August 14, 2009
Hello Everyone. It’s me Wimsey coming to you from the Upper West Side of Manhattan, which, given all the adulation that I received this week, has apparently become the vacation spot of choice for the Hound lovers of the world. My human Maria and her friend Elizabeth don’t get to vacation anywhere because where they go, I go and finding a vacation spot that would welcome a one such as me is tough. Even when attending out of town dog shows, Maria and I would remain hidden in the car whilst Elizabeth checked in 2 people and 1 dog. Not two people and a giant, smelly drooly, massively shedding and baying dog. Their view was that what the front desk didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them and anyway my humans are very adept at dehounding rental cars and hotel rooms. Too bad about their own apartments.
But before I continue with the events of the week, I want to let you know that I have a new video on YouTube: It concerns some energetic fun I had with a Bumble Ball.
Anyway, the week got off to a bang or should I say a bay as I made an astounding and outstanding discovery—if you bay into someone’s crotch it muffles the sound and changes the bay’s timbre. So now in addition to:
the greeting bay
the you over there come play with me bay
the I’m bored bay
the give me that bay
the give me that right now bay
the making the traffic light change to green bay
the if you don’t let me out of this show ring I won’t shut up bay
the I see a water bottle bay
the let’s charge down the stairs faster bay
the pathetic why can’t we cross against the light bay and
the peeved why am I not getting what I want bay,
I have added the crotch bay. And speaking of baying, the AKC asked to borrow me in October to stand around in midtown Manhattan to help promote their upcoming Meet The Breeds event at the Javits center. They apparently want a conspicuous canine. My humans were also asked if I bay on command as they felt that this would add to my conspicuousness-- as if a 127 lb. bloodhound standing on a street corner in midtown Manhattan wouldn’t be conspicuous enough. My humans opined that getting me to bay probably wouldn’t really be a problem and that the relevant question is not whether I bay on command but whether I stop baying on command (as those of you who read this blog can surmise, I do pretty much nothing on command). Now while dog lovers are charmed by the sound of me baying, I can frequently send a crowd of pedestrians scurrying in terror with even one of my modest “change the light” bays. But somehow I don’t think this is what the AKC had in mind by being conspicuous.
And speaking of meet the breeds, there has been a bumper crop of tourists meeting me this week. The highlight of this was Wednesday-- it was like Mayor Bloomberg had decreed Wimsey Appreciation Day-- when groups of exchange students were being led around Central Park by various guides. Not only was I surrounded by oohing and ahhing picture taking and petting young adults, but one guide even stopped--with me in the center of a circle--to lecture the group on The Bloodhound. Considering that I have apparently become one of the major attractions to be seen in Central Park, it was quite appropriate. Maybe I should start charging for my appearances (I mean the monetary kind of charging, not the kind I usually do).
Anyway, when all the tour groups had passed there were still many individual tourists interested in meeting me. And we were in deep discussion with two of them on the all important issue of my gunky ears and the helpful nature of the R-7 ear cleaning system when a teen aged lad approached and said he overheard that I had a website. Well of course Elizabeth handed him one of my cards and proudly announced that I have a blog, YouTube videos and also was on Twitter. And the next thing you know the fellow had tweeted about meeting a Hound who tweets. The initiative and immediacy of action of this member of the younger generation was most impressive, but is got me thinking about the end result of it all --not only questions like “Why is this telephone hooked into a wall?” but “Why does this book have so many words?”
Hamlet (Wimsey Twitter Version)
Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Mother married his father’s murderer, Uncle Claudius. Bad dude. Father’s ghost confirms murder. Advises revenge.
Hamlet v. depressed. No shrinks in 16C Denmark. Hot court chick Ophelia confesses her love. Hamlet tells her to buzz off, preferably to nunnery.
Hamlet has actors reenact father’s death. Claudius flees in panic. Guilt confirmed (or maybe just had urgent need for the loo).
Claudius exiles pesky nephew cum step son to England. Plans to have him murdered there. (English v. good at such things).
But first Hamlet has chat with mother and accidentally kills Polonius, Ophelia’s father. Oops. (Hiding behind curtains when Hamlet in murderous rage re: Claudius v. dangerous).
Ophelia drowns self in river. Hamlet realizes always loved Ophelia- nunnery stuff was just the depression talking. Becomes even more depressed.
Ophelia’s brother Laertes vows revenge. Hamlet unable to reach England-pirate trouble apparently. Tells BFF Horatio he is prepared to die.
Which is good because Claudius now on murder plot overdrive. Poisons both Laertes sword pre friendly fencing match with the H-man and prepares thirst quenching goblet of poison in event Laertes swordsmanship sucks.
