Entry # 30
August 31, 2007
Hello Everyone . It’s me Wimsey. Well this has been quite a lazy week here in the Big Bully Stick. Most actual residents have vamoosed for vacation and the city is teeming with tourists which means I am attracting even more than my usual share of Homo sapienonic attention. Now as I previously mentioned, my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth are incredibly proud of the fact that they can tell people what kind of dog I am in many languages. Well, not exactly what kind of dog I am (drooly, smelly, insubordinate, etc) but what my breed is. And the other day they were asked this question by a group with an accent. Elizabeth prepared once again to demonstrate her linguistic prowess and asked where they were from. Their reply: Bulgaria.
Anyway all these tourists come equipped with cameras which they deploy pretty freely and not just around me (although I have found a relaxing spot in front of the Turtle Pond that pretty much guarantees that any picture taken of Belvedere Castle will also include me). Then my human Maria made a very brilliant observation: “Every picture looks better with a Hound in it.” Now I could not agree with her more and this got me thinking, not just about photographs but about the Great Masterworks of Art. Would not they too look better with the insertion of a Hound? So, I, Wimsey have now embarked on a new project to rectify this heinous omission. Some results are below and I will be providing others for your viewing pleasure in upcoming weeks. I am also thinking of creating a coffee table book. Of course, I could never be permitted anywhere near this coffee table book (or an actual coffee table, for that matter) because I would eat them, but there is no reason why others should not bask in the genius of my artistic talents.
Of course, I inspect my testicles all the time in a public place, so I didn’t see the validity of the objection. Also show judges don’t seem to have any compunction about inspecting them in a public place either. In addition, my testicles are much admired by many of the male residents of New York City who frequently comment on their lovely proportions and pleasing prominence. And if the ladies were worried about looking weird, how do they think they look staring at my testicles?
Then of course there ensued great debate about which one of them would inspect my testicles and all kinds of alarming theories were proposed about what could be the matter with them. Finally, Elizabeth reached out and gave them a tentative squeeze and discovered what I had known all along. We bloodhounds are a wrinkly lot and loose folds of skin abound pretty much everywhere-- even there. And if I have been lying in a certain way, this skin assumes a variety of unusual shapes that tend to persist for a while—the point being the most common configuration. Personally, I think it gives them a rather jaunty avant garde look very much in keeping with the edgy New York lifestyle. Well, the ladies were so relieved that untoward things weren’t going on down there that I instantly came in for some serious scratching and cooing. Even so, my hound jewels were kept under careful observation for the rest of the day and Maria called Elizabeth with further evening updates on the diminishing state of the point.
I must say, sometimes it is a real trial that my humans are female. They simply cannot appreciate all the ramifications of maleness. Indeed, my shape shifting testicles caused a great debate about whether human males can get pointy also and a number of ideas were bruited about as to the best method of ascertaining the truth of this. I wish them a lot of luck with that one.
Wimsey’s Top Summer Movie Musicals
An American Hound in Paris: An artistic hound eats a lot of cheese, plays in the fountains and pees all over the Champs Elysee. He is discovered baying in a cabaret and improbably becomes the toast of café society. Picasso purchases one of his drool art canvasses and claims it as inspiration for his Hound Period.
Houndelot: We go back to a mythical time when heroic Hounds ruled the world (pretty much like today) and the Knights of the Hound Table performed houndly feats of courage, such as rescuing houndkind from evil nail clipper wielding wizards and stealing important magical swords.
Gentlemen Prefer Hounds: A group of rich and successful humans sacrifice everything to be towed around Tiffany’s and Petco by a pack of alluring female hounds. The Hounds then desert them for a carton of Grom gelato.
The Hound and I: A young hound teaches an eastern potentate the civilized arts of baying, drool flinging, food stealing and not bathing, inadvertently causing a revolution among his subjects.
My Fair Hound: An ordinary hound is transformed into a show dog hound, fools the judges at Westminster and eats the hats of the ladies at Ascot.
The Hound of Music: A disobedient Hound is kicked out of the kennel and helps a renegade nun teach the Von Trapp children to bay in three part harmony and not listen to their annoying father. The Hound saves the family by short circuiting the electrical system of pursuing Nazi cars by peeing in their engines.
Seven Hounds for Seven Brothers: Seven stinky and disgusting young men become even more so when seven hounds move in with them.
Bayin’ in the Rain: A rain hating Hound is cited for noise pollution and ear damage during a long stretch of rainy weather.
West Side Hound Story: A breed war erupts when a gang of terriers challenges the turf of a pack of hounds. The terriers beat up the Hounds but lose the war in the face of superior excretory hydraulic power.
Wimsey Poppins: A mischievous Hound invades a sedate London household, commandeers the family’s possessions, wreaks havoc with its routine and teaches the children how to be charmingly insubordinate.
The Hound of Oz: A lost teenager from Kansas discovers a realm ruled by a Hound. Then she discovers that she is really at home.
Well, anyway, so much for music and art. I am off to mess with my snake for a bit before I am summoned to Wimsey Bath Night.
Until next time,
Professor Wimsey, The Art and Music Hound