’s following a Houndist path. But of course everyone shares with him on account of the fact that he’s so cute. It’s all part of Houndism.

Admirer 2: Can I become a Houndist? I’m eager to join an exclusive celebrity cult that no one’s heard of yet. Is there a Maharsihi involved?

Admirer 1: I think you’re a couple of legs short of their requirements. In any case I doubt you could pass the nose test—you have to be able to identify people on the street who haven’t changed their underwear and embarrass them.

Admirer 2: I guess that could be pretty tough. Also I’d probably get arrested. But what about Wimsey’s beauty secrets--what shampoo does he use and who does his hair?

Admirer 1: I read that he uses a special formula that is quite hard to find. It’s called the Griminator and as far as his hair, he is a big believer in the tousled just got off the bed look. I understand he washes his hair as little as possible so as to enable it to retain its natural oils and fragrance. But I did hear a rumor that he enhanced the luster with Crown Royal Finishing spray and a good rub with a chamois cloth.

Admirer 2: Ooh! I’ll buy those immediately. I want to be just like him.

Admirer 1: Yes, everybody does.


Anyway today is Friday 13th which is supposed to be unlucky but my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth are never unlucky since they get to spend so much time in the presence of an adorable towing, lap sitting, food filching, bone crushing Hound such as myself. I mean how lucky is that?

Well it has been a pretty good week here although on Sunday there was an attempt to get me to wear the Goofy Hat that Elizabeth brought back from Disney World. Fortunately it did not fit very well so the effect was not as aesthetically pleasing as the ladies had hoped and I expect that I will get to wreak my revenge on it shortly. Personally I think it will make a much better stuffed toy than hat.

And on Sunday, in addition to the park, we ran around the neighborhood doing errands which mostly entailed my trying to trash pet stores while the ladies shopped for a big enough bag of new food for me (I am switching to Orijen) and hanging out in front of Fairway which I routinely turn into the Hound Information Center and Wimsey Petting Zoo.

Also during the week I decided to augment my afternoon walk by exiting Central Park at Fifth Avenue and checking out the goings on at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (for those of you who miss our little visits to the Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art ((wimseyhoundart.blogspot.com)) I am hoping to arrange a visit again soon). As you know I am a well known art connoisseur and as an added bonus the Met’s plaza is now crowded with food carts which adds considerably to the olfactory pleasure of the experience.

Here I am in front of the Met and I am especially pleased with my fierce “Warrior Wimsey” pose in honor of the Art of the Samurai sign. But of course being a warrior is unnecessary for a Hound; we get what we want by less violent if more devious means. A Hound that uses force needs some classes in remedial Houndship, the whole point being that we make people actually want to give us what we want. Sometimes they think it is their idea and sometimes they just give up in the face of our relentless persistence. But we Hounds are nothing if not students of Sun Tzu and his Art of War (“All war is based on deception” and “The greatest conqueror is he who overcomes the enemy without a blow.”). On this basis alone I am sure Sun Tzu was an admirer of Hounds. The Samurai of course lived in Japan and not China and had a code of which we Hounds would have found uncongenial—obedience, loyalty, honor, etc. These things are best left to the humans who serve us.

The Code of the Hound
Never give up
Never give up
Never give up
Never give up
Never even think about giving up

Anyway, I had some more fun in the park this week with Elizabeth’s friend Nancy and her little daughter Alicia. Alicia is getting quite brave and even had the courage to touch me. But one of the best things about Alicia, apart from her interest in me, is the fact that she is often in possession of meals which she chooses not to eat. Well, of course waste is a terrible thing and I would not like to see Nancy feel bad about wasting food, so I often generously step in and offer my alimentary services. Here I am being fed a tasty hot dog. And Alicia has also been observing my tactics for delaying the end of our visits to the park. Now just like me, she begins walking v-e-r-y slowly and climbing up on park benches and refusing to move. She is an excellent pupil. Nancy says that I am a bad influence, but at least she hasn’t started chewing sticks. Nevertheless I think it is the duty of a sagacious Hound like myself to impart my wisdom to the next generation of cute manipulative beings. In any case if Nancy has too much trouble she can always go on one of those nanny TV shows like Nanny 911. Personally I think there should be one for Hounds.

Hound Nanny 911

Client: Hound Nanny, thank heavens you’re here! My Hounds are making me crazy.

Hound Nanny: They’re Hounds. They’re supposed to. But let me analyze the situation, tell you what you are doing wrong and humiliate you on national television.

Client: Sounds great!

Hound Nanny: Perhaps it’s not the Hounds that are making you crazy. Maybe you were born that way. Now first, let’s talk about exercise. Most people think the Hound is a dog, but really the Hound is a nose (also a stomach and another equally crucial bit which we won’t go into right now) and the nose must be appeased constantly. This entails many hours of happy outdoor fun watching your Hound stick his nose into disgusting smelly things and using it to track down even more disgusting smellier things. Do you ever attempt to get your Hounds to heel?

Client: Yes, Hound Nanny. We watch all the TV shows that say this is the way to get the Hounds under control.

Hound Nanny: The words “hound” and “control” should never be used in the same sentence. You’ll live longer. Anyway, heeling is inimical to the health and well being of the Hound. Besides they’ll get a lot more exercise if they’re towing you. You must learn the two acceptable Hound walking positions: Position One (which I call The Pose of the Tight Rope Walker): In this position, the leash is held in one hand with the arm and shoulder fully extended creating a smooth and beautiful line. The body is angled sideways whilst the remaining arm trails gracefully in the air for balance. The stability of this elegant and classic position is such that it can be assumed both at the walk and at the trot (Yours. Hounds, especially those familiar with the show ring prefer to gallop or to pace). Position Two (which I call The Pose of the Terrified Water Skier) is an excellent position for remaining upright when your Hound is feeling exceptionally frisky. The leash is grasped firmly with both hands, the knees are slightly bent and the abdominal muscles are engaged, all of which provides maximal stability in the face (or backside) of a powerfully towing Hound. The voice must remain quiet as yelling such things as “stop,” “slow down” or “help” will only encourage the Hound’s vigorous nature.

Client: Thank you Hound Nanny. And if the Hounds are tired will they behave?

Hound Nanny: No. At least not while they are awake. But all the exercise will encourage a more extended napping process. And in aid of this, the Hounds must be allowed to nap wherever they choose, even (and especially) if it is in a space already occupied by you.

Client: And what about the fact that the Hounds like to steal my food and possessions?

Hound Nanny: Sharing with your Hounds will increase your bond with them. They’re going to get your stuff anyway so you might as well make it look like it was your idea. Yelling at them will only increase their fun. And look on the bright side, the Hounds will give you the opportunity to constantly redecorate your home, re-landscape your yard and buy a new wardrobe. Also, all those unwanted Christmas and birthday gifts make excellent regifts for the Hounds.

Client: And how about when the Hounds slime my guests, knock them over or make them smelly?

Hound Nanny: Get new friends. Preferably those with Hounds. Anyway, after you’ve all enjoyed a strong cocktail the Hounds won’t seem so bad.


And of course no week would be complete without a little playtime with one of my friends. This is Jada the majestic brindle Great Dane. On our last meeting she declined to play with me but my manly charms have at last won her over (or maybe it is the beauty of my flying flews and ears).

