Friday, June 20, 2008

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry # 72
June 20, 2008

Hello Everyone! Wimsey here coming to you from the lush and lavish Upper West Side of Manhattan—lush due to all the rain induced vegetation that is sprouting everywhere and lavish due to the attentions that my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth pay me. Of course all the rain this week, whilst good for the plants, has mightily cheesed me off—if I had wanted to live in a tropical rainforest I would have moved to one, although I am not sure that chasing monkeys would be as much fun as chasing squirrels. But I think I would make an excellent Tarzan type figure—swinging from vines by my teeth and baying to scare away encroaching humans. Well maybe not exactly scaring them…

Jungle Explorer 1: What’s that ear splitting noise!


Jungle Explorer 2: It’s Wimzan the Ape Hound! He’s been raised in the jungle by apes since he was a puppy.


Jungle Explorer 1: What does he want?


Jungle Explorer 2: Everything.


Jungle Explorer 1: But if he takes everything, how will we survive.


Jungle Explorer 2: He doesn’t care about that—even though he was raised by apes, he’s still a Hound.


Jungle Explorer 1: But how will he get everything?


Jungle Explorer 2: Well his filching skills are legendary and he also possesses magical powers.


Jungle Explorer 1: Magical powers?


Jungle explorer 2: Yes. It is said that when Wimzan gazes at you with his soulful

droopy eyes and deep adorable wrinkles it robs you of all judgment and logic. You willingly turn over all your possessions to him and become his minion.


Jungle Explorer 1: Is there no way to stop this fiendishly acquisitive Hound?


Jungle Explorer 2: Well we could trap him with some Grom gelato—he has an inexhaustible appetite for their $5 scoops of vanilla. Just don’t let him fling drool on you—it attracts the ants.


Jungle Explorer 1: But what happens after we trap him?


Jungle Explorer 2: Then you have to take him home and live with him.


Jungle Explorer 1: Dump everything and run!

And speaking of living with me—this weekend it is Elizabeth’s well deserved privilege to take care of me as Maria has skived off to an out of town wedding. I can tell that Elizabeth has the utmost concern for my well being as she strongly admonished Maria’s friend, who is in charge of transport, to drive with extreme caution so as to return Maria to me safe and sound. In fact Elizabeth always seems to be greatly solicitous of Maria’s health. I can’t imagine why.

But anyway, although it felt like I was living in a tropical rainforest this week I remain the quintessential Hound of New York City and as such I have been getting in touch with my inner metrosexual Hound—the more handsome I am the more I am admired and the more I am indulged, so it is not wholly vanity that drives my interest in my appearance. (New York City men use a similar strategy I believe, except that they foolishly covet dates instead of plastic water bottles). But my career as a metrosexual really took off this week with the arrival of a little rubber thing called a Zoom Groom. Now using this ineffectual looking device, which has rubber cones instead of bristles, is brilliant and causes the hair to fly off of me (belying the insidious misconception that handsome hounds such as myself don’t shed—hair coated furniture and clothing are just another one of the joys of living with a Hound). And in addition to making me sleek, shiny and even more pettable (if that were even possible) it also provides a fantastic massage to my well exercised Hound muscles. The arrival of the Zoom Groom was the highlight of my humans’ week (if the ladies spent as much time worrying about their own grooming as they do about mine they would not lead lives highlighted by Zoom Grooms, but that is altogether another story).

Anyway, I am indebted to my good friend Mango the Mastiff for the Zoom Groom suggestion (http://mangosgreatadventures.blogspot.com). We big, deceptively hairy boys have to stick together. Now Mango weighs in at an impressive 230lbs and much sympathy is to be afforded to his family for living with the canine known as The Relentlessly Huge. But they should take comfort in the fact that living with me, the canine known as The Relentlessly Relentless, is orders of magnitude worse. When I set my mind to something—even a mind such as mine with a paucity of neurons—it is a done deal. Of course, I like to think that having a paucity of neurons is a good thing—I am unlikely to be distracted by thinking deep thoughts about the true moral value of my desires or whether I am not just being manipulated by Madison Avenue masterminds. I see it. I want it. I get it. And of course humans greatly admire persistence and tenacity, just not when these traits happen to be evinced by a Hound. So if you’re Winston Churchill (a hero to Hounds of every size and variety) they put up a memorial statue to you in Parliament Square but if you’re Wimsey they threaten to call in Cesar Millan.

