Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #147

Entry #147
December 4, 2009

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where not only is it starting to feel a lot like Christmas but it is also starting to smell a lot like Hound. Last Sunday after our usual four hour stroll in Central Park my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth decided to give me a bath. Things got pretty exciting when, in my efforts to evade all the vigorous toweling going on, I slammed the bathroom door shut jamming it and locking us all in! Now being locked in the bathroom is never a pleasant thing, but being locked in the bathroom with a wet and irate giant Hound is quite another thing all together. Elizabeth’s first thought was to escape using physics by trying to cool down the door parts, causing them to contract and unstick Then she realized that perhaps a more effective if less elegant solution was to yank the door open using the cutout at the bottom of the door. Thus liberated, I went on to enjoy a delightful mixed poultry post bath dinner and the ladies to enjoy giant cocktails to celebrate my new found fresh smell and their escape from Hound captivity.

Of course that was on Sunday and today being Friday there is a distinct aroma of Hound beginning to make its presence known. But in spite of the fact that baths occur in the bathroom, I do very much like it in there. I especially like giving my humans the opportunity to multi-task by paying some much needed attention to me whilst availing themselves of the facilities. As it turns out my giant Hound head is the perfect height for some scratching in that position (And should the mood strike me, I am also in perfect position to engage in a little nose nibbling).

Well let’s see, in spite of the fact that we are still having mild weather (although I have hopes that next week will usher in some brisker weather more pleasing to my frisky nature) New York is looking increasingly festive. Majestic Christmas trees now fragrantly line the streets and as always I think they look like as if they could use a little watering. My humans think not. But I am a Hound and will persevere. And of course there are plenty of parties, like the state dinner recently held at the White House. But I have a slightly different scenario in mind for the next one:


White House State Dinner #2

Hound: Hello. I’m here for Bo’s state dinner.


Secret Service Officer: I think it’s the Obama’s who are giving the dinner. What’s your name?


Hound: The Honorable Champion Ewine Ramsey Creek’s Wimsey.


Secret Service Officer: Really? What are you champion of?


Hound: What’ve you got? I am a Champion Hound which means I’m pretty much the champion of anything I set my mind to, you know like baying, towing, shredding clothes, being annoying or getting people to let me into places that I’m not supposed to be.


Secret Service Officer: Yeah, I met somebody like that at the last state dinner. Well your name’s a mouthful to pronounce. Do people really call you all those names?


Hound: You can’t begin to imagine the names people call me. But generally I am just known as Wimsey.


Secret Service Officer: I’m sorry. That’s not a very macho name but if it makes you feel any better my name is Clarence.


Hound: Well of course, my name might not be macho, but I do have a pair of these as compensation.


Secret Service Officer: Wow! Those are spectacular. Even bigger than mine and back at the Secret Service academy where we officers receive our elite training mine came in second at our annual competition.


Hound: I didn’t know you guys held conformation events.


Secret Service Officer: Well protecting the president can get pretty boring and checking names on all these lists is so intellectually taxing that we have to come up with ways to make our lives more meaningful. And any guy would be hard pressed to think of anything more intrinsically fascinating than the masculine parts.


Hound: Well, it’s nice to meet someone who understands what’s really important in life. Now I am getting a bit peckish so unless you’re willing to part with those doughnuts I really must be getting in to dinner.


Secret Service Officer: Well Champion Wimsey, I don’t seem to have you on my list.


Hound: I was probably on the list that I ate. Is President Nicolas Sarkozy of France on your list?


Secret Service Officer: Yes.


Hound: Well that’s me. I’m incognito this evening.


Secret Service Officer: Well why didn’t you say so! Now that you mention it I can’t think of how I didn’t recognize you---that Gallic charm and sophistication, the aesthetic appreciation of male anatomy, the fine French fragrance you’re wearing.


Hound: Thanks. I’m also interested in couture, particularly Mrs. Obama’s new gown.


Secret Service Officer: Of course. And if you see a little beagle in there say hello to German Chancellor Merkel for me.


I certainly think I should be invited to the next State Dinner (assuming invitations are required) and I even have a dashing new piece of attire to wear. My Ruff Wear fleece winter coat arrived this week. Here you can see how happy I am about being woken up from a nice nap on Elizabeth’s futon to try it on. Talk about a person needing instant gratification! And now Maria is thinking about have a special little closet designed especially to hold my burgeoning wardrobe—perhaps something in a nice Mahogany that is embossed with a curlicue W with a little crown on top of it all in gold leaf. And of course no wire hangers-- they’re much too hard to chew. But a big AHROOO to the Ruff Wear people for making bloodhound shaped clothing (they also made my cooling coat). The fit is excellent. Plenty of room for my deep operatic chest and my expansive dewlap. A real feat of canine haberdashery.