Anyway, we are all hoping for a bit better weather around here and as the holidays will soon be upon us I am making my list and checking it twice as I intend to get everything I want and to give my humans nothing. It’s the Houndist way.
Until next time,

Maharishi Mahesh Wimsey, author of Houndism: How to Make Humans Your Slave By Being Loud, Smelly and Obnoxious

Wimsey"s Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #143

Entry #143
November 6, 2009

Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey coming to you from my personal fiefdom of Houndistan on Hudson, otherwise known as New York City’s Upper West Side, where this week my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth escorted me to view the New York City Marathon!

More about my exciting Sunday adventures in a minute, but first an update on the Disney Hat Modeling situation. If you saw last week’s post you know that I was coerced into modeling a Mickey Mouse hat owing to the fact that Elizabeth had been to Orlando. My humans were hoping that this week Elizabeth could photograph me wearing an even sillier hat once she was able to attach elastic straps. Well it turns out that, elastic straps or no, I am so much enamored of this new hat and have evinced such a frenzied desire to play (shred) with it that for the nonce it is of necessity sequestered on a high shelf in Elizabeth’s coat closet. This new episode of Disney Hat Modeling is clearly going to be a two human operation and when it occurs I plan on making last Christmas’ Santa Hat Modeling session look like a walk in the park by comparison. So stay tuned.

And speaking of walks (or more accurately tows) in the park, this week’s four hour Sunday extravaganza was so incredibly fun (at least for me) that it has been documented with an unusually large number of photographs which I hope you will enjoy viewing. Usually a picture is worth a thousand words but as I am a rather chatty kind of a Hound you get the thousand words as well.

So first of all, I knew Sunday was gong to be a great day because on the way to the park I ran into one of my good buddies of the constabular persuasion, Officer Wendt. Now in addition to keeping New York City streets safe for New York’s law abiding citizens Officer Wendt also keeps the 20th precinct safe from invasive, drool flinging, uniform smearing Hounds such as myself. Here you see me on one of my many reconnaissance missions casing the joint for future expeditions all the while being held under close surveillance by this diligent officer.

Well as if that were not exciting enough, Sunday was the New York City Marathon—a day whose public festivity is substantially enhanced by the presence of some of the finest distance running athletes, professional and amateur, from all around the globe. As a fine distance towing athlete myself, I am of course a big fan of the Marathon. I want my humans to get one of those devices that will tell them exactly how many miles I tow but they are afraid of what it would show. Apparently, after all having frequently wondered what would possess someone to voluntarily run twenty six miles they greatly fear that the device would make them wonder what would possess them to let me tow them twenty six miles. And instead of the plaudits that conventional marathoners receive, my humans get people laughing at them and asking who is walking whom (all except the Hound people who already know the answer to that question).

Anyway, we started off on Sunday going north on Central Park West as my usual park entrance was closed. And as we progressed up the avenue I noticed a truly impressive number of languages being spoken. Fortunately, everyone also spoke Hound and I was much admired and photographed by this international crowd of well wishers. I am sure the pleasure that they all felt in seeing their friends and family complete an amazing feat of endurance was greatly enhanced by meeting me. (Of course living with me is also a great feat of endurance but, sadly for my humans, I am still always the one who is on the receiving end of the admiration). But I digress. When we got to the next park entrance we found that there was a police barricade at that entrance also, but fortunately I was recognized by some of the officers (“Hey that’s the dog that’s always hanging around the precinct!”) and I was immediately escorted through the barrier. Having friends in blue is almost as good as having friends in black and tan.

And of course no large public event would be complete without the presence of New York’s mounted police. As you can well imagine, for me, the combination of police officers + horses=ecstasy, as in addition to my well known fondness for New York’s finest, I am also a devote of all thing equine—especially those mounds of delicious snacks they leave behind.

Well finally as we walked along the bridle path we were able to actually view the runners. This interested me greatly—the noise, the smells the excitement—and I generously bayed my approbation at them. I notice that people seem to run a whole lot faster when there is a very large Hound baying at them so I am sure that I was able to improve their running times substantially.


But we Hounds are also expert marathoners:

Hamper Marathon: Medal awarded for the maximum amount of time a Hound can stay in possession of a pair of purloined panties.

Sit Stay Marathon: A test of the maximum number of times a human can issue obedience commands with absolutely no result.

Bed Hogging Marathon: Longest number of hours a Hound can command the majority of space on a bed. An extra medal awarded for loud snoring and the actual shoving off of a human.

Digging a Hole to China Marathon: Medal awarded for greatest amount of soil displaced in a single digging expedition. A companion medal to:

The Frederick Law Olmstead/Calvin Vaux Marathon: Largest number of plants, flowers, shrubs, vegetable gardens, etc. dug up in the shortest amount of time.

Food Hawking Marathon: Medal awarded for fastest times in acquiring and hawking down the greatest number of unauthorized and illicit food items.

The “I’ll Go My Way and You’ll Go My Way Too” Marathon: Medal awarded for persistence in dragging humans in directions in which they had no intention of going.

The Bay Watch Marathon: Medal awarded for the longest amount of time furiously baying at exactly the same person, object, animal, activity, etc. (bikinis optional).

The Mule vs. Hound Marathon: A lifetime contest definitively proving that the mule is not the world’s stubbornest animal.

Anyway, finally we left the marathoners behind and set off on our own four hour mini-marathon in the northern part of the park where the autumnal serenity was spectacular. However, it did seem as though I had to be photographed in front of every colorful tree--autumn being almost as bad in this regard as the dreaded flowering tree season. I swear my humans know the trees so well by now that they probably have names for all of them. I too have names for all of them-- the large tree I like to pee on, the even larger tree I like to pee on, the tree with the bent branched that I like to pee on, the tree with all the acorns that I like to pee on, the skinny tree next to the bush that I like to pee on, etc. It is abundantly clear that trees along with their resident squirrels were put on this earth for the edification of the Hound.

Well just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, on our way home the nice lady in the Malin+Goetz luxury personal care products boutique invited me in to do a little shopping (I refer you blog post #125 for a description of the Malin+Goetz+ Wimsey product line). And of course what shopping expedition would be complete without a break for a belly rub. I was, however, not permitted to put my paws up on the counter as there were candles burning there and although my humans were resigned to me sliming the pristine premises they drew the line at me actually burning the place down.

So after this great Sunday, how could the week get any better? Well it turns out that I have magical powers. If I want something all I have to do is stare at it fixedly or bay at it and it suddenly becomes mine. Like on Tuesday when I was strolling back to Elizabeth’s with the utmost lack of speed as is my usual end of the walk custom, when we ran into one of my ardent neighborhood admirers. As we approached it became apparent that the woman was not only sitting on her stoop enjoying the fine weather but she was also enjoying a roast beef sandwich-- an experience I profoundly believe ought to be shared. So I merely sat down next to her, projected an intense and worshipful admiration of this roast beef sandwich until she asked Elizabeth “Oh, does Wimsey want this sandwich?” Elizabeth, perspicaciously opined that yes, indeed, Wimsey does probably want the sandwich (no flies on her, although plenty of Hound hair). It was quite delicious and then afterwards I was petted, scratched and rubbed in a most exhaustive and pleasing manner (all the while avoiding the actual end of the walk), so yes, things can always get better.

