Entry # 184
September 17, 2010
Hello Everyone. It’s me, Wimsey, coming to you from the now miraculously and suddenly autumnal Upper West Side of Manhattan where I am already anticipating the arrival of the Fall Friskies. Just a tad cooler and all bets are off as far as my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth’s chances of retaining intact shoulders are concerned. But for now, I can only sniff the air, tow a bit harder and wait for the crisp autumn days that, much to everyone’s surprise, seem imminent. We all thought given what a wretchedly hot summer we had that we would have the same experience as last year when summer just refused to go away until it was suddenly time for the down jackets.
Well this has been an extremely dull week (insofar as any week that includes me can be considered dull)—I had a professional walker Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday because Elizabeth was too busy to look after me, which I consider perfidy of the highest order. It also meant that I actually had to spend all my time in my apartment instead of messing up hers and was not around to distract her from the pointless work she always seems to be doing. From monopolizing her kitchen floor so she has to execute acrobatic maneuvers to make an invigorating post walk cup of tea or coffee to spreading somnolence-inducing napping Hound scent (accompanied by gentle snores) to make her eyes droop in front of her computer, I am a non-stop pain the tush (and I don’t even have to move to be disruptive!). I know I was sadly missed.
Anyway, I did get to have a lovely 4 hour walk in Central Park this Sunday and the rain held off for almost 
all of it. In addition to the us
ual assortment of Wimsey admirers and picture takers, we ran into our friend Nancy—the result of which meeting can be seen in this deligh
tful scratching montage. And it was 
followed by the Ritual Feeding of the Ritz Crackers which is a perfect coda to a vigorous round of belly rubbing. Of course since Nancy and her food are strongly associated with a stroller containing a small child I
now feel compelled to investigate all such strollers of a similar description, apparently causing much consternation amongst the maternal population of Central Park and adding yet another thing my humans have to be on the alert for.
Meeting Nancy was fun, but even more fun was the fellow who stopped Maria and asked if she knew of a vet in the neighborhood and whether said vet could tell if a dog was fixed. Maria logically assumed that he meant a female dog, but he said no, it was a male! Maria was able to inform him that if the dog were fixed it would be missing its testicles, pointing to my impressive tackle for illustrative purposes. It is rather amusing how frequently testicles and discussions thereof seem to crop up in my humans’ lives, especially considering how personally deficient they are in that area. Testicles loom rather large in their lives, one might say, especially as they are mine.
