Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry # 21
June 22, 2007

Hello Everyone. It’s me Wimsey. Before I forget, here is the link to an article the New York Times did on running dogs for exercise and on Running Paws, the service that runs me every day (www.runningpaws.com) There are a couple of pictures of Yours Truly and my energetic running partner Louie the Weimaraner. And of course, we are accompanied by our much admired (and courageous) runner Roy (ex-Army or not, if Louie and I decided to sit on him, he’s toast!)

They Take the Bounce Out of Bowser

It may be hard to spot, but if you look closely you will see that whilst everybody else in the photos is looking straight ahead, I have my attention focused with laser-like precision exactly where it belongs: on the camera. It’s all down to my extensive media training-- I am nothing if not The Complete Media Hound. I am the Princess Diana of Hounds—the camera loves me and the feeling is mutual.

As can be expected, my human Maria and Elizabeth (a friend of hers) were pretty excited by the sight of my handsome hound face in their local daily, but they suspect (quite rightly) that the extra attention is not conducive to helping me maintain my usual modest demeanor. (“Oh no! Now Wimsey’s pointy head will grow even bigger!”) And of course it has given Elizabeth ideas about using a camera to bait me in the show ring instead of boiled liver, since it seems to be the only way to get me to focus. But one of the best things about me being such a splendid looking creature is that I so totally eclipse my humans. Now Maria and Elizabeth look absolutely nothing alike but as female humans holding my leash, they are completely interchangeable! In my presence, people seldom realize that they are actually two different people and there are always these amusing daily conferences about the mistaken identity issue. Maria always enjoys it when strangers come up to her to continue conversations that they had with Elizabeth the previous day. It’s kind of like living in an ongoing Shakespearean play:

The Scene: Twilight, Central Park

Enter: The Lady Maria, Wimsey, The Bloodhound

Lady Maria: Hark Wimsey, we are being hailed.

Enter the Young Lord Balto, Marcello his friend, and retinue

Lord Balto: Well met, fair Lady. Forsooth that is a beautiful Hound thou hast.

Lady Maria: Why yes my Lord, and methinks the Hound would agree’st with thee.

Lord Balto: I wouldst give thee a hundred ducats for yon wondrous Hound.

Lady Maria: Alas, kind Lord, the Hound is a pearl without price. I have raised him since he twas a mere pup (aside: though a giant one at that!) and wouldst not part with him for all the ducats in Padua. (aside: foolish Lord. Methinks he cans’t have no idea what mayhem may ensue when’st the Hound is about his quotidian business.)

Marcello: Come my Lord, we must not tarry. The revelries of the Castle of Belvedere await!

Lord Balto: Farewell dear Lady. I hope to admire thy Hound again anon.

Marcello: Dids’t thou not think the Lady fair, m’lord?

Lord Balto: Aye, but in the presence of the Hound, the eye cannot but seek the fairer of the two.

Exit

The next morning, Central Park

Enter: The Lady Elizabeth, Wimsey the Bloodhound

Lady Elizabeth: Methinks the day dawns fair, my good Hound. What sayest thou?

Wimsey the Bloodhound: Bays joyously

Enter: The Young Lord Balto, Marcello, his friend, and retinue

Lord Balto: Such a wondrous noise! Hail Fair Lady. We meet again!
(aside: Marry, I must have that Hound!)

Lady Elizabeth: I think not, my Lord. Mine eyes beholdst thy form this hour for the first time

Lord Balto: Come, come, good lady, let us not be coy! Twas only yesterday that you refused mine offer of 100 ducats for thine magnificent Hound.

Lady Elizabeth: (aside) What madman is this I say?

Lord Balto: Well I have meditated much on mine offer, a most generous one I think. Now, brace thyself good lady for to obtain this magnificent Hound I offer my hand in marriage to his most fortunate mistress.

Lady Elizabeth: You mistake me good lord! Mayhap twas the Lady Maria to whom your affections incline.

Lord Balto: T’is all the same, fair Lady. My affections incline towards yon stunning Hound. It is the East and that Hound is the sun. Who canst discern the moon when such fair company presents. What matter it Elizabeth or Maria or Aphrodite herself or yet some other name when one’s eye canst feast on such houndly splendour! Whatever thou chooses to call thyself today, take my hand, my fortune, my castle and give me that leash.

THE END

Post Script: Both ladies moved into the castle; Lord Balto still has not discerned that the one are two. Only his Hound knows.


So you can see all the fun we three have together! Maria always wanted an identical twin—she just expected that an identical appearance was an inviolable requirement. Anyway, I think I would have made an excellent Shakespearean actor: Two Hounds of Verona, The Merry Hounds of Windsor, Hound for Hound, The Comedy of Hounds, Much Ado about a Hound, Hound Lovers Labor Lost, A Midsummer Night’s Hound, The Hound of Venice, As the Hound Likes It, the Taming of the Hound, All’s Well that Ends Well for the Hound, Twelfth Night of Hounds, A Hound’s Tale, etc. Perhaps I should propose myself to the organizers of Shakespeare in the Park!

Well, anyway, apart from being photographed during my daily run by paparazzi from the New York Times, it has been another beautiful summer (or more accurately pre-summer) week here in New York City---I get particularly vocal in honor of the solstice; I believe this has something to do with my ancestor’s great love of Stonehenge—so much vertical square footage upon which to pee, I can’t believe it wasn’t conceived by a Hound. But the beautiful weather has been wasted on my Elizabeth who is holed up with some super secret project that she is convinced will keep me in a wardrobe of cooling coats and premium gelato for life. However, it means that she absolutely refuses to have me over during the day for a visit. Now in spite of the fact that she was actually trained as a scientist, she has come to believe that I embody the discredited theory of spontaneous generation. Not only do I spontaneously generate dirt (“How did Wimsey’s paw print get on the ceiling?”) but also kibble-- which tends to show up in places that kibble has no right to be (“Wimsey how did this kibble get into my underpants?”). But of course, my most masterful feat of spontaneous generation has to be in the area of poop.

Maria: “Wimsey hasn’t touched his kibble for two days, how did he manage to produce two pounds of poop.”
Elizabeth: “Spontaneous generation. It’s the only explanation.”

Needless to say, my pooping prowess is the stuff of legend. Other people go on Easter Egg Hunts or Treasure Hunts, but Maria and Elizabeth go on Poop Hunts:

Maria: “Where is the poop? I saw him do it, but it has mysteriously vanished into the dense under brush of Central Park.”
Elizabeth: “Perhaps my compass would help? I think we should travel NNW”
Maria: “I wonder if Wimsey could leave us a parchment map like the ones the pirates used?”

But all this talk of poop reminds me that on account of it my Diary has been apparently rated “R”. by mingle2.com. Maria discovered this blog rating service and my discussion of poop and also my use of the word sex once or twice has triggered an R rating. The fact that I routinely mention and discuss (lovingly) my testicles seems to have escaped their notice.

Anyway, tonight is another exciting installment of Wimsey Bath Night. Last time I managed to knock Maria’s congratulatory post-bath cocktail out of her hand, so let’s see what I can manage this time! I haven’t been shown in a month (I w

ill be showing on Staten Island on Sunday) so I imagine I will make an extra large mess of Elizabeth’s bathroom and will also be doling out some extra special show ring high jinx.

Maybe I should alert the New York Times.

Until next time, I remain

Yon Fair Hounde Wimsey