March 30, 2007
Hello everyone. Wimsey here. Well my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth are pretty impressed these days with my knowledge of Newton’s Laws (see entry # 9) and it’s been all “Oh, I see, so it’s really Newton and not actually Wimsey who is responsible for dislocating my shoulder. I feel a lot better about that” and ‘Gee, now we can calculate with mathematical precision the exact degree of pain that Wimsey is going to inflict on us. How useful.”
Anyway, all this knowledge has got me thinking (it is a scurrilous lie that bloodhounds don’t think) that there are probably plenty of other subjects where humans could benefit from their applications to the Hound. For instance, think of all the people from all over the world who want to learn English (Personally, I find baying to be a far more expressive means of communication, but I will be the first to admit that it is incredibly difficult to master. Clearly humans are interested in trying to learn, however, because so many of them attempt to bay back at me. I humor them, but frankly they have terrible accents).
But getting back to English, I mean really what is the point of learning to ask where the library is or which way to the bathroom or what time is it when there are so many more important subjects:
English Student: Your Hound is very handsome.
Professor: Thank you. Yes he is very beautiful.
English Student: May I pet your beautiful Hound.
Professor: Yes you may pet my magnificent Hound.
English Student: May I feed your gorgeous Hound a juicy hot dog?
Professor: I am sure my wonderful Hound would like a juicy hot dog.
English Student: Would your amazing Hound enjoy a large rawhide?
Professor: My gracious Hound would be happy to accept a large rawhide.
English Student: Would your splendid Hound also accept this ice cream cone?
Professor: Yes my resplendent Hound would like to eat the ice cream cone.
English Student: And would your angelic Hound also like this fluffy stuffed toy shaped like a duck that quacks when squeezed?
Professor: Yes, my delightful Hound is willing to accept that too.
English Student: And may I present your charming Hound with this bag of squirrels?
Professor: Yes. I am sure that my swift and graceful Hound will be able to catch all of them.
English Student: It is very kind of your knowledgeable Hound to help a foreigner learn English.
Professor: Yes, he is a terrific Hound: He is completely obedient and unselfish. He never paces, or sticks his nose in your food or steals your underpants or hides your brassieres or blocks the computer screen or slimes your glasses or burps in your face or fights you for the contents of the toilet or shoves you off of the couch or drags you through the park. Also, he is very intelligent.
English Student: Why is he making that very loud noise?
Professor: He wants your water bottle.
English Student: What a melodious sound. And what is the name of the refreshing fluid that he has flung in my face?
Professor: That is called drool. But there are many other important synonyms such as spit, spittle, slime, saliva and slobber. Let us now review the parts of the Hound…
And so forth. Anyway, all this has given me the idea of creating The Wimsey Institute of Houndly Studies—an Institute of higher learning possessing a broad curricular mandate:
English Literature: Comedies of (the Lack of) Manners and the Hound
The list of potential classes just goes on and on. The Wimsey Institute would focus on bringing a refreshing Hound Centric interpretation to scholarly topics far too long dominated by the narrow Homo Sapienonic point of view. I think I would quite enjoy being Professor Wimsey. After all, I already teach my humans so much.--like the locations of the nearest emergency rooms and which makeup covers bruises best.
But although I am busy contemplating my illustrious career in academia, I am still never too busy to enjoy the pleasures of early spring here in New York City. Yesterday I peed on the first crocus of the season and soon I will be snorting through the cherry blossoms that bloom so spectacularly in Central Park.
And Spring will once again bring a new crop of dense (and inaccessible) foliage for me to poop into. Now, I don’t mean to brag, but I Wimsey, have created a fascinating competitive sport out of these ordinary eliminatory activities so near and dear to the canine heart. (and intestines). Since here in New York City humans must clean up after their dogs, I decided to turn this otherwise mundane activity into a challenging new game of wits and agility-- much to the delight of my humans.
Basically the game goes like this: I discover places to poop where cleanup ranges from annoying (1 point) to totally impossible (10 points). It is my job to discover these places and it is my humans’ job to prevent me from using them. The game requires speed, attention to detail, quick thinking and a willingness to think outside of the box (or shrub). For instance, one of my most innovative 10 pointers is to poop atop a stack of cut branches thoughtfully left out by the Park Rangers. If I position myself correctly on the pile, the poop falls through the branches in such a way as to require the Army Corps of Engineers to get it out. And because Maria and Elizabeth are incredibly conscientious about scooping, watching them try to figure out new methods of retrieval is like watching the planning of the Normandy Invasion. So entertaining! Of course, since my humans understand the principles of the game, the use subterfuge to cloak my intentions is of the utmost importance. So it’s-- La la la it’s me Wimsey just walking, walking walking—quick, quick-- run up a steep hill that is covered in dense ivy, execute a quick pre-poop spin and voila—quick as can be another 10 pointer! And of course next time we pass that ivy patch it will be all shrieks of “ Hurry, stop him-- Wimsey’s heading for the ivy!” So unless my humans have a momentary lapse in concentration (which happens more often than you would think, given the alleged size of their brains) I must continuously uncover and devise new and ingenious locations and strategies. Fortunately, Central Park’s brilliant landscape designers, Calvin Vaux and Frederick Law Olmstead, were thoughtful enough to create an astonishing variety of vegetation and terrain-- so it is always game on! I am thinking of proposing this as an exhibition sport for the next Olympics.
Well, no one ever claimed that life with a Hound would be easy— just not boring. Anyway, time to get measured for my academic robes (I think black and tan would look rather nice).
Until next time,