Entry # 71
June 13, 2008
Hello Everyone it’s me, Wimsey, reporting to you from the tropical climes of Manhattan Island’s Upper West Side, where the sidewalks are hot, the buildings are hot and my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth are even hotter (only in the literal sense of the word and as a result of being outdoors with me instead of sensibly lounging in the air conditioning. In any case there is no point in them trying to look hot in the non-literal sense, as when one is in the company of a massive Hound such as myself, I would surely cool off any hot look with great gobs of cool drool. So the ladies reluctantly stick to their “baggy chic” ensembles that consist of loose fitting jeans decorated with mysterious stains and practical, washable cotton Tees with somewhat more identifiable stains. Someone (nearsighted?) thought they looked like sisters the other day—what bad luck that would be for some family to have produced two of them, shuffling along in sneakered hound stained splendor rather than dancing the night away in glamorous stilettos.)
But anyway, we Hounds are seldom sensible on the question of staying indoors-- even when the thermometer tells us it’s close to 100 degrees Fahrenheit (that’s 37.7 C for those of you who live in the rest of the world) as it was earlier in the week and whither go'est one’s Hound go'est one (or in my case two). Below is my Heat Wave Montage.
And of course when the temperature goes up New Yorkers just enter an entirely new phase of denial (like the one that causes them to consider a 600 square foot apartment palatial)—if it’s hot and they are on an island, even if it is called Manhattan and not St. Bart’s, it must be time to break out the beach wear! Now personally I always enjoy the sight of the flabby multitudes oiled up and basking in the bright sunshine (and it is reassuring to see that I am not the only creature that sports a fine coat of body hair) and I always do my best to prevent their overheating by flinging refreshing drool on their exposed bits. And whereas flinging drool on clothing can often go unnoticed and unappreciated, flinging drool on bare skin seldom fails to elicit a gratifying response. I therefore have an excellent concept for a tropical resort:
Wimsey’s Tropical Paradise Resort
Hound: Welcome to Wimsey’s Tropical Paradise Resort. A place where your needs always come last. Let me help you out of your clothes.
Guest: But you’re ripping them!
Hound: Yes, they will be cooler that way. Now I will further help cool you down by placing my moist, icy nose on your pressure points. Doesn’t that feel good?
Hound: Nothing that is good for you ever does. How about a drink?
Guest: OK. I will have a beer.
Hound: Very good. I just need to taste it first to make sure it is acceptable.
Guest: But you’ve drooled in it!
Hound: Yes, and added substantially to its nutritional value. At no extra charge. How about a massage?
Hound: This is our special Javanese Claw Massage: by shoving my paws deep into these nerve bundles I can relieve your stress.
Guest: Don’t you think the pain causes more stress?
Hound: Not for me. Let me show you to your room. It’s the St. Hubert Suite.
Guest: Why is there a large smelly Hound snoring on the bed?
Hound: He comes with the suite. He’s your personal trainer: he will monitor your every bite and make sure you don’t overeat or oversleep. Also you have to exercise him a lot otherwise he will destroy what is left of your possessions. At night he will cool you down with the ecologically friendly breeze created by his incessant ear flapping. Also his flying drool will hydrate your skin. And when you lie on the beach he will cover you with sand and block out the sun with his giant hound head to prevent you getting an unsightly sun tan. And when it is time to leave Wimsey’s Tropical Paradise Resort his embedded Hound hair will serve as a permanent souvenir of your visit here.
Guest: Well, he is awfully cute…
But of course summer also brings reruns, sequels and re-releases of some of our favorite movies and TV shows--- ostensibly in case we enjoyed them so much the first time around but really because everyone in Hollywood is off disporting themselves on obscure and expensive tropical atolls that none of the rest of us know about. But being a truly creative Hound, I too have an idea for recycling an old TV concept:
Wimsey’s Fantasy Island (New York City Edition)
Tatoo the miniature dachshund: Boss de plane de plane!
Mr. Barke the majestic bloodhound: Yes. Stop that yapping Tatoo. I can see it—it is circling La Guardia along with those other 20 planes. It’s amazing that they can keep them all in the air at the same time when they are so close together!
(several hours later)
Mr. Barke: Welcome to New York City! A place where dreams might come true. What is your fantasy?
Passenger: I want to be an actress.
Mr. Barke: Excellent. We have a waitress job all lined up for you.
Tatoo the minature dachshund: Here is the limo, Boss.
Passenger: It’s a taxi!
Mr. Barke: Yes and this will be the last time you will be able to afford to take one. My treat. But don’t try to tell the driver where you want to go. He doesn’t speak English.
Passenger: But who is he speaking to then?
Mr. Barke: He’s on his cell phone. But don’t worry he has a lot of experience weaving in and out of traffic while talking on it. He hasn’t had a single accident in the three weeks he’s been driving. Ah, here we are at your luxury accommodation.
Passenger: But it’s a closet!
Mr. Barke: Not necessarily. And it has high ceilings.
Passenger: But how will I achieve my fantasy by waiting tables and living in a closet?