Of course then next day I also engaged in some energetic baying in pursuit of someone’s hot dog but they turned out not to have as generous a nature as most New Yorkers. For instance, yesterday as I was lounging about Bethesda Fountain posing handsomely for tourist’s photographs, I encountered this lady (we had actually run into her the day before when she also took some pictures of me) and her soft pretzel. A few judicious bays were all it took and she was quite happy to share her pretzel with me. New Yorkers are known for their sophisticated appreciation of the finer things in life and I must say, their taste in Hounds (and food) is impeccable.

Anyway, I am really enjoying the beautiful autumn weather we are having here and especially the abundance of leaves which even when dry can be surprisingly slippery (not for me of course) which only adds to the frisky fun. My humans are convinced that I am deliberately trying to injure them. This is completely untrue of course—the injuring of them is an entirely unexpected fringe benefit.

Well I think that about wraps it up for this week. I must prepare for my next marathon—the one I like to call “so you think you can do that while I am around?”

Until next time,

Wimsey, Marathon Hound

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #142

Entry #142
October 30, 2009

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where preparations are in full swing for both Halloween and the New York City Marathon. And for Halloween this year I will be dressed in my traditional costume representing a smelly, loud, obnoxious, yet somehow incredibly charming and lovable, Hound. Unfortunately as you can see from this week’s opening photo I was forced to don a pair of Mickey Mouse ears owing to the fact that my human Maria’s friend Elizabeth spent a little time at Disney World last week. There is an even more outrageous hat in the works but apparently elastic straps have to be constructed in order for me to wear it--it having been determined that the hat was not designed to fit on a large flat and pointy head. Elizabeth is in charge of constructing the straps so if her sewing skills are anything like her cooking skills I am confident that the next humiliating Disney hat won’t happen. Stay tuned.

Anyway, Elizabeth’s trip to Disney World got me thinking about how much fun it would be to visit a Hound centered theme park. It could be called Hound World.

Major Attractions at Wimsey’s Hound World

Hound Mountain: Visitors get to search frantically though a mound of personal possessions in various stages of mastication that have been stolen from their hotel rooms.

Big Bay Railroad: Children and adults alike will thrill to the terrifying sensation of being dragged down numerous flights of stairs by a Hound overly eager to get to where he is going who is emitting excited thunderous bays.

Hound Jamboree: A show that is a veritable festival of Houndiness. Realistic animatronic Hounds bay, kick dirt in viewer’s faces and steal their food and personal items.

Splash Mountain: An exciting roller coaster where participants are surrounded by head shaking Hounds whose salivary apparatus has been stimulated by the alluring smell of frying liver.

Wimsey’s Island (formerly Tom Sawyers Island): Tom left the island after realizing that there was actually someone naughtier and more insubordinate than he. Also he couldn’t stand the smell. Visitors to the island explore houses with chewed up drywall, fall into holes cleverly dug into the ground, sit on cushionless couches that buckle under people’s weight owing to extensive chewing of the legs, forage for food in empty refrigerators, climb over mounds of ripped up garbage bags and slide down hills of chewed underpants. Visitors are advised to check all personal items. (As of this writing the island must be reached by swimming as the ferry has been set adrift owing to a chewed up tow rope).

Space Mountain: In this ride, visitors engage in an exciting fight for space—space on the couch, space on the bed, space behind the wheel of the car, space in the kitchen and that all important space in the bathroom.

Wimsey’s Scary Adventures: This is the ride in which participants must answer that scary question—“What has Wimsey eaten now?!” and predict the shocking size of the ensuing vet bill.

Buzz Wimsey’s Yellow Laser Spin: In this ride visitors armed with Hound shaped lasers attempt to use its lifted leg to hit trees, bushes, flowers, fire hydrants and fences. Extra points are awarded for hitting cars, purses left on the floor and humans who disapprove of large smelly Hounds.

Wimsey’s Carousel: This is a wonderful ride where humans sit on seats shaped like all the breeds of Hound, each with its own distinctive and revolting smell. (Sickness bags optional).

Hound Speedway: In this attraction visitors vie to catch a fleeing Hound in possession of the family’s Sunday roast. After they become exhausted, visitors enjoy the pleasure of watching the Hound eat the roast at his leisure under the dining room table.

The Many Adventures of Wimsey the Poop: On this ride visitors must uncover and collect excrement from all the ingenious places that famously clever Hound Wimsey has found to deposit his poop. A chiropractor is on call for those injuries caused by trying to access all those hard to reach places.

Dumbo the Stupid Human: A ride consisting of chairs shaped like people petting Hounds, feeding hounds, beaming at Hounds, photographing Hounds giving Hounds belly rubs, sharing the couch with Hounds and letting Hounds steal the remote control.

Hounds of the Caribbean: An educational attraction in which visitors travel by boat through a series of Hound infested Caribbean islands where they learn where the pirates got all their ideas from.

It’s A Small World and It All Belongs to Me: An inspiring display of children of all the world’s nationalities crying while their Hounds eat their favorite toys.

The Mad Tea Party: Visitors run in circles while attempting to drink a cup of tea and eat a slice of cake whilst in the presence of a pack of hungry Hounds.

Wimsey’s Haunted Mansion: Instead of the ghosts, visitors to the mansions are annoyed by Hounds pretending to be ghosts wearing the elegant sheets they have stolen from Disney’s best resort hotels.

The Magic Carpets of Wimsey: A carousel where visitors get to choose whether to ride on chewed up carpets, peed on carpets, hair infested carpets or carpets that consist of only the carpet padding that has been left behind.

Non-Jungle Cruise: Visitors ride a boat up the Hudson and East rivers where they view dioramas of animatronic Hounds trashing some of the most expensive real estate on the planet.

Wimsey’s Carousel of Non-Progress: Guests are seated in a moving theater in the round that rotates between tableaux of various stages of Hound training.

Featured tableaux:

Housebreaking: We watch as baby Wimsey’s human walks him for hours pleading for excretory activity and we laugh with delight as he barrels through the door and pees on the carpet;

Obedience: Watch as Young Wimsey decides that the other dogs in his obedience class are much more interesting than his human yelling “sit” and brandishing a hot dog. We snicker as the young Hound is eventually expelled because the teacher cannot be heard over his baying.

Modeling: Watch as Adult Wimsey wreaks havoc at professional photo shoots by interpreting the words “sit, stay” as bay, jump up and grab the treat.

Show Dog Training: Howl along with Wimsey’s humans as he learns to pace over cavalettis, gallop around the show ring, slime judges, serenade his fellow contestants, try to make a love connection with the lady Hounds and engage in his trademark display of spirited stack dancing during the judge’s examination.


I think Hound World would a fantastic educational venue as well. No longer would humans be posting shocked and frantic missives on Hound messages boards on the order of “Why is my Hound doing this and what can I do to make him stop!” Having visited Hound World, they will know that he is doing it because he is a Hound and no, you won’t be able to make him to stop, so suck it up. And some humans are just gluttons for punishment, like the Dutch fellow I met yesterday who confessed that at one time he lived with ten bloodhounds (my humans can hardly cope with one—what wusses!). Of course he also signed up to voluntarily run 26 miles.

