Entry # 7
March 9, 2007
Hello everyone. It’s me, Wimsey. Well, I am here to tell you that sometimes it is just so much fun being me that it should be illegal! I don’t know—can they outlaw me like they do some of the other breeds?
“Your Honor we move to prohibit The Bloodhound in the County of New York—he is just having way too much fun and, as a consequence, causing a public nuisance and a breach of the peace. The endlessly fun seeking, attention getting and single mindedly disruptive Bloodhound does, we respectfully submit, contribute to the erosion of the tax base of our heretofore fiscally sound Metropolis. We declare that The Bloodhound willfully impairs, impedes and hampers all manner of economic activity. Previously upright and tax paying citizens cease to engage in income (and therefore tax) producing activities whilst they ogle, fondle and generally expend precious tax generating time upon the non-tax generating Bloodhound. Your Honor, it is of the utmost concern to us that The Bloodhound has even managed to strike at the very heart of this City’s fiscal foundation, to wit, Wall Street. We are grieved and alarmed to report that the enormous tax revenue—to which we all looked so forward every year-- from a formerly respected Wall Street stock analyst has completely vanished in the face of the competing charms of clickering the aforementioned Bloodhound. We cannot, in good conscience, permit the integrity of the financial markets (and our tax base) to be undermined by the pernicious influence of The Bloodhound. We therefore move for his entire banishment, body, drool and all from the precincts of our normally industrious and tax producing polis. We find that the temptation to fiscally unsound fun is simply far too great to permit of his continued existence amongst us.”
Hmm..breed specific legislation (isn’t being a breedist politically incorrect?)—all the more reason for me to seriously consider a run for Bloodhound in Chief! (Bizzy would make a charming First Bloodhound, don’t you think)?
Anyway, it is only due to my famously good temperament that I am in such a good mood. This week it was my human Maria who was sick. Can humans really be this susceptible to microbial invasion or is this yet another misguided attempt to modify my behavior? I mean this week it was all ‘Oh Wimsey, stop bouncing up and down on my stomach like that it makes me throw up” and such. Of course the risk of a human throwing up is absolutely no deterrent to me-- human effluvia of all sorts is deliciously fragrant and often quite tasty. But putting my sensuous nature aside, being a bloodhound is just plain fun. When I go out for a walk there are such squeals of “How beautiful!” and “How cute!" and “How adorable!” And of course Maria and Elizabeth (a friend of hers, whose current canine activities are apparently an enduring source of disappointment to the city’s tax authorities) know that there is not the remotest possibility that these comments are directed at them. Last year, even Joan Rivers-- that queen of red carpet critique-- stopped traffic on Park Avenue pointed in my direction and loudly proclaimed: “Fabulous! Fabulous! Fabulous!” Unless I am very much mistaken, I don’t think it was Elizabeth’s baggy, drool covered ensemble that attracted her admiration. And this week an obviously astute upper west side young man eyeballed me, gestured grandly to his friends and declared resoundingly and repeatedly “Now that is Fashion! (So I guess I can relax about black and tan going out of style any time soon). And of course it was also quite a lot of fun last weekend when Maria nipped into Starbucks to get us all some coffee and emerged to find Elizabeth and I surrounded by fascinated men. And trust me; it wasn’t Elizabeth who was fascinating them. I am worried that my humans are going to develop a complex:
Dr. Wimsey: So tell me, Maria, when did you start to have these feelings that people were ignoring you?
Maria: When I got you.
Dr. Wimsey: Well, yes, I can see how that could happen. I am really so much more exciting and interesting than you are. You are very perceptive. Ah, I see our 45 minute hour is up. You can leave my $200 fee with my receptionist, Elizabeth --she used to be a famous stock analyst you know, such a sad case!
Anyway, when we walk down the street no one yells out Maria or Elizabeth, only Wimsey. No wonder humans are all in therapy (except sad to say, mine, who I believe would benefit enormously by working through the fact that they will always exist in my large, hound shaped shadow).
In addition to spending lots of time in therapy, humans here in New York City are famous for spending the GDP of entire nations on gym memberships, Pilates and yoga classes, diet books, exercise equipment, etc. But really, what they actually need is a bloodhound. Now in addition to getting a lot of public flak about the existence of my testicles poor Maria is often assailed by people questioning my suitability for life in New York (really of course, they should question her sanity, but that is a whole other issue). Little do these interlocutors realize that they are addressing The Wimsey Total Mind-Body Fitness System. Kind of like a canine Bowflex, I do it all.