And speaking of my operatic chest, I was doing a little concertizing on the street today, much to the admiration of opera loving New Yorkers (my instrument has a very rich, pure sound with excellent tonal variation) when someone suggested that I should be singing at the Met. Now I think this is an excellent idea not the least because there is an enormous and very parched looking Christmas tree in middle of the Lincoln Center Plaza. But are there enough operas with parts for me? Perhaps a few could be adapted:

Wimsey’s Guide to Hound Opera

Hound of Seville

Count Wimsey is love with Phoebe. But the bitch is staying with Dr. Beagle who also desires to mate with her. Count Wimsey disguises himself as a series of former best in show winners at Westminster to convince her that marrying outside her breed would result in funny looking puppies. His extensive serenading finally wins her heart (or perhaps she relents to preserve her hearing, Rossini was unclear on this point). In any event Dr. Beagle consoles himself by eating the wedding feast.

La Boheme de St. Hubert

A group of artistic but economically challenged Hounds are living a life of wine, women and baying in a picturesque 19th century Parisian garret. The hero Wimsio sticks his nose into the posterior of the beautiful lady Hound Me Me and falls desperately in love. But alas not only is she not in season, she is suffering from distemper. In spite of raising money by selling all his toys and kibble on eBay for the vet bills she travels over the rainbow bridge anyway (veterinary medicine not being all it was cracked up to be in the 19th century). Wimsio thinks of jumping into the Seine and joining her but then remembers he’s got webbed feet. Also his friend Gusso shows up with a stolen salmon.

Carmen

The Spanish gypsy Carmen, who also moonlights as a smuggler, lives a wanton life of seducing and abandoning men. She ensorcells a respectable sergeant named Don Jose and causes him to go AWOL. Then she loses all interest in men because she becomes obsessed with a handsome manipulative Hound, Don Wimsi, and spends all her time smuggling in pate from France for him and catering to his every whim. Even worse, she lets herself go, and starts wearing baggy clothes smuggled in from El El Beano. Don Jose loses his mind and a Hound claims another victim.

Faust

Deeply depressed about not having a life, Faust makes a deal with the devil and acquires a magnificent Hound. Suddenly he is very popular and finds that not only is he meeting all kinds of celebrities but the Hound is a major chick magnet and he even starts dating that hottie, Marguerite. Unfortunately Faust also finds that he never has any socks and the walls of his abode are perpetually coated with a viscous slime (where are the Ghostbusters when you need them) and he still actually doesn’t have a life-- just in a different way. Faust realizes too late that there is no such thing as a free lunch, except for the one his Hound stole.

Cosi Fan Tutte

Two young men think that their fiancées will always remain true to them. However, Don Huberto, an older and wiser guy bets them that this is not true. As part of the bet, Don Huberto introduces the young women to two adorable Hounds. Before they know it, the Hounds are sleeping in the young women’s beds and getting delicious home cooked meals, privileges never enjoyed by the young foolish gentlemen. In the end the men decide they still love their fiancées and marry them in spite of their lack of loyalty. Unfortunately for them the Hounds are also part of the deal.

Der Bluthhund

A drunken guy named Falke dresses up as a bat (Die Fledermaus) as part of a frat house dare and is abandoned in the middle of town square by his buddy Baron von Eisenstein. He is humiliated as the bat costume reveals certain anatomical deficiencies and the townspeople make fun of him every time they see him (being Batman was apparently not cool in 19th century Austria). As an act of revenge Falke invites the Baron to a fancy dress party and tells him that if he dresses up as a Bloodhound he will likely score with a hot hound-loving chick. The Baron takes the bait and his friend gets him drunk and abandons him in the center of town dressed in his bloodhound costume. It turns out that the townspeople are charmed by the Baron’s emulation of this noble breed and they all invite him in for coffee and bundt cake.

Don Giowimsi

A handsome Hound compulsively captivates a series of women and then abandons them for other women proffering even tastier treats. Asked to repent of this behavior, Don Giowimsi tells them not to be ridiculous. He’s a Hound.


I am sure that my operas would be such a great success that eventually someone would let me pee on that tree in Lincoln Center. Anyway, what week would be complete without yet another visit to the vet (ear cleaning, anal gland maintenance, funny lump biopsied ((turns out to be type of zit)), etc. etc. And this time, not only did I charm and amaze the staff with my animal magnetism but I stunned them with my lack of stink. But never fear, by the time my next visit rolls around I am sure the condition will have been remedied and nose plugs will no longer be optional.

Well I think that’s all for this week. I’ll have an update next week on my success with those rows of Christmas trees. And naturally the Christmas season brings with it an influx of tourists so I am sure this week there will be a surfeit of peace on earth and good will towards Hounds. Just hope they come bearing food.

Until next time,

Wimsey, Il Houndo Magnifico