Now I love Marathon Week in New York City---I get to meet and greet and be admired by an entirely new group of visitors all with the vim and vigor to administer some energetic scratching. And there was even rather a competition to photograph me yesterday as I strolled past the statue of that canine marathoner, Balto. (I wonder if he has as many photographs taken of him as I do). I am sure all these marathoners would improve their times if I were towing ferociously at the other end of their leash.

Anyway, this has been a good week here (mouse ears aside). On Sunday I met these guys who were delighted by my attempts to get my mouth on their water bottle. And we also ran into this beautiful girl bulldog puppy called Charlie. My humans were entranced by her Churchillian good looks and she was entranced by their Fairway turkey. We also had a spot of wet weather which enabled me to model my new Outward Hound raincoat in which I was much admired. And of course this is my favorite season, wet or dry, owing to the abundance of smelly leaves upon which to conduct my vast amounts of business (my humans being convinced that much of my majestic 125lbs is owing to bladder and alimentary canal). And then I spent another afternoon strolling around the park with Elizabeth’s friend Nancy and her young daughter, Alicia, who fed me hamburger and French fries and no longer looks terrified when I bay. Small children with large meals are one of New York City’s great natural resources.

But really I am just happy to have my entourage back at full strength —luckily none of the pilots on Elizabeth’s plane decided to play with their laptops mid-flight. Frankly that sounds like something I would do if I were a pilot as I tend to get bored rather easily. So I suppose it is a good thing that the only flying I do is down the stairs. My humans of course might disagree.

Well, I hope you all have an enjoyable Halloween and that you don’t get stuffed into any humiliating costumes. Although I must say I never quite got the concept of trick OR treat. We Hounds are never dissuaded from perpetrating tricks by the mere application of treats—Trick AND Treat is more in our line—tricks for humans and treats for us. That is the natural order of things. And if your humans happen to wake up Sunday morning and find their domicile trashed, just swear it was ghosts.

Until next time,

Wimsey, W-I-M…. S-E-Y, H-o-u-n-d (it worked for Mickey, didn’t it?)

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry #141

October 23, 2009

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from sun and fun filled New York City where I am, as usual, holding court for the adoring humans of Manhattan’s Upper West Side. I don’t know, sometimes I think that all the admiration and adulation will go to my head and I’ll become demanding and obnoxious.

Of course my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth already consider me demanding and obnoxious-- very much in the style of my idol Gordon Ramsey. In fact, the ladies often think I am a tad too much like him for their own good. And I will admit that like Gordon, I am something of a perfectionist, especially with regard to matters concerning my own personal comfort:

Hell Hound’s Kitchen

Hell Hound: SOMEONE! THERE’S DROOL IN MY WATER BOWL!! THAT’S DISGUSTING! YOU CAN’T SERVE ME WATER LIKE THAT. LOOK AT IT! WOULD YOU DRINK THAT WATER!

Human: No Hound. But then again I don’t drool in my water in the first place.

Hell Hound: NONE OF YOUR LIP MADAME. CHANGE THIS WATER IMMEDIATELY!

Human: Yes Hound.

Hell Hound: WHY IS MY KIBBLE BOWL EMPTY!? MY KIBBLE BOWL SHOULD NEVER BE EMPTY. THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF FREE FEEDING YOU LAZY DONKEY. NOW GET THIS BOWL FILLED. AND THE KIBBLE HAD BETTER BE FRESH! AND SCRAMBLE SOME EGGS FOR IT TOO. IT’S BLAND! I WOULDN’T FEED THIS TO A DOG!

Human: Yes Hound. Right on it Hound.

Hell Hound: NOOO! NOT AGAIN! WHERE’S MY STUFFED DOG?!

Human: It’s under the couch, Hound.

Hell Hound: WHAT’S IT DOING UNDER THERE!

Human: You shoved it under there, Hound.

Hell Hound: AND IF I STUFFED YOU UNDER THERE TOO WOULD YOU STAY UNDER THERE, YOU MORON! THE STUFFED DOG IS NEVER TO BE LEFT UNDER THE COUCH. DO YOU UNDERSTAND! HE’S VERY SENSITIVE.

Human: Yes Hound. Understood Hound.

Hell Hound: WHAT’S THIS! WHERE IS THE SOFT SHEET FOR THE BED THAT I LIKE TO NAP ON!

Human: I forgot to put it on Hound.

Hell Hound: YOU FORGOT! YOU FORGOT! JUST DO IT!

Human: Yes Hound!

Hell Hound: AND WHY ARE YOU ON THE BED WITH ME!

Human: I thought you might like some company, Hound.

Hell Hound: YOU’RE CROWDING ME! YOU’RE HUGE! GET OFF OF MY BED NOW BEFORE I SHOVE YOU OFF!

Human: Yes Hound!

Hell Hound: STOP! WHY IS THIS GENTLE LEADER ON MY MUZZLE!

Human: Because we’re going down five flights of stairs and I want to stay alive.

Hell Hound: YOU’RE PATHETIC!

Human: Yes Hound. I know.

Hell Hound: WELL I AM FEELING GENEROUS TODAY, SO I HAVE A SPECIAL TREAT FOR YOU. I AM GOING TO DEMONSTRATE THE PROPER WAY TO CLEAN OUT A REFRIGERATOR.

Human: Thank you Hound!

But I know my humans forgive me all my small foibles (and large bruises), especially when they opened up this Saturday’s NY Post and saw a picture of my handsome mug and a cute write up about my fierce desire to track down police officers in order to get them to pet me. And all because of a small chat I had with a reporter at last week’s AKC’s Meet the Breeds press conference. And quite satisfyingly, the picture of one of the actually obedient dogs at the press conference was on the next page and was smaller than mine. Let’s face it, naughty dogs are just more entertaining than obedient ones—especially if you don’t happen to be the person responsible for it. We Hounds are the masters of schadenfreude. To know me is to love me. Or else to be appalled. I think it depends on which side of the leash you happen to be.

But I am handsome charming, amusing and witty—in fact a lot like the fellow I was named after, Dorothy L. Sayers suave British sleuth, Lord Peter Wimsey. Apparently the New Yorker magazine is having a contest for the dog best dressed like a fictional character and the ladies were discussing the possibility of me wearing a monocle and top hat and tails like Lord Peter. But of course even if such items could be procured in my size, the problem becomes how on earth to get me to wear them. Maybe the ladies should start with something less ambitious—like getting me to sit.

Anyway, Dorothy L. Sayers wrote all these lively mysteries about Lord Peter Wimsey in the 1920s and 30s and as a great admirer of hers, I have my own versions:

Dorothy L. Sayers Oeuvre (Wimsey Oeuvre)

Busman’s Honeymoon (Human’s Honeymoon Spent Sleeping on the Couch Because the Hound Has Left You No Room in the Bed).

