Friday, September 18, 2009

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #136

Entry #136
September 18, 2009

Hello everyone. Wimsey here, back in the saddle so to speak after my brief non-posting hiatus last week. And as usual I am coming to you from the glorious and newly autumnal Upper West Side of Manhattan, where things are always pretty entertaining, especially if you are me. Or if, like my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth, you are lucky enough to be accompanied by me.

Sadly this week I don’t have any celebrity encounters to relate—you will remember a couple of weeks ago I was made much of by hot young actor Matthew Bomer who is in town filming his new TV show, White Collar (it premiers October 23 at 10pm on USA so if you want to get a glimpse of the bloodhound loving thespian who set my ladies hearts aflutter, tune in). Well although I have not yet had a further opportunity to fling drool into his comely face, his character, Neal Cafferty is following me on Twitter. And as you can see we are both pretty handsome guys, so I have to admit that my ladies have rather good taste.

(Although I wonder if he ever looks like this sometimes too). Personally I think his show needs a bloodhound (what TV show doesn’t need a bloodhound—although the title would have to be changed to White With Brown Blotches Collar). The motto of the USA network is after all “characters welcome” which I think would definitely include me.

Bloodhound Enhanced TV Shows

Hell’s Kitchen: Aspiring chefs rush to make dishes before they are “tasted” by the show’s bloodhound. Although Chef Wimsey seldom rejects anything and doesn’t yell colorful obscenities he rarely leaves anything over for the guests to eat either.

Bones: A new scientist who happens to be a bloodhound brings efficiency to the labs at the Jeffersonian. The use of the Hound’s powerful nose to link the scent on the human remains to the killer obviates the need for all the expensive tests and boring science enabling more time to be devoted to Agent Booth’s pursuit of a woman way too smart for him.

Monk: When obsessive compulsive detective Monk gets uncooperative he is threatened with having a bloodhound as a roommate. After one afternoon with Captain Stotlemeyer’s bloodhound Wimsey, Monk has to be hospitalized and heavily sedated and for weeks afterwards suffers drool flashbacks.

American Idol: Singers must demonstrate their ability to project and to command a stage by competing with a very loud, very cute scene stealing bloodhound. Although upping the entertainment quotient of the show the presence of the bloodhound ruins the suspense of who is going to win because it’s always him.

Lost: It turns out that the smoke monster is really an exceptionally annoying bloodhound thus motivating the survivors of Oceanic 815 to stop time traveling and get the hell off that island.

Survivor: The inclusion of a bloodhound among the cast makes it a foregone conclusion about who will outwit, outlast and outplay the others. The show invariably ends with the bloodhound gaining weight from all the food he has stolen and been given and wearing everyone else’s clothes that he has been shredding. But everyone loves him anyway and he always gets all the jury votes.

Extreme Makeover Home Addition: The show is made more extreme by the presence of a bloodhound who has his own ideas about home renovation.

Desperate Housewives: The housewives get more desperate because a bloodhound moves into Wisteria Lane and digs up all the wisteria. The men of Fairview find him so engaging that they spend all their time hanging out with him instead of cheating on their wives, hiding their pasts or trying to murder each other.

Law and Order SUV: The team gives up on cases “ripped from the headlines” when a bloodhound seems to do a better job at that. Instead they all go joyriding around New York City with their adorable new colleague. In the end it turns out that more people want to watch a show about that.

Anyway, not all entertaining park encounters involve celebrities. For instance, last night when I was towing along minding everyone else’s business I espied a nice looking South American tourist couple who appeared to have four unoccupied hands which I strongly felt could be put to better use. So I moseyed over to them and magnanimously allowed them to offer the appropriate tribute when the woman asked my name. A pretty standard request. But then she asked a most startling question and one which, I have to admit, I never expected to be asked. She asked if I had had puppies. So Elizabeth helpfully pointed out that those were in fact testicles that she was looking at and made the appropriately generous “hand full of” gesture with which that organ is frequently associated. She then pointed to the male member of the couple and said “I bet he knows what they are.” “Ah, yes” the guy exclaimed, “in fact I have some.” And then he explained gleefully, much to his companion’s extreme embarrassment, that the woman in question was in fact a veterinary student. (Maria missed the whole encounter as she had her nose busily buried in her Blackberry-- no doubt Googling some earth shatteringly important topic like broccoli). Anyway as we left the happy couple she was trying rather futilely to explain to the snickering guy that something about the angle with which I was being viewed was the cause of the confusion. But somehow given the look of merriment on the fellow’s face I have a feeling that her fellow vet students will shortly be regaled with the tale of me being mistaken for a girl. Of course being called a sissy name like Wimsey instead of a macho name like my father Stetson never helps. Nevertheless Maria was pretty surprised when she heard the story because in addition to the afore-mentioned prominently displayed furry orbs (for which I am so justly often admired), I am also the proud possessor of another conspicuously male accoutrement which I am happy to say is of an equally impressive size.