The Wimsey Way to Total Mind-Body Fitness rests on three sound principles: physical health, diet and hygiene and mental health. All backed up by an astonishingly simple, yet effective set of incentives.
First, the Wimsey System builds endurance: my humans quickly learn that if they have any hope of their possessions remaining intact, they will walk me for as many hours as they can stand up (I, of course, being a well bred bloodhound, can walk indefinitely). And the beauty of it is that the effects of the walks are never cumulative — each day is a new day-- the Wimsey odometer resets to zero each morning and the walking must begin all over again. But these walks do not just breed endurance. No, they are also aerobic since at random intervals I take off after some attractive odor and the only way to stay upright is to run along with me! Never underestimate the fear of humiliation of being dragged behind a conspicuously baying bloodhound!
Next, let us discuss the upper body, particularly core strength. In addition to my prowess at marching and charging, I also posses a powerful tow. Again, in order to maintain an upright posture, leash holders must engage the abdominals inwards and upwards whilst mobilizing the arms and entire upper torso. For really, really long periods of time. It’s six pack abs the Wimsey Way. It is such a shame that gyms simply cannot provide the appropriate physical penalties for failure to perform. I guess they feel that threatening to hurt their clients and shred their possessions would not be revenue enhancing—also possibly illegal--, but let me tell you, it is highly motivating.
Now let us proceed to the frequently neglected issue of hygiene. I have previously discussed how I effortlessly trained the slobby Elizabeth to be neat, but few people know me in my equally important guise as the Bath Inspector. As a committed trainer I personally, supervise the ablutions of the humans I have caused to be drenched in sweat. Using my keen nose I instantly detect any unwashed spots and alert the human to their presence by licking them. In addition, I conduct spot quality control checks throughout the bath process to make sure the human is (or was) completely clean. I also test the water with my muzzle at regular intervals and dispense some moisturizing drool into it. And after the bath, one should not even think about getting away with wearing a used t-shirt or second day underwear. My nose instantly attaches to the delicious odor emanating thereof, conspicuously calling attention to the offending garment—shame can be such a powerful weapon in modifying human behavior! And much faster than a clicker. And diet is even easier to modify than hygiene. Food becomes remarkably unappetizing to humans when mixed with bloodhound secretions.
Finally, we must discuss the mental health portion of my program. Let me just say, that The Wimsey System admits of no negativity. The other day, Elizabeth was sitting on the couch upbraiding me for some perceived (and no doubt wholly imaginary) failure so I calmly stuck my tongue in her mouth. At this she instantly ceased speaking, no doubt reminded of the potentially pernicious (if not to say infective) nature of vocalizing negative thoughts.
And of course throughout the entire day, I keep my humans well hydrated. By dint of sticking my entire muzzle and ears into my water bowl I find I can transport quite a quantity of water to deposit on my humans. My thoughtful actions keep them cool and moist throughout the day. An excellent use of the many facial folds and wrinkles for which we bloodhounds are justifiably famous.
Anyway, I am looking into promoting The Wimsey Total Mind-Body Fitness System on the Home Shopping Network. Elizabeth says I need the taxable income.
Until next time,
Wimsey
March 9, 2007
Hello everyone. It’s me, Wimsey. Well, I am here to tell you that sometimes it is just so much fun being me that it should be illegal! I don’t know—can they outlaw me like they do some of the other breeds?
“Your Honor we move to prohibit The Bloodhound in the County of New York—he is just having way too much fun and, as a consequence, causing a public nuisance and a breach of the peace. The endlessly fun seeking, attention getting and single mindedly disruptive Bloodhound does, we respectfully submit, contribute to the erosion of the tax base of our heretofore fiscally sound Metropolis. We declare that The Bloodhound willfully impairs, impedes and hampers all manner of economic activity. Previously upright and tax paying citizens cease to engage in income (and therefore tax) producing activities whilst they ogle, fondle and generally expend precious tax generating time upon the non-tax generating Bloodhound. Your Honor, it is of the utmost concern to us that The Bloodhound has even managed to strike at the very heart of this City’s fiscal foundation, to wit, Wall Street. We are grieved and alarmed to report that the enormous tax revenue—to which we all looked so forward every year-- from a formerly respected Wall Street stock analyst has completely vanished in the face of the competing charms of clickering the aforementioned Bloodhound. We cannot, in good conscience, permit the integrity of the financial markets (and our tax base) to be undermined by the pernicious influence of The Bloodhound. We therefore move for his entire banishment, body, drool and all from the precincts of our normally industrious and tax producing polis. We find that the temptation to fiscally unsound fun is simply far too great to permit of his continued existence amongst us.”