Gaudy Night (Gaudy Clothing Covered in Drool)

The Nine Tailors (The Nine Tailors Who Became Rich Repairing Clothing of People Who Live With Hounds)

Murder Must Advertise (A Hound Must Advertise That You Are a Fool)

Have His Carcass (Have the Turkey Carcass Out of the Garbage Bin)

Five Red Herrings (Zero Red Herrings and One Hound With Fish Breath)

Strong Poison (Strong Gin and Tonic: It's What You Feel Like Taking After a Day Spent With Me)

The Documents in the Case (The Shredded Documents in the Case)

The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club (The Unpleasantness On the Club Chair)

Lord Peter Views the Body (Hound Wimsey Crushes the Body)

Unnatural Death (The Unnatural Life My Humans Lead Because They Have To Take Care of Me)

Clouds of Witness (Clouds of Noxious Gas)

Who’s Body? (Who’s Panties?)

But anyway, on Saturday Elizabeth actually went to the Meet the Breeds event and speculated about what it would have been like if I had been invited and all the gin and tonics she would have had to have consumed in order to recover from it. And the breed booths were quite elaborate-for example, the one displaying Afghans looked like a desert tent (it really should have looked like a dessert tent since the Afghan is a Hound after all). The bloodhound booth was very tasteful—deceptively so. A more accurate booth would have consisted of piles of shredded books and newspapers, chewed up gloves and shoes, eaten furniture, an artistic mound of partially masticated cushions and a mob of screaming humans. In addition, the walls of the booth would have been papered with an extravagant design of vet bills and letters of complaint from irate neighbors. And of course everything, especially the people manning the booth would be coated with drool, arrayed in both blotch and slinger designs.

But it has been a good week overall, although not nearly as exciting as last week. We did have some wet, cold weather which prompted a raincoat shopping expedition—for me of course. My original yellow slicker ripped owing to the fact that it was a bit tight and its replacement arrived too small. More sizism! So off we paced to the pet store to buy a fancy raincoat—here I am shopping and trying it on. We bought the coat you see, only in a more appropriately eye catching red and black because a giant, smelly baying Hound in the middle of Manhattan is not quite eye catching enough. My humans believe that the fact that I have a jazzy new raincoat virtually guarantees that it won’t rain again for eons.

And then this week Elizabeth and I ran into her friend Nancy (a fellow ASPCA volunteer), her little daughter Alicia and her adopted Yorkie, Zorro (poor Zorro is terrified of even normal looking things, so you can imagine how delighted he was to meet a large, loud and nasally interrogative Hound such as myself). This meeting was a happy coincidence as it turned my paltry one and a half hour afternoon walk into a three hour Wimsey park extravaganza. And as if I am not conspicuous enough on my own, when you add a cute child and a little dog the cameras really come out in force. Perhaps my loud baying owing to the fact that the ladies were hogging the soda bottles and Zorro seemed reluctant to be inhaled whole, had something to do with all the attention . Nancy, like Elizabeth, is an experienced dog volunteer, skilled in modifying unwanted canine behavior. Now usually Elizabeth likes to tease Nancy about her difficulty in applying these skills to the management of her child. But somehow with me next to her Elizabeth remained strangely silent on the topic.

Anyway, Elizabeth is sneaking off to Disney World for a couple of days. She says it’s business, but nobody believes her. And she has the temerity to leave me behind. I think I would have a pretty good time chasing Mickey and the scaring children. But there is some talk about bringing me back a pair of mouse ears to wear which I am doing my best to discourage--unless of course the ears are attached to an actual mouse.

Well anyway, I think with those thoughts I must close. We are having unseasonably warm weather here now which my humans were hoping would mitigate my traditional October friskiness, so it is important that I conserve my energies in order to prove them painfully wrong.

Until next time,

Wimsey, a theme park unto myself

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #140

Entry #140

October 16, 2009

Hello Everyone. Wimsey here coming to you from that Hound lover's heaven, New York’s Upper West Side. This week, however, I did expand my geographic range and make myself available to be admired by the denizens of Midtown and the East Side. My adventures in these foreign climes were proof positive that Hound loving knows no municipal boundaries.

But first of course I dragged my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth out for another beautiful four hour Sunday Central Park marathon. I began by furiously towing due north along a path that I seldom get to take owing to the fact that my humans consider it a boring and relatively un-scenic route. Not so to those of us of an olfactory persuasion—great ground smells and little hills upon which to stand and catch the drifting air currents of fine autumnal scents. Nevertheless the route proved anything but boring as we encountered two puppies who were cloned in South Korea from the DNA of their human’s beloved deceased dog.

When people say you find everything and anything in New York City they are not lying! Now I had a good time investigating these puppies whilst my humans once again contemplated the desirable prospect of a Wimsey clone. But although a clone would look like me I have no doubt that it would not possess all my little habits (and certainly not my extreme degree of charm)—like the way I moisturize my nose after each lift of the leg as a preventative measure against further dehydration. Or the way I use my enormous head to pin my human’s mouse hand to the computer desk when they have been sitting there an unacceptable length of time (or pinning a spoon wielding hand when I am desirous of some yoghurt).

But my human’s idealized view of Wimsey clones vanished in visions of a whole show ring full of Wimseys all baying at each other and pacing and galloping their way around the ring in between lively demonstrations of the stack dance. And homes where furniture and laps were extensively draped in Wimseys. And apartments whose walls, ceilings and floors were encrusted with perma-drool. And Wimseys that all want to tow in different directions and none of them the actual way you want to go. Pretty soon my humans were thinking that maybe one Wimsey was enough (and on my livelier days, probably one too many).

But clones weren’t the only exciting thing in the park this Sunday. It is a little known fact that I am an avid bird watcher, particularly with respect to game birds. Of course I would like to do a little more than watch these delicious looking creatures but this has been generally deemed inadvisable. And this Sunday when we were up by the Harlem Meer, not only were there a flock of geese but also a couple of Swans! Here I am watching--the ladies were afraid to let me get any closer lest I be unable to control my unbridled admiration. They were of the opinion that I am an expensive enough beast without incurring the fines that would no doubt be the result of my enthusiastic degree of admiration

Anyway, then to top off the day-- which was even more Wimsey-centric than usual (quite a challenge in and of itself) -- I had a bath on Sunday evening. I rather outdid myself in the climbing on and poking of my humans when it became apparent that watching Hound hair dry is no more interesting than the same activity in regard to paint. Ironically the ladies were trying to watch It’s Me or the Dog. Somehow I don’t think laughing and shrieking “Wimsey stop that” is in Victoria Stillwell’s training repertoire. Wimsey 1, Ladies 0.

Then on Monday afternoon, all sparkly clean (sort of) and minimally Hound scented Elizabeth and I took a walk to meet Maria’s colleagues on the East Side. This necessitated cutting through the Columbus Day Parade which I found alarming until photographers started taking pictures of me instead of the parade. This familiar activity reassured me about the degree to which the people of the East possessed the same excellent taste as the people of the West and made me feel right at home. Perhaps Mayor Bloomberg could be induced to accede to a Wimsey Day parade as part of his re-election campaign. The theme of the parade could be contributions of the Hound to Society which would guarantee brevity. Floats would of course be sponsored by Bose, Tanqueray, Hoffman-La Roche and Home Depot.