Well the other big news around here is that the Museum of Natural History has a new exhibit devoted entirely to The Horse. As part of the exhibit the museum has erected these very cool fiberglass horses on the plaza (to which I have made a slight improvement). Now both my humans are pretty enthusiastic about horses and there is some idea that Maria deliberately chose a “hound of size” as it is the closest thing to actually being able to live with a horse in a Manhattan apartment. But we Hounds are a horse of a different color and I think however interesting this exhibit is, the Museum should have a show devoted to The Hound.

Synopsis of The American Museum of Natural History’s Upcoming Exhibit: The Hound

Introduction to the Hound: When being introduced to the Hound always bring a gift.

The Evolution of the Hound: Hounds evolved because humans had too much stuff and it was making them very unhappy so the Hounds arrived to relieve them of it. Also the humans were bored and Hounds evolved to take advantage of them by entertaining them while stealing their food and possessions.

The Hound and Hunter: Humans lack a sense of smell and without the Hound to find food they would have starved. The survival of the human species is entirely due to the Hound. It is why they are worshipped, even today.

Domesticating the Hound: Humans are still trying.

The Nature of the Hound: The nature of the Hound is to be acutely self-actualizing. In layman’s terms this means that they believe that they are important and that you are not.

How Humans Shaped Hounds: Humans taught Hounds to value human possessions.

How Hounds Shaped Humans: Hounds taught humans that it was pointless to try to retain these possessions in the presence of The Hound.

The Enduring Bond: Humans derive great satisfaction from pleasing the Hound. The Hound also derives great satisfaction from pleasing the Hound. (humans may have more neurons than Hounds but they don’t appear to use them very effectively).

But I must say that I always enjoy encountering horses in Central Park as they so thoughtfully leave snacks about for my munching pleasure. And it is in the spirit of equine tribute that we pay our weekly visit to the Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art. Today we examine the Work of the 18th century British artist George Stubbs who is perhaps the most famous painter of horses ever to exist. He largely painted for an aristocratic audience and was successful enough to enjoy the patronage of the Prince of Wales. In addition to pastoral scenes and horse portraits, Stubbs painted a series of unfortunate encounters between lions and horses. Horse Frightened by a Lion (George Stubbs, 1763, Tate Gallery, London). Now however exciting these types of paintings were, the fact remains that there really weren’t all that many lions roaming around rural 18th century England. So see how much more sense the painting makes if the horse is in fact frightened by a Fearsome Hound. See how brave and macho and non-metrosexual the Hound looks even if he does have a sissy name like Wimsey as he lunges toward the startled horse. However, unlike the lion, the Hound has no interest in eating the actual horse, but merely in consuming some of the natural consequences of frightened equine digestion. Horse Frightened by Wimsey.

Well it is time for me to prepare myself for my sojourn chez Elizabeth. On my agenda are ripping up her recyclables, shredding her newspapers while she is attempting to read them, monopolizing the futon, snoring when she is trying to sleep and relentlessly making myself as conspicuously annoying as possible. It’s what I do best.

Until next time,

Wimsey, The Relentlessly Relentless









3 comments:

Booker the Treeing Walker said...

I have to find one of those Zoom Grooms! My size is not as prodigious as yours, but I am working with you to prove that hounds do shed. My Mom used as "hound mit" which is a strange device that looks like a gardening glove with a pink rubber inlay. Hmmmmm ... not sure if I like it or not. So I have to tell you the BEST thing I did this morning -- after a walk to Starbucks for a plastic cup of ice (HUH???? that's all I get?) and a couple crumbs of an oatmeal bar -- I took a long, long drink of water. Then I positioned myself between the living room window and the coffee table, so the light was shining just right, and then I did a whole-head hound dog shake and SLOBBER went flying for 360 degrees, perfectly backlit by the morning sunshine. I clambered up onto the sofa and wiped my face off on the pillows. AHHHHHHHHHH you should have heard MOM shout. HEHEHEHEHEHE ... that was a three-paper towel job, which I watched with a smile.

Biggie-Z said...

Hm. I don't think the Zoom Groom would be a match for me. My mom lost my rake and she has yet to get me a new one. I had many admirers this weekend in Washington DC, which has a very odd concept of dog parks. I was called a "horse" and also a "sheep" thanks to my lack of grooming.

My mom says she's going to try to get up to Central Park again this weekend, weather permitting (and if the planets are aligned).

Biggie-Z, the Relentlessly Curly

Georgeous said...

The Zoom Groom has got my Mistress's attention, she's always faffing around dusting me, not sure if it's a botty wiper from your photo though, I s'pose I'll have to wait and see if she gets one.
Love 'n' snuffs
George