February 23, 2007
Entry # 5
Hello Everyone. It is me, Wimsey. Well, as you can probably predict, I am in trouble again this week with Maria (my human) and Elizabeth (a friend of hers) for gloating about being right about not being too fat—at least not according to my breeder and show handler. Of course there are people who think everyone is too fat—Dr. Phil springs to mind somehow. He would probably encourage me to count out the individual pieces of kibble and only eat half of them. Of course dieting when you subsist on kibble is not all that difficult, so perhaps I should pay for my excessive upkeep by writing a bestselling diet book. Maybe something like: “Lose Weight the Wimsey Way: The Nibble the Kibble Diet.” And when dieters are not nibbling the kibble they can participate in The Wimsey Exercise Plan: towing heavy, resisting objects at the end of a long leash, greeting guests by running, jumping and launching, hopping on and off the furniture repeatedly, no paws barred wrestling, and the classic: running away from angry people one has just goosed. I also highly recommend stalking squirrels in extreme slo-mo as an excellent way to improve muscle strength and balance. It is very similar to Tai chi. And of course, you would be able to order Wimsey’s special Fat Burning Kibble direct from Wimsey Diet Enterprises, Inc (“WIDE”) at some ridiculous price to help convince you of how efficacious it is. And what special diet food would be complete be without a secret (and very expensive) ingredient: “…It is a common myth that people who inhabit the jungles of the Amazon are thin because they have no food. Not so! Recent investigations undertaken by the Wimsey Anthropological Group have discovered that Amazonian natives stay trim by ingesting assorted glands of the Creamy Bellied Gnatcatcher. And now for a mere pittance you too can share the joys of protuberant bones and sunken cheeks with these eternally trim native peoples …”
But I digress. Anyway, this week with my humans it’s been all: “Look, Wimsey is gloating” and “Wimsey is insufferable when he gloats. and “Of course, Wimsey is insufferable when he’s doesn’t gloat,” etc. etc. etc. You can imagine the kind of stuff. But I am a good tempered hound and never take offense at their comments. Now if one of them were to sink their teeth into me, it would be another matter entirely. Humans who are scared of words have clearly never been jumped by an irate Rottweiler.
Now this week I have also been asked quite a bit if I am suffering from post-Westminster let down. Well, in a way I wish I were, as perhaps this would discourage Maria and Elizabeth. They have had their heads buried together in show schedules all week and I have heard much talk of handling classes and clickers, etc. Clearly they thought we all had so much fun showing at Westminster that they intend for the bon temps to continue to rouler, so to speak. Of course, they still have to convince me not to pace and to stand in that weird position (good luck) but all of that is going to pretty much require my weight in turkey, so I am not entirely displeased (125 lbs is a lot of turkey!) And then there are the abundant and public misbehaving opportunities to look forward to.
The other delightful event of this week was something everyone calls “President’s Day” but I call “Wimsey Day”. Of course Maria and Elizabeth tell me that every day seems to turn into Wimsey Day, but this was an official Wimsey Day. Elizabeth spent the morning distracting me so Maria could work on the computer (on my website, naturally). Now generally, the use of the computer is an activity that I discourage. I balance my hind legs on the Tribute Couch and plant my front legs squarely on Maria and thus completely obscure her view of the computer screen. And of course, shifting me from that position requires more upper body strength than Maria possesses, (she is always threatening to take up bodybuilding to thwart me). Anyway, it is not that I am inherently opposed to technology—I enjoy trying to eat the cell phone as much as the next canine—but use of the computer distracts from attention to me, which is always undesirable. Also, it will make you fat. On Wimsey Day, however, I magnanimously permitted the use of the computer in exchange for Elizabeth’s undivided attention to my scratching and wrestling needs. Afterwards, the three of us went on a 2 ½ hour trot (or should I say pace) through Central Park-- all part of the Wimsey fitness plan. These ladies should always remember that they owe their fine figures to me! My only regret is that we have had a paucity of snow this year. Now last year it was a great winter, at least for me. Elizabeth immersed herself in mountaineering websites trying to identify footwear of sufficient traction and crampons of sufficient length and pointiness to allow her to remain upright whilst walking me (did I mention that I outweigh her and that as she is petite, she topples marvelously with surprisingly little effort). I wish I had been there when all these salesmen inquired as to which glacier she intended tackling and she was forced to admit that there was no glacier, just a bloodhound.
Now before I retire to contemplate my burgeoning diet business, I want to say that one of the best things about having a blog are all the friends one makes out here in the blogoshpere. Recently, I have become aware of a young Newfoundland called Nanook who is a puppy after my own heart (http://nanookthenewfy.blogspot.com/). Not only is he very large and drooly like me, but great minds think alike. He too has realized the hilarity that ensues when petite humans are at the other end of a leash and is he is rapidly discovering the joys of thwarting human aims (very character improving for them too, I always say). And, like me, he is subject to a surprisingly similar assortment of fatuous human questions and comments such as: “How big is he?” (wanna wrestle and find out?) “Does he drool?”(step over here and let me answer that) “How much does he eat?” (more than you can and look this good) “What kind of dog is he?” (if you have to ask, you don’t want one) and “Look at the size of those paws” (you know what they say about the size of the paws...)
And of course, there is also my friend Boomer from California, (http://fugitivefromthedogstar.blogspot.com/) who exhibits a fine irrepressible, canine spirit (although he does have a cat!) Now the great thing about canines is that however much we may differ in appearance or temperament or lifestyle from each other, there is always more that unites us than that separates us. I am sure that when George Washington and the Founding Fathers adopted “E pluribus unum” as our national motto they looked to us canines as their inspiration. Out of the many (breeds), One (desire to be maximally inconvenient to humans).
OK. Time to shred the new Chinese takeout menu that has just been slipped under the door.
Until next week.
All the best,
P.S: George Washington kept a pack of hounds and Abraham Lincoln had a mixed breed called Fido. Perhaps current presidential aspirants should take note of the positive correlation between dog ownership and becoming president… (Although I am not sure that a President with a bloodhound would be such a good idea—think of the potential for international drool incidents, shredded treaties and disrupted congressional meetings, etc).