Anyway needless to say I was a big hit with Maria’s colleagues—Elizabeth wasn’t able to get many good pictures because I was in a frenzy of wiggling, throwing myself on the ground, leaning and of course, baying. And the colleagues weren’t the only ones who were impressed---people strolling down Park Avenue stopped to gawk, talk and take pictures of me with their camera phones. It’s not every day that you see a large baying Hound where you expect to see lawyers and bankers.

Elizabeth was quite busy wielding the drool rag which I not only found personally annoying but it was also highly ineffective to boot. Everyone knows that the wiping of drool simply stimulates a greater rate of production. However, she was determined not to let me fling drool on all these quite serious looking people in suits who were passing by and admiring me. (Elizabeth herself used to be a quite serious person in a suit also but now is a badly dressed smelly person with a loud Hound. Wonder how that happened?). And then just when things couldn’t get any better, on our way back through the park we met one of my lady friends, Oreo--and I demonstrated the gallant nature of the Hound by promptly stealing her ball. Fortunately for Oreo, the ball became somewhat less alluring when I detected Elizabeth feeding her some of my turkey and my attitude towards sharing underwent a radical revision.

Then on Tuesday I made another of my regular appearances at the vet where everybody knows my name and my human’s credit card number. What I can’t figure out is how a visit ostensibly for gunky eyes turned into a finger up my bum and the expression of my anal glands. Is there some veterinarian’s code of conduct that mandates fingers up the rear? Does no one think they are getting their money’s worth if this area remains un-tampered with?

I exited the establishment with ointment for my eyes and a supposedly delicious banana flavored probiotic cream for my stomach. Well in their anxiety about the potential difficulty of getting ointment into my eyes (which it turns out I permit) the ladies overlooked the much more difficult task of getting the banana flavored cream down my throat. I mean I am not exactly a pit bull but prising open my jaws when I am unwilling to have them prised is not a trivial matter And then there is the problem of what happens if some of the cream does manage to get in. Let’s just say Maria is hoping it’s good for her complexion.

But Wednesday was even more exciting-- I was dropped off at Elizabeth’s in the morning so she could get me ready for my appearance at the American Kennel Club’s Meet the Breeds press conference at the Affinia Hotel near Madison Square Garden. When the pet taxi arrived Elizabeth was dismayed to find that the back seat had been pushed quite far forward so that it was unclear if I would even fit. But in the end I managed, mainly by dint of turning sideways and hanging my head over the driver’s shoulder (fortunately Elizabeth came armed with yet more of those annoying drool rags).

Anyway the press conference took place in a big meeting room and there were cats (in carriers--boo) and several other dogs. Now two of these other dogs—a golden retriever and a border collie—were off leash and part of an agility team demonstrating their obedience skills. They represented the biddable dogs. Then, representing the non-biddable dogs there was yours truly—on my leash dragging Elizabeth around the room so I could get a good whiff of everything and not listening to a thing she said. Elizabeth’s friend Daisy who works for the AKC came over to say hello—she is a fellow Houndist, having a smoking hot girl beagle called Olive who never seems to mind my large cold wet nose up her backside—and Elizabeth apologized for my bad behavior. And Daisy was all—“Bad behavior? What bad behavior?” Gotta love Hound people. (personally I found the behavior of the trained agility dogs extremely bad—attentively listening to their humans, doing tricks on command and with no one even pleading with them or bribing them with food! Why? At least they weren’t Hounds—that would have been truly disgraceful (if of course it were even possible)). And in a commendable show of courage, Daisy even wanted to take me on live TV the next morning, but apparently the TV people demanded a small well behaved dog. Clearly the entertainment value of someone trying to give an interview whilst trying to control a baying charging Hound was completely lost on them.

Anyway, after the press conference I hung out on the street in my official jacket (an XL, the largest they had and quite a squeeze too (does no one out there realize that not all of us are Chihuahuas! This persistent sizism is starting to irk me). There were also these animal characters handing out information about the event. And of course I was baying which attracted crowds of people wondering where the walrus was. The only thing that marred the occasion was some lady who asked Elizabeth why she had me (and just as Elizabeth was about to reply that it was because she was insane ((although to be fair, as Maria is my primary human, the fault is entirely hers)) the lady started screaming at her that I belonged in the country (the country! Who’s going to take pictures of me and fawn on me and feed me sandwiches on my walks in the country?) and that I was a very unhappy and ill treated dog (clearly she does not read this blog). Anyway, Elizabeth did something shocking and unprecedented with her middle finger.

But then, on a nicer note, we headed over to the AKC offices for a little site visit where I entertained the troops and demonstrated my fine voice in exchange for a water bottle (which everyone watched me dismember with rapt attention). Then Elizabeth had the wonderful idea of walking home (about 2 ½ miles) instead of taking the pet taxi and we set off up Fifth Avenue! I marked it the entire way and really enjoyed the stunned looks on passersby in response to my baying on the street corners when the light was against us. All I can say is that if you want to be noticed no need to marry Guy Ritchie, adopt third world children or dance around scantily clad—just take me for a walk in midtown Manhattan. What with all the chatting, picture taking, and admiring we didn’t get back to Elizabeth’s until after 4. What a great day!

Well this has been a long and event filled post so it is time for me bid you adieu and get on with the important business of annoying, impeding and hampering my humans. It’s my version of the charm offensive.

Until next time,

Wimsey, Country Dog Not

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #139

Entry #139

October 9, 2009

Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey coming to you from New York City’s Hound Happy Upper West Side. And much to my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth’s dismay, it is Autumn yet again. For if in Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, in Autumn a giant Hound’s fancy vigorously turns to thoughts of towing, charging and dragging, not to mention juicy nut gathering squirrels, peeable piles of leaves and the fine aroma of Hound stink wafting in the crisp Autumn air. And if in summer I am a tad reluctant to leave Central Park (remember Newton’s First Law: A Hound in Central Park will tend to remain in Central Park unless dragged out by two screaming women) in Autumn the Park becomes my personal roach motel---I want to go in, but I don’t want to come out. Well obviously I do come out (eventually) but the doing of it is tough on my humans although very good for their biceps.

And this weekend we celebrate the explorer Columbus who is one of my personal heroes, putting aside his horrible sense of direction -- trying to get to India and landing in the Bahamas is bad enough, but landing in the Bahamas and thinking you are in India is cause for some alarm. But Columbus pioneered the fine art of inadvertently stumbling upon something, declaring it “discovered” and claiming it as his own. I do this all the time. (The laundry bin being one of my favorite personal discoveries). The only thing is that when guys like Columbus do it they are awarded gold by the Spanish crown. When Hounds do it they are awarded time in their crates by irate their humans. Now everyone remembers 1492 as the year in which Columbus performed his famous feat but few people remember other really important dates in history:

Wimsey’s Book of Important Historical Dates

Dark Ages: Exact year unknown, but French knights, in a misguided belief that they were stealing something of value, removed some large dark smelly Hounds from the citizens of the Levant. Later realizing their mistake (and the fact that these citizen of the Levant made the Hounds suspiciously easy to steal) the knights offered the Hounds as “tribute” to the monks of St. Hubert. Sadly, the knights were never again welcome at the monastery of St. Hubert, but the monks, unwilling to look foolish by admitting their mistake in accepting the Hounds, later offered the Hounds as “tribute” to the King of France in a masterly stroke of regifting. The King of France offered them to several highly placed dukes and thus it was the Hounds became the royal self replicating fruit cake of the Middle Ages.