But anyway, let’s see what else has been going on—we had a beautiful Labor Day weekend here although Elizabeth was babysitting Heidi the pit bull. Elizabeth has never succeeded in getting a reasonable picture of us together because Heidi shares my belief that standing still (especially if there is a camera involved) is anathema. But here we are together, me doing what I do best and Heidi being entirely unimpressed, like most of the lady dogs I encounter. And the refrain “Wimsey get your nose out of that dog” was once again resoundingly heard. But I certainly impressed this little group in the park (a visiting French firefighter and his friends)—he even dug out an empty water bottle especially for me. There really should be a game show called Hound for a Day where humans compete to be treated like Hounds for 24 hours:

Things that happen to the winner of Hound for a Day

Get up in the morning and the boss gives you the day off because you're you. Also gives you a raise.

Go to the bank to take out some money and the bank manager insists on giving you extra because he likes to see you made happy.

Go food shopping and a cart full of meat appears free of charge. The butcher thinks you’re looking thin.

People on the street smile at you and stop to tell you how wonderful you are. Crowds of admirers frequently gather around you also.

Everyone is very excited to see you and lots of people want to take your picture.
At the restaurant other diners buy you your favorite foods.

Your friends come over and send you off for a spa day and then admire the results and tell you how good looking you are.

Taxis stop for you immediately even if it’s rush hour and they have the off duty sign on.
Everyone wants to hear your life story.

No one rams into you with their cart in Fairway.

No matter how much mess you make someone is always on hand to clean it up.

Celebrities stop you and ask you for your autograph.

Your mother confesses she always did like you best.

And also of course over Labor Day I spent a great deal of time watching the U.S. Open Tennis Tournament and was quite fascinated with young Melanie Oudin. Especially the remarks made by the commentators who variously described her as “hard working” “determined” and “in possession of a good attitude”, etc. This is like telling someone that their blind date has a lot of personality. All of which added up to sports code talk for “we really don’t know why she’s winning, we don’t think she has that good a game.” Which of course made me think of all the social code talk that could be used to describe me:

Wimsey is very cute (if he weren’t he would be even more unbearable to live with)

Wimsey is a bit large for a bloodhound (he’s the Godzilla of bloodhounds)

Wimsey has a beautiful voice (in fact some people find it a terrifyingly beautiful voice, others just find it terrifying)

Wimsey is very affectionate (he likes to sit on you and have you pet him when the mood strikes him ((usually when you are trying to do something else)).

Wimsey likes to follow scent (he drags you around the park in pursuit of olfactory pleasure, then stops dead and stands for twenty minutes smelling the same blade of grass)

Wimsey’s drool helps him follow scent (and when he needs a new supply of it he gets rid of the old stuff by flinging it in your face).

Wimsey is a wonderful Hound (but a horrible dog).

Anyway in honor of the fact that there is a South American vet student running around who thinks I look like a girl, the Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art presents The Millinery Shop (Edgar Degas, 1864, Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago, IL). Now this is a wonderfully intimate work by Degas who loved to explore private spaces (I too like to explore private spaces, just not the ones Degas had in mind). We view this milliner in the act of creating a new hat and so absorbed is she in her work that she is totally unaware of the viewer. But there is no customer in her shop trying on her creations—Degas apparently originally intended to depict one but then changed his mind. Perhaps if the customer in question were as distinguished a dowager as this magnificent lady Hound he would have changed his mind. See how lovely she looks in her pink hat and how she is nonetheless covetously eyeing the new creation. Perhaps she is thinking that it looks delicious. In any case she is putting on a fine display of the acquisitive nature of her kind.Wimsi in the Millinery Shop.

Well I am afraid we are out of time, but next week should be very interesting. Apparently the people at Maria’s new job know very little about her but a lot about me and are demanding that I make myself available so that they can pay personal tribute. Elizabeth has her doubts that this is such a good idea—being slimed is a lot funnier in the abstract and when it happens to other people. But they’ve been warned.

Until next time,

Wimsey, a Hound of parts (and all of them masculine)


Edie and Gus said...

Wimsey a girl?? BAHAHAHAHA!!
But wait--did it lead to extra treats?? A masculine bloodhound such as yourself could probably stand a little mistaken gender identity if it led to something like, hmmm, well, maybe a chicken sandwich?

Looks like you continue to enjoy warm weather. We are gearing up for snow in the forecast this week. And yes, the dreaded sled dog harness was brandished, then actually fitted to my manly bloodhound frame. Uh oh.

Gus, Unwilling Sled Dog of Alaska

Bentley said...

Wimsey, I saw your tweet about your blog being listed - congratulatory baying at you!

Mom doesn't watch much TV beyond baseball, but she thinks she'd watch the shows you mentioned if they did, indeed, feature the addition of a bloodhound! Now that would be entertainment!


PS to Gus - Snow?!? Augh!

Marmalade said...

My Mom can attest that Wimsey is definitely a very manly hound...

Cindy said...

Wow! What a post. I have a hound dog of sorts. He is a half black lab and the best part a basset hound. We are at

Big Dog Harness Man said...

It all began with "Duke" on The Beverly Hillbillies.Who knew it would come so far from such humble beginnings!!