Mr. Barke: You won’t which is why you will be sharing your closet with a Giant Hound!
Passenger: But how will that help?
Mr. Barke: Well just like an actual actress you will be mobbed whenever you walk the streets with him. Everyone will want to talk to you and take pictures. Strangers will smile, people will wave and shout greetings and your comings and goings will be always be conspicuous and noticed. You will get to know other celebrities as they stop to chat and admire your Hound and the men will all flock around you-- after all who wouldn’t want to date a woman who has the good taste and self confidence to stroll around with a huge Hound (and who is unlikely to get annoyed by a bit of masculine mess now and again). People Magazine will do a story on you (“How I Became Famous Because of a Giant Stinky Hound: The Inside Scoop” plus “TomKat Covets Hound for Baby Suri” and “Next Adoption a Hound Declares Brangelina!”) Fortune will cover you also (“Donald Trump Declares Global Hound Futures the Next Big Thing” and “Think Hound and Grow Rich”). And all of this without the need for pesky auditions, drama classes, being in a coma in a soap opera, showing your panties or worse in public, going into rehab or making movies that appeal to 10 year old boys!
Passenger: Well, now that you put it that way, he is pretty cute…
Mr. Barke: Another job well done. Who is our next guest Tatoo?
Tatoo the miniature daschund: A man whose fantasy is to control his Hound.
Mr. Barke: Tell him we are closed for the summer.
Anyway, summer also brings out musical revivals on Broadway and one of my favorites is South Pacific because I like the song “Dites-moi” but of course in the Wimsey Songbook the lyrics are somewhat different:
Dite-moi pourquoi I like to shred stuff with my mouth
Dite-moi pourquoi I like to steal stuff that doesn’t belong to me
Dite- moi porquoi I like to fling drool on unsuspecting humans
Dite- moi porquoi I like to tow my humans around the park
Could it be because I am a Hound?
Dite- moi porquoi I like to poke people in the fanny with my nose
Dite- moi porquoi I never listen to anything humans tell me to do
Dite- moi porquoi I like to sit on laps even though I am too big
Dite- moi porquoi I emit ear splitting bays when I don’t get something I want
Could it be because I am a Hound?
Dite- moi porquoi I shed hair everywhere even though I have a short coat
Dite- moi porquoi I spread Hound scent on clothes, furniture and people
Dite- moi porquoi I need to be dragged in from the park every evening
Dite- moi porquoi I smell no matter how much you bathe me
Could it be because I am a Hound?
Dite- moi porquoi my humans let me monopolize the couch
Dite- moi porquoi my humans let me sleep in the bed
Dite- moi porquoi my humans spend lots of money on me
Dite- moi porquoi my humans never go on vacation
Could it be because they are in need of psychological counseling?
Anyway, speaking of traveling, last week I got to meet Gus the Bloodhound’s family from Fairbanks, Alaska. And in gratitude for protecting his humans from lethal squirrel attacks in Central Park he kindly sent me a delicious bag of something called Yummy Chummy made from the really disgusting parts (I hope) of salmon. Also his humans sent an amusing bandana (in Wimsey green!) in which my humans insisted on photographing me. So thanks for the food and not so much for the clothing (although I suppose it is fair that my humans sometimes make me wear human clothing as I always make them wear Hound scent).
Well, before I sign off to enjoy the Houndly splendors of summer, it is once again time for a visit to The Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art. Today we visit with an early Renaissance master, Piero della Francesca whom I like very much because he is usually referred to as just “Piero” (just like I am always referred to as just “Wimsey” even though I am really Champion Ewine Ramsey Creek’s Wimsey). Now not much is known about Piero except that he painted some of the great religious art of the 15th century and is famous for his use of geometry in his compositions and for the use of a pale luminous light in his painting. One of his most famous non-religious paintings is a diptych he painted for the masterful Duke of Urbino: Diptych Portrait of Frederico da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino and his Wife Batista Sforza (Piero della Francesca, approx. 1465-1472, Uffizi Gallery, Florence). Now the Duke was a pretty important and powerful guy and it seems like a better choice for the second portrait of the diptych would be an equally powerful and important Hound. History is vague on the subject, but it seems the Duke held his Hound and confidante Wimseo d’Urbino in great esteem and credits him for much of the success of his ducal reign. We notice immediately the symmetrical nature of their level gazes, and the naturalistic prominence of their duel proboscises. Clearly they were made for each other. The Duke of Urbino and His Hound Wimseo d’Urbino.
Well before I go it would be remiss of me not to point out that today is Friday 13th a date frequently associated with unlucky occurrences.
Unlucky things that could happen to you on Friday 13th:
Your Hound could ignore you
Your Hound could pull you over
Your Hound could steal your dinner
Your Hound could bruise your body
Your Hound could lie down and refuse to leave the park
Friday 13th a day like any other.
Until next time,
Wimsey, Hound of the Tropical Isle of Manhattan
Friday, June 13, 2008
Entry # 71
Posted by Wimsey at 8:53 PM