Laertes nicks Hamlet, then Mother drinks poison and dies, then Hamlet stabs Laertes who dies, then he stabs Claudius (and just to be on safe side makes him finish goblet of thirst quenching poison) who dies. Finally, Hamlet dies.
Everyone suddenly dead! Arriving Norwegian Prince Fortinbras horrified at carnage. BFF Horatio tells the tale. Hamlet carried away in honor. Fortinbras ascends throne on the basis of Norwegians being much more cheerful than Danes.
Using the Twitter Method of Advanced Education it should be possible to finish college by the time one is twelve.
And the of course Twitter will allow students immediate insight into world leaders:
Obama: Good guy to have a beer with
Putin: Not a good guy to have a beer with
Sarkozy: Pretty wife. Sharp clothes. French.
Berlusconi: Older dude liking the ladies.
Gordon Brown: Who?
Angel Merkel: Once groped by W
And so forth.
Anyway, back to my life. Our usual long walk on Sunday was miraculously not rained out (probably because my humans were carrying my raincoat in anticipation of the predicted storm) and we ran into a special group of friends. As my humans were once again pestering me with the camera I began baying at a car across the road adjacent to the North Woods-- the only thing on their viewfinder was my magnificent tush. The car was marked “Livery” and as a couple of guys got out of the car I commenced towing and greeting operations.
My humans were totally puzzled until one of the men approached and Maria noticed the gun strapped to his waist. They were of course some of my beloved police officers from the 20th precinct. In fact one of them was instrumental in procuring me plastic bottles to play with during my July 4th cop-a –thon. My humans were once again amazed at my olfactory prowess—I can distinguish police officers in plain clothes or in unmarked cars just as easily as if they are in uniform and in one of their many types of marked vehicles. And I can always distinguish a police vehicle from the non-constabular kind. This has engendered quite a guessing game amongst my humans as to how I do it, but the best guess so far came from an old friend of Maria’s who was once a policeman. His theory: I smell the gun oil. But I’m not telling.
Anyway, after much socializing with two of the officers I noticed that the third refused to get out of the car. Apparently he was afraid of dogs and shockingly even my vociferous baying at him did not convince him to come out of the car and pet me. I got my way in the end though (as I usually do) when we ran into them later as they were stopped at a crosswalk. I went over to the reluctant officer’s window and put on my most adorable expression and he caved--he reached out and patted my head. Charm has its uses.
And then later in the day I heard my name being called and it was a couple we run into every few months. Short video below.
So it was a very enjoyably social Sunday.
Well the other exciting news around here is that Elizabeth finally bought a reed dispenser for her apartment in an attempt to de-Houndify the atmosphere (I have been spending afternoons at her apartment). But reed dispensers only have a few reeds sticking out of the oil bottle while I have a virtually unlimited number of scent dispensing hairs sticking out of me. And I also distribute these widely. Now these reed dispensers come in a variety of herb, flower and fruit scents such as thyme, lavender and pomegranate. But I think there could be other more appealing scents:
Wimsey Brand Reed Dispensers
Tincture of Tush
Loads of Liver
Piles of Poop
Elixir of Crotch
Tempest of Tampons
Panties Panties Panties
Rivers of Rubbish
Oodles of Offal
Clouds of Cop
Well before I get too excited just thinking about the lovely scents that these reed dispensers would bring to any home, it is time for our weekly visit to the Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art. Today’s selection is one of French post-impressionist Paul Cezanne’s most impressive still lifes: Apples and Oranges (Paul Cezanne, 1899, Musee d’Orsay, Paris). Here we can see not only Cezanne’s mastery of pattern, color, design and composition—note the wonderful crisp lines of the fruit—but also the reason why he is one of the fathers of modern art. Cezanne presaged the cubists in his interest in the use of different planes and perspectives applied to objects in the same painting—it is why somehow the way some of the fruit is sitting appears not quite right. But there is something else that is not quite right about this painting. The fruit is resting on a highly accessible surface and is unmolested. But see how much more real the painting looks with the insertion of a magnificent food filching Hound! And the Hound is assessing the quality of the fruit to determine whether it would be more enjoyable to eat or to play with. He looks about to have some serious fun which adds a dynamic element to the otherwise tranquil painting. Apples and Oranges and Wimsey.
Well that is about all for this week. Am hoping for some less humid weather and some drier humans (although the humid weather does bring out the delicious natural odors in humans that only a connoisseur of scent such as myself can fully appreciate).
Until next time,