December 800: French King Charlemagne had the bright idea of uniting Europe under his rule in the hope of being able to export these troublesome Hounds to even more far flung realms. The Pope approved the scheme and crowned Charlemagne King of the Romans with the proviso that Charlemagne refrain from paying “tribute” to the Vatican.

October 1066: Seeking more room for the burgeoning Hound population courtesy of the many royal “gifts” of the French King, Duke William of Normandy invades England and defeats Saxon King Harrold. The English knew they were being invaded by the Normans but historians believe that had they known they were also being invaded by Hounds they might have fought harder.

June 1211: King John signs the Magna Carta under pressure from his Barons. In addition to providing the foundation of the English legal system the document prevents the abuse of royal power in the form of the regifting of Hounds.

1456: Johan Guttenberg invents the means to produce a new Hound snack.

October 12, 1492: Columbus pioneers the application of the seminal Hound principle of “if I see it, it’s mine.”

October 31, 1517: Martin Luther begins the Protestant Reformation. Although Europe was at religious loggerheads for centuries to come both side were united in the belief that Divine Rule of Hound wasn’t so divine.

1687: Hound hero and champion physicist Isaac Newton published his Principia which for the first time laid out mathematically all the ways the force of the Hound could damage the body of the human. Although legend has it that Newton was inspired by an apple falling on his head, it was much more likely that he was inspired by a Hound tugging on his arm.

July 4, 1776: The thirteen colonies, inspired by the independent nature of their Hounds decide to declare independence from Britain. The original Declaration of Independence drafted by the Founding Fathers and directly inspired by the Hounds read “You Are Not the Boss of Me,” until Thomas Jefferson decided the document needed more meat.

July 14, 1789: The French Revolution begins when the King and nobility are too busy hanging out at Versailles playing with their Hounds to realize no one has anything to eat. (Marie Antoinette has been widely misquoted in this regard. When told that her Hounds refused to eat the proffered bread on the grounds that it was boring, she declared, “Let them eat cake. They can have mine.”)

May 18, 1804: Napoleon crowns himself Emperor and takes to heart the Hound motto, “If you have it, I want it,” and realizes only too late that countries are harder to steal than panties.

July 8, 1853: Commodore Perry sails into Tokyo Harbor and demands the Japanese open their doors to American trade. “You give us precious silks and ceramics and we’ll give you these lovely Hounds.” The Japanese took their revenge by exporting karaoke.

November 24, 1859: Charles Darwin publishes the Origin of the Species. People finally understand the theory of natural selection and how it was that Hounds evolved to be so annoying.

March 6, 1876: Alexander Graham Bell utters the immortal words “Come here Watson I need you. That damned Hound peed on the carpet again.” but was cut off.

February 2008: A Scent Hound, Uno the Beagle wins the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.

And speaking of dog show type stuff, this Wednesday I will be at the American Kennel Club press conference at the Affinia Hotel to help promote the AKC’s Meet the Breeds event October 17th and 18th at the Javits convention center. The event is to encourage members of the public who are considering getting a dog to learn about the characteristics of each breed from the people who live with them. Now several years ago I represented the bloodhounds but my humans were prevented from putting up a sign that said: Bloodhounds: Are You Insane!

And after the press conference I will be hitting the streets around Penn Station accompanying an AKC team handing out event leaflets. A minor glitch has arisen in that I am supposed to be wearing an official jacket. For some inexplicable reason they are having trouble finding one large enough for me. Never let it be said that my humans don’t run with the big dogs. (Even if the running is only to avoid getting dragged).

And in another strange turn of events, the poster announcing Meet the Breeds features a prominently displayed bloodhound, who bears a striking resemblance to me (here is a link to it: http://www.cfa-iams-cat-championship.org). The sight of the poster caused Maria to shriek —it’s bad enough that she feels like I am always watching her when she is at home, but now she thinks I am watching her on the street too. I am sure the poster bloodhound is telling her to go to Fairway and buy me a roast chicken.

Anyway, its been a relatively quiet if social week here—lots of dogs and a nice lady on a park bench who gave me part of her lunch—although my arch enemy Cesar Millan did invade Central Park Thursday shooting a segment of his show. Elizabeth and I were going to go over and say hi but she was afraid he would stage an intervention.
And much of this week’s activity has focused not only on the AKC event (especially the assembling of clean drool rags and Hound control devices) but also on my planned appearance Monday outside Maria’s office. Maria’s colleagues have long been hounding her (it is Maria’s destiny to be Hounded) to have me brought over for their viewing pleasure. One of them actually suggested that I be smuggled into the building itself. Apparently she’s never seen a bloodhound. Especially one that can’t fit into an AKC jacket.

Security Guard: Stop! No dogs are allowed in the building.

Elizabeth: It’s not a dog. It’s the new office shredder.

However, I always resent being lumped in with dogs--Hounds are a whole different animal entirely (the dog is Canis familiaris and the Hound is more Canis stop that). A dog will pee on the carpet; a Hound will eat the carpet. You get the idea.

Anyway that’s all for this week. It should be a fun week (for me).

Until next time,

Wimsey, poster child

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #138

Entry #138

October 2, 2009

Hello everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where a bad case of the Autumnal Friskies are under way and leash holding arms are stretched to the max. My human Maria and her friend Elizabeth remember with dread the autumn that I had to wear a gentle leader for the entire season in order for them to stay alive. But now as a more experienced Hound I have learned how to just barely avoid the imposition of the Leader and its equally evil cousin The Halti. Our friend Bentley (The Bay Window,

http://droolydogsblog.blogspot.com) recently mounted a photo expo of the exhibits from his Museum of Failed Hound Control Devices—many of these are devices with which I am all too unpleasantly familiar.

And although I generally wear a prong, rest assured that wearing the prong and listening to the prong are two entirely different things. Personally I consider the prong rather in the light of a decorative necklace that seems to make my humans feel better. I think that they have reluctantly concluded that the best Hound control devices result from trips to the gym-- muscle strength being their bulwark against premature death by Hound. (Hauling 30lb bags of my kibble up the stairs doesn’t hurt either nor does trying to shift a 125lb Hound who is not desirous of being shifted). Doctors do say that exercise can save your life but only humans cohabitating with giant Hounds know this to be literally true. (Letting oneself go has a whole different meaning for my ladies). And of course they listen to the official Wimsey workout song, “Stayin’ Alive.”

But in addition to staying fit as a matter of self preservation, there are many other benefits that accrue by dint of having a Hound around. Mostly of course people want to do nice things for me, but occasionally people also want to do nice things for my humans. This Sunday, for instance, as I was baying up a storm, a lady with excellent taste from the Malin+Goetz shop came out to admire me. She ended up giving Elizabeth lot of free samples of luxury shampoo and facial cream on account of my being so cute. I am always much admired by the Malin+Goetz people (I am on their web site along with other prominent neighborhood dogs) but my humans consistently refuse to allow me to enter the shop due to its pristine décor relying heavily as it does on the color white. Nevertheless, I have extensively sniffed the Malin+Goetz product line in Elizabeth’s bathroom and can vouch for its appeal. And although I am not in the market for shampoos, luxury or otherwise, and certainly not for facial creams which might make my wrinkles less prominent, I do enjoy playing with their products.