Hmm..breed specific legislation (isn’t being a breedist politically incorrect?)—all the more reason for me to seriously consider a run for Bloodhound in Chief! (Bizzy would make a charming First Bloodhound, don’t you think)?
Anyway, it is only due to my famously good temperament that I am in such a good mood. This week it was my human Maria who was sick. Can humans really be this susceptible to microbial invasion or is this yet another misguided attempt to modify my behavior? I mean this week it was all ‘Oh Wimsey, stop bouncing up and down on my stomach like that it makes me throw up” and such. Of course the risk of a human throwing up is absolutely no deterrent to me-- human effluvia of all sorts is deliciously fragrant and often quite tasty. But putting my sensuous nature aside, being a bloodhound is just plain fun. When I go out for a walk there are such squeals of “How beautiful!” and “How cute!" and “How adorable!” And of course Maria and Elizabeth (a friend of hers, whose current canine activities are apparently an enduring source of disappointment to the city’s tax authorities) know that there is not the remotest possibility that these comments are directed at them. Last year, even Joan Rivers-- that queen of red carpet critique-- stopped traffic on Park Avenue pointed in my direction and loudly proclaimed: “Fabulous! Fabulous! Fabulous!” Unless I am very much mistaken, I don’t think it was Elizabeth’s baggy, drool covered ensemble that attracted her admiration. And this week an obviously astute upper west side young man eyeballed me, gestured grandly to his friends and declared resoundingly and repeatedly “Now that is Fashion! (So I guess I can relax about black and tan going out of style any time soon). And of course it was also quite a lot of fun last weekend when Maria nipped into Starbucks to get us all some coffee and emerged to find Elizabeth and I surrounded by fascinated men. And trust me; it wasn’t Elizabeth who was fascinating them. I am worried that my humans are going to develop a complex:
Dr. Wimsey: So tell me, Maria, when did you start to have these feelings that people were ignoring you?
Maria: When I got you.
Dr. Wimsey: Well, yes, I can see how that could happen. I am really so much more exciting and interesting than you are. You are very perceptive. Ah, I see our 45 minute hour is up. You can leave my $200 fee with my receptionist, Elizabeth --she used to be a famous stock analyst you know, such a sad case!
Anyway, when we walk down the street no one yells out Maria or Elizabeth, only Wimsey. No wonder humans are all in therapy (except sad to say, mine, who I believe would benefit enormously by working through the fact that they will always exist in my large, hound shaped shadow).
In addition to spending lots of time in therapy, humans here in New York City are famous for spending the GDP of entire nations on gym memberships, Pilates and yoga classes, diet books, exercise equipment, etc. But really, what they actually need is a bloodhound. Now in addition to getting a lot of public flak about the existence of my testicles poor Maria is often assailed by people questioning my suitability for life in New York (really of course, they should question her sanity, but that is a whole other issue). Little do these interlocutors realize that they are addressing The Wimsey Total Mind-Body Fitness System. Kind of like a canine Bowflex, I do it all.
The Wimsey Way to Total Mind-Body Fitness rests on three sound principles: physical health, diet and hygiene and mental health. All backed up by an astonishingly simple, yet effective set of incentives.
First, the Wimsey System builds endurance: my humans quickly learn that if they have any hope of their possessions remaining intact, they will walk me for as many hours as they can stand up (I, of course, being a well bred bloodhound, can walk indefinitely). And the beauty of it is that the effects of the walks are never cumulative — each day is a new day-- the Wimsey odometer resets to zero each morning and the walking must begin all over again. But these walks do not just breed endurance. No, they are also aerobic since at random intervals I take off after some attractive odor and the only way to stay upright is to run along with me! Never underestimate the fear of humiliation of being dragged behind a conspicuously baying bloodhound!
