Wimsey's Blog:Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #148

Entry #148
December 11, 2009

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from the newly frigid precincts of New York’s Upper West Side where we are finally getting some fine winter weather. My human Maria and her friend Elizabeth are extensively suiting up for winter Hounding activities and this year I get to join them in my new Ruff Wear fleece coat. And as it turns out it was rather nice that I was wearing it today.

Now the afternoon started out OK—Elizabeth came over at noon to pick me up for my midday park perambulation (perambulating being a highly desirable Hound activity, right up there with goosing and drool flinging) but then, disaster struck: her cell phone rang! Well after that call she made another and then, I thought, “finally, time for my walk”. But no! It was in fact time for ear cleaning, eye washing and tooth brushing (although I have to admit, even though it is not in my nature to be cooperative about anything, I am quite partial to having my teeth brushed with peanut butter tooth paste). Well after much running around and throwing myself on the ground and generally acting like the drama king my humans accuse me of being, it actually was time for my walk: collar with tags-check, prong collar-check, nylon slip safety collar in case the prong opens-check, gentle leader to impede my hurtling down the stairs faster than a speeding bullet—check, Ruff Wear fleece coat-NOOOO! Definitely not check!

Now my humans disagree on the need for this particular piece of apparel—Maria being of the sensible persuasion that I am a rugged fellow, perfectly adapted for all weathers and Elizabeth believing that any dog with a sissy name like Wimsey needs a coat at the slightest drop of the mercury. Also the coat is pay back for not letting her read the newspapers, not letting her talk on the phone, not letting her eat lunch without my big nose in the food, not letting her go to the bathroom unattended, not letting her work on the computer, not letting her come in from the park in under two hours, not letting her have a life, and so forth. And also the fact that yesterday I lay on top of her feet snoring in a loud and distracting manner while she was trying to concentrate on a conference call.

Anyway, when Elizabeth finally got me into this coat thing I flew down the stairs hoping to out run it, but to be honest I did think I looked rather eye catching and the coat did keep out the fierce wind. Well just as we entered Riverside Park for the Friday down- by- the- river- tow, we were stopped by these people from pawnation.com who were no doubt taken by the sight of me in my new coat, as yet un drooled on, unmuddied and unstinky, asked to interview me for a segment that will be up sometime in the New Year. The best thing about the interview was when they asked Elizabeth what the smartest thing that I do is and she drew a complete blank--smart and bloodhound not being words generally used in the same sentence. And I will admit, I had my mind more on finding the ideal piece of real estate upon which to poop (having to make room for my après tow lunch) than on cooperating with the camera. So I suspect, just like the Cynthia Rowley ad I was supposed to be in, I will end up on the cutting room floor. But considering that my afternoon started with cell phone calls and ear cleaning this was a decided improvement. It’s just like that other mentally challenged fellow, Forrest Gump said, life is like a box of chocolates, you never know which one you’ll steal.

Well we’ve had a very pleasant week here and on Sunday we met this little puppy. You’ll never guess what she’s called. Alpha! Isn’t that a super name? (Can’t wait until she goes to obedience class and is introduced to the instructor. Just hope her human’s name isn’t Omega). I wish I were called that. It would be such a descriptive name, like being called largesmellytheivinghound. Personally I hope she grows into her name.

And of course Christmas in the city is such a festive time of the year and it would be perfect were it not for all these tempting rows of trees. That and the fact that there has been some discussion of a pair of antlers for me. And just when I was starting to recover from the Disney themed hats. And this week, too, I had my very own Christmas Miracle—I went to the vet’s (my home away from home) and no one stuck anything up my bottom! And then my humans had their own Christmas Miracle-- the bill was only $45! They were in shock. I guess sticking things up my rear costs extra.

