May 14, 2010
Hello everyone, it’s me Wimsey, one of America’s foremost stinky bloodhounds, coming to you from some piece of furniture off of which I have shoved my resident human on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. (Being 130 lbs has its privileges and one of them is my superior shoving ability. Also my ability to cause an assortment of miscellaneous bruises and sprains, the exact nature of which my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth have given up trying to ascertain the origin of).
And speaking of origins, it says in the news that humans carry the DNA of those beetle browed Neanderthals that people always look down upon as being not too bright. Why is it that I am not surprised that humans have dumb DNA. And the Neanderthals, like their human counterparts also lacked the genes coding for the intellectually and aesthetically superior pointy head with which we Hounds are superiorly endowed. The tendency of humans to caparison themselves in all manner of pointy headed gear throughout the ages or depicting clever wizards with pointy caps does not make up for the fact that underneath them there resides an intellectually dull, round human skull.
But I digress. We were speaking of the fact that humans are really souped up Neanderthals; however based on my astute observations I believe that it is pure hubris of humans to look down on their Neanderthals brethren. I mean Neanderthals hunted animals for food and humans hunt food (preferably at Grom Gelato) for animals. And I am sure that the building of endless number of portable electronic devices (an important source of roughage in the Hound diet) was not high on the list of tools on the Neanderthal must have list. The deficiency of the modern human is also found in their tendency to spend endless hours staring at flickering boxes as opposed to engaging in more purposeful activity like slaying fearsome beasts. And the Neanderthals would have been puzzled by the human habit of planting things that are nice to look at but terrible to eat (a futile endeavor in any case as they only get repeatedly dug up by the family Hound). Of course it was probably a good thing that Neanderthals did not have Hounds as our superior brain power would probably have ensured our dominance. Just like it does for the humans.
Anyway, it has been another fun filled week around here, one that the humans spent in intense contemplation of my posterior digestive opening. They were awaiting the appearance of an ice cream stick I had eaten last Thursday. Always one to disappoint them I deposited the stick, sans poop or vomit, on the rug on Wednesday morning before Elizabeth came to pick me up for the day’s fun and frolic.
So the stick took almost six full days to completely make the tour of my lengthy digestive tract. But while the process was underway the plaintive wails of panic from my humans elicited a most impressive list of items, not strictly edible, ingested by that Hound among Hounds Gus of the North. Gus is a fellow bloodhound who lives in Fairbanks, Alaska where things can get a tad dull until the weather warms up in the summer, so his family entertained themselves by playing a parlor game that consisted of trying to remember all the things Gus had eaten (and survived). They believed (quite rightly) that the length and nature of the list would give my humans comfort about the potentially damaging consequences of swallowing a stick. As a Hound who is always willing to give credit where credit is due, I have reproduced the list for your admiration. Gus’ accomplishment is all the more impressive when you consider that 1) he is only 4 years old, 2) he is never alone so he managed to obtain and consume these items whilst his family was in residence and 3) this list represents the things his family actually know about. So The Wimsey Prize for Extraordinary Achievement by a Digestive Tract goes to: Gus, Fairbanks’ Finest.
Gus’ Prize Winning List of Stolen and Ingested Items
Large chunks of dish towel
A queen sized comforter
Assorted plastic lids
Logs for the fire
Beef rib bones
Whole sticks of butter (including the wrappers)
Vacuum cleaner attachments
Artwork from the walls
Tanned beaver fur
Socks (roughly about 20)
Feminine hygiene products
Dirt from the houseplants
The house plants themselves
The Gentle Leader
And Gus’ latest achievement: the large “18” candle from his humans’ 18th birthday cake (sadly he was prevented from eating the actual cake itself)
Bravo Gus! My ice cream stick is the merest bagatelle by comparison. I salute you.
Well the other news this week is that I had a couple of acupuncture sessions for my neck, complete with yoga mat, candles and new age music to relax me while Elizabeth scratched me and fed me turkey. I like these sessions but never entirely relinquish my suspicion that at any moment someone is going to stick a finger up my bum. I have been assured that fingers up the bum are not part of the acupuncture procedure, but I remain vigilant nevertheless.
And in other news, our friend Paul who visited with his wife Ilonka last week is fixing to become the Beer King of the east coast by launching the Baying Hound Ale Works. He sent me a list of the beers he intends to brew and, as I am ever known for being a creative, out of the laundry bin thinker, he asked for some suggested names for them.
India Pale Ale: I’ve had this one and it’s delicious so I would name it “Maharajah Wimsey’s Let Me Stick My Nose in That Ale” This is definitely a beer that has a big nose and I found adding dollop of drool brings out the delicious flavor of the hops. This is also a beer of which the Indian branch of my family, headed by Sanjay Wimsey wholly approves. Sanjay states that it is an excellent thirst quencher after stealing all those curries.
Hefeweisen:Paul says it is a refreshing wheat beer with citrus, clove, and banana notes. Perfect on a hot day and it goes well with sausage, fish, even a nice hot breakfast like the Germans do. This one I would name “Springtime for Wimsey’s World Domination Wheat Beer (if I smell it, it’s mine)” and it is perfect for those hot days when you’ve been running down the street chasing the Hound who has your panties dangling from his mouth.
Brown Porter: Paul says, it is a dryish porter, not overly bitter, that goes well with meat and even chocolate. I would name this “The Brown Hound’s Steak Stealing Special Brew.” It goes best after you’ve been slaving away to create the perfect romantic meal only to have your date watch your Hound masticate it on the living room floor because you were dumb enough to turn your back on him.
Abbey Style Ale: Paul says this is a dubbel Belgian style ale, perfect with mussels and fries. He is thinking of calling it Saint Hubert’s Abbey Ale after the monks who perfected the bloodhound. Given all the havoc bloodhounds wreak, perhaps it should be called “St. Hubert’s We’re Sorry We Had No Idea What We Were Doing Reparations Ale.”
Colonial Porter: Paul says this beer is adapted from a recipe originally used by George Washington. It is made with barley, wheat, rye, and molasses. I think ‘Don’t Tread on Me or I’ll Eat Your Guccis” is a catchy title for a beer that harkens back to our liberty loving past and a Hound’s liberty loving present. I am sure my colonial ancestor Josiah Wimsey had his nose in this one quite a bit.
Maryland Common: Paul says he can't use the term "Steam Beer" but that's what it is. The style is also known as a California Common, but since he’s not in California it’s a "Maryland Common" This beer is brewed like an ale but with lager yeasts. He says it’s a great beer just about all year round and goes especially well with grilled foods. I say, Hounds also go well with grilled foods, especially when they are on low lying barbecues. I’d call this one “Wimsey’s Common for Uncommonly Quick Mouthed Hounds.”
Well you get the idea—there are a lot more beers on his list and I am looking forward to sampling them all. Perhaps I’ll even let my humans have a taste.
Anyway, a short post this week. We are all still recovering from the weather swinging between all the seasons except spring. But the prize for the question of the week goes to one of Elizabeth’s neighbors who asked her how she controls me in my new harness. The answer: she doesn’t.
Until next time,
Wimsey, a pointy headed non-Neanderthal, ale swilling Hound
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Posted by Wimsey at 4:09 PM