Next, let us discuss the upper body, particularly core strength. In addition to my prowess at marching and charging, I also posses a powerful tow. Again, in order to maintain an upright posture, leash holders must engage the abdominals inwards and upwards whilst mobilizing the arms and entire upper torso. For really, really long periods of time. It’s six pack abs the Wimsey Way. It is such a shame that gyms simply cannot provide the appropriate physical penalties for failure to perform. I guess they feel that threatening to hurt their clients and shred their possessions would not be revenue enhancing—also possibly illegal--, but let me tell you, it is highly motivating.
Now let us proceed to the frequently neglected issue of hygiene. I have previously discussed how I effortlessly trained the slobby Elizabeth to be neat, but few people know me in my equally important guise as the Bath Inspector. As a committed trainer I personally, supervise the ablutions of the humans I have caused to be drenched in sweat. Using my keen nose I instantly detect any unwashed spots and alert the human to their presence by licking them. In addition, I conduct spot quality control checks throughout the bath process to make sure the human is (or was) completely clean. I also test the water with my muzzle at regular intervals and dispense some moisturizing drool into it. And after the bath, one should not even think about getting away with wearing a used t-shirt or second day underwear. My nose instantly attaches to the delicious odor emanating thereof, conspicuously calling attention to the offending garment—shame can be such a powerful weapon in modifying human behavior! And much faster than a clicker. And diet is even easier to modify than hygiene. Food becomes remarkably unappetizing to humans when mixed with bloodhound secretions.
Finally, we must discuss the mental health portion of my program. Let me just say, that The Wimsey System admits of no negativity. The other day, Elizabeth was sitting on the couch upbraiding me for some perceived (and no doubt wholly imaginary) failure so I calmly stuck my tongue in her mouth. At this she instantly ceased speaking, no doubt reminded of the potentially pernicious (if not to say infective) nature of vocalizing negative thoughts.
And of course throughout the entire day, I keep my humans well hydrated. By dint of sticking my entire muzzle and ears into my water bowl I find I can transport quite a quantity of water to deposit on my humans. My thoughtful actions keep them cool and moist throughout the day. An excellent use of the many facial folds and wrinkles for which we bloodhounds are justifiably famous.
Anyway, I am looking into promoting The Wimsey Total Mind-Body Fitness System on the Home Shopping Network. Elizabeth says I need the taxable income.
Until next time,
Wimsey
8 comments:
Wow, Wimsey, sounds to me like your human would be lost without you! Who needs a healthy ego anyway when they have a handsome dog to prance around with? Make sure you take good care of her, though while she's sick. These humans are just so very fragile...
I too frequently hydrate my humans, and not only do I monitor all bathing situations, but I also feel it is necessary to keep a weather-eye on them while they are using the toilet.
I offer to clean them afterwards, but so far no one has taken me up on it.
Oh I hydrate my humans also. Mom is always trying to get me not to but I see her dry skin and know she needs water. They say a sign of dehydration in dry skin. Don't they understand we are just trying to help
Wimsey, I must admit, I suffer from the same neglect as your Maria and Elizabeth. Sophie always gets far more attention than me. Even here, in the online world, I must succumb to communicating under her guise. Oh, the mistakes we make when we begin to blog. Soon the line between human and beast will be completely erased. The least I can hope for is that I will be as attractive as my beast with hair all over my face.
Ah what a great idea, Wimsey! I think you will be able to sell that system quicker than the 8 minute abs! And my you do write rather affluently for a dog of any sort - do I detect a hint of English in your work? You remind me a little of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Texas's Dad.
And from Texas: Sounds good! Pull the hoomans around - wet their faces... and what was the other stuff? I am still learning... Licks xx!
Wimsey,
I just wanted to say thank you for donating to my great cause. It meant alot to me that someone I didn't know would do something as awesome as that. You're terrierific!
Wirey hugs,
Ozzy
I have a modest proposal at increasing the tax base, given Wimsey's enormous influence on the aforementioned. Have a "Win a Date with Wimsey" contest and charge lots of money to enter. I for one, am longing for a tete a tete with the slobbering one.
Wimsey - you are one of My Favorite Things - as immortalized in my recent rewrite of that Sound of Music classic!
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