And the Christmas Miracle at the vet’s got me thinking a lot more about my spiritual life. As many of you know I am a disciple of Houndism, one of the world’s great philosophical creeds and one that is often badly misunderstood by humans. So I thought I’d provide a little clarification:

Major Tenets of Houndism

Thou shalt steal

Thou shalt covet all things belonging to humans, especially those things that cost a lot of money or would be inconvenient for them to lose

Thou shalt not kill the cat, chasing it is more fun

Thou shalt shed

Thou shalt dig large holes

Thou shalt not heel

Thou shalt nap on the furniture upon which others want to sit

Thou shalt drool

Thou shalt poke people in the fanny with thine large and cold nose

Thou shalt runneth up gargantuan vet bills

Thou shalt bay

Thou shalt not behave

Thou shalt not comprehendeth the words spoketh by humans, particularly the words “no” and “give that back.”

Thou shall emit large clouds of gas when people are trying to eat

Thou shalt not work

Thou shalt not allow others to work

Thou shalt get filthy right after thine bath

Thou shalt not permit thine nails to be cut

Thou shalt love thyself

Thou shalt not love others, as it is their job to love you

Thou shalt always look cute regardless of the amount of havoc thou hast wrought


These are of course just some of the basics. Being on a Houndist path involves a daily inward search to add to and refine the elements of the creed. Like my getting annoyed when it started to rain this week and causing Maria to pull her hamstring (again) in my haste to return home. Achieving perfection as a Hound is a rigorous goal requiring constant deep reflection and many belly rubs.

Well on one of those rainy days this week, Elizabeth and I happened to be passing the Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park and finding it for once devoid of climbing young’uns I moved in for a closer inspection. I really like the story and think I will write my own version.

Wimsey in Wonderland

Once upon a time a giant Hound is running away with a pocket watch he has just stolen when he gets distracted by the appearance of a tasty-looking White Rabbit. The Hound then digs a hole to trap the rabbit and they both fall down into it. Once down the hole the Hound finds a piece of cake with an invitation to eat it, which gives him a great sugar rush and makes him really frisky. So the Hound digs further and discovers a magical realm where he is invited to a Tea Party and all the food is cooked especially for him. Someone suggests he try some Mushrooms but he’s heard they can really mess up your head so opts for some roast chicken instead. And then he gets to run around a beautiful 800 acre garden for hours on end, peeing on all the carefully tended vegetation before taking a nap on a large, cushy bed.

When he wakes up he finds that a Duchess is giving him a belly rub and he is presented with a new toy in the shape of a Caterpillar. He and the Duchess go back out to the garden where the Hound gets to chase some Dormice and then meets the Cheshire Squirrel who teases him with his bushy tail and then disappears only to reappear sitting in a tree. The Hound vows to wipe the smile off the Cheshire Squirrel’s face one of these days. Then they meet the Queen of Hearts who is always cheesed off about something-- usually something to do with the Hound, like having a dislocated shoulder or having to wear layers of ugly bulky smelly clothes. The Queen of Hearts threatens the Hound with bodily harm for one or another of his many transgressions (only it’s not his head she threatens to take off) but as usual he is defended by the Duchess who proclaims that he is perfect in every way except when he shoves her off the bed, emits gas, tries to eat her food, flings drool in her face, French kisses her, gets her nice clothing muddy, depletes her bank balance, whacks her with his paw, sheds all over the carpet, makes her go out in inclement weather, gallops down the stairs or eats the mail.

Then both ladies commiserate about not having a handsome Knave of Hearts to date but they agree that Knaves of Hearts generally prefer Tarts rather than smelly, disheveled women accompanied by a disruptive, baying bloodhound. Next, lots of people from around the garden gather to admire the Hound and to take photos of him and then feed him their lunches. The Hound wonders when he will wake up from this dream but then realizes that he’s never been asleep. The End.


Isn’t that a charming story! Or maybe it’s a cautionary tale. Well I think that is about all for this week. Now that we have cold weather the only thing missing is snow and the death defying process of trying to walk me in it. And I must take time this week to make out my Christmas list. It should be pretty simple as I am the only one on it.

Until next time,

Wimsey, antlers not included