I must say though I am quite delighted by Elizabeth’s bathroom—it is far more accessible than the one in Maria’s apartment and its layout enables me to exercise the full scope of my bathroom monitor duties. In addition to sniffing all of the shampoos, soaps and creams, etc.--usually in order to gauge their alimentary appeal, I also keep close tabs on Elizabeth’s bath and shower activities; I get fed turkey during my bath time and am always hopeful that Elizabeth might also be enjoying a shareable snack in the midst of her ablutions. And of course I demand to be scratched while all other bathroom activities are in progress.

Also this week, in addition to getting free beauty product samples (although I still maintain that fresh air and drool are the best recipes for healthy and glowing skin), the folks at Nikon invited Elizabeth to a cocktail event at a midtown lounge. This is because she is a member of the Nikon Cool Pix Circle and uses a Nikon S630 point and shoot camera to get pictures of me for my blog. So in addition to meeting the photographer for the new animal rescue TV show Rescue Ink, Elizabeth was able to engage Nikon staff in such essential topics as how to remove bribing turkey and drool smudges from the LCD screen and whether image stabilization could be augmented to include Wimsey stabilization (patience and standing still not being one of my conspicuous strengths). For instance, here I am meeting a new friend, Jada a lovely brindle Great Dane. And as always I try to impress the ladies with a vigorous display of the zoomies, the meet and greet and of course, the romantic serenade. All of which is not easy to capture on camera.

Anyway, Elizabeth saw lots of cool cameras that she would love to own if she didn’t need something small enough to fit into that dog pouch that seems to be surgically attached to her waist. But since the whole point of the Nikon camera is taking pictures of me, I thought I should have been invited.

Of course I could have predicted that Elizabeth would like the cameras she saw but then again I am good at predicting most things that have to do with my humans. I think I should set up one of these stands:

Wimsey Fortune Teller

Wimsey: Pick a few of my tarot cards and I will tell your future.

Client: I didn’t know Hounds could tell fortunes.

Wimsey: I know. It’s a new service. Usually we just cost fortunes.

Client: OK, here’s the first card.

Wimsey: Ah, The Fat Beagle. The Fat Beagle is an excellent card for those wishing to lose weight. It indicates that you will have much less high calorie food available for ingestion than you thought—often the only thing left will be lettuce and a grapefruit. But the Fat Beagle card also signifies sudden loss of property. (I hope you like changing the channels on the TV manually). And those gloves that you thought were in your pocket are probably not there now.

Client: You’re right! They’re gone.

Wimsey: They were delicious.

Client: OK, here’s a good looking card, the Baying Bloodhound.

Wimsey: An excellent card. You will soon meet a tall, dark and handsome stranger from whom you will be inseparable. He will be very possessive and rule your life but when you are with him you will be very popular and very famous so you will adore him even if he doesn’t adore you.

Client: Well that doesn’t sound good.

Wimsey: On the contrary, the Baying Bloodhound always sounds good, although you will eventually be forced to purchase a pair of Bose Noise Canceling Headphones to preserve you hearing.

Client: Well what is this next card? It doesn’t have a figure on it.

Wimsey: No you have drawn the Ten of Kibbles. The Ten of Kibbles means you will meet many strangers from exotic and primitive lands where they don’t have subways or Grom gelato and the natives have objectionable names like Big Pussy. Although I imagine a big one might be more fun to chase than a little one.

Client: You mean I’m going to meet people from New Jersey!

Wimsey: Yes, but these people will be very generous and give you such things as used water bottles and leftover sandwiches.

Client: That doesn’t sound like something I would want.

Wimsey: No, but the tall, dark, handsome stranger will. And he’s the only one that counts. Anyway the next card you chose is the Galloping Greyhound. This is one of those plus minus cards. On one hand you will probably be taking a voyage to the emergency room. But the good news is that orthopedists and physical therapists will give you big discounts because you will be such a good customer.

Client: These cards don’t look very good. How about this one.

Wimsey: That’s the five of sticks. That means you will soon in inherit a fortune in vet bills.

Client: And this one?

Wimsey: Ah, that’s the Three of Stuffed Squeaky Toys. That one means that you will have many outdoor friends but few who are willing to visit you in your actual abode.

Client: Why is that?

Wimsey: Because your home will acquire a mysterious odor that no amount of air freshener will dissipate. Unsightly stains will appear, as if by magic, on your walls, furniture and in the hair of any guests brave enough to enter your residence. Also guests are liable to get shoved off the furniture.

Client: How about this one, he looks nice.

Wimsey: He is. This is the Dancing Deerhound. He indicates that you will go on a long and exciting voyage—but only in your imagination. It’s the only kind of trip you’ll be permitted on account of the Baying Bloodhound card.

Client: I really don’t like these tarot cards!

Wimsey: Few people do. But try one more card.

Client: It’s The Fool!

Wimsey: Yes, I know.

Well getting back to this Sunday’s marathon Central Park walk, you can see that the weather was rather wet (fortunately not wet enough to require the application of my raincoat for which I was exceedingly grateful. Yellow vinyl is not a good Hound color). But the wettish conditions meant that we could walk through places like the Children’s Zoo and visit the closed Wolman Rink without being crowded by the locals. Tourists, however, are made of sterner stuff-particularly all these folks from the UK who thought that the weather looked pretty nice. And they were all very interested in my humans’ attempts to photograph me.

But the real highlight of the week (and perhaps my life—and this includes the many times I’ve humiliated Elizabeth in the show ring) occurred as we were passing the 20th precinct. As many of you who read this blog know, I LOVE police officers. Even if they are in plain clothes and in unmarked cars, I can identify them and will bay vociferously until they come and pet me (kind of puts a bit of a crimp in their covers). Anyway, I was creating my usual racket in front of the 20th precinct when who should pop out to see what all the ruckus was about, but The Commanding Officer himself! And not only that, he invited me in for a tour! Well sadly there are very few pictures because I was in such a high state of wiggle (and Elizabeth was too intent on hanging on to me to remember that her Nikon camera actually has a “sports” setting for capturing athletes in motion—such as me in the squad room of a police station) and mostly what was captured on the camera was a blur of me in extreme wiggle—my humans had never seen such a degree of prolonged back end displacement-- and the commanding officer trying to get me to pose (or perhaps trying not to get drooled on---he was pretty sharply dressed). But this shot should give you some idea.

And then this Saturday as I was strolling on Riverside Drive I noticed a police car and so towed Maria over to say hello. And the officer looked down at me and exclaimed “Hey is this the dog that was visiting the station on Sunday!?” Indeed I was. (my next ambition is to actually ride in a squad car).

But all was not unsuccessful photo-wise. My humans finally got a shot of me taking a load off my feet on a park bench.

Anyway that’s about it for this week. Elizabeth’s new Fall LL bean Hounding coat has arrived and I am busy creating appropriate decorations and aromatherapy for it, so it should be a fun week.

Until next time,

Wimsey, Tough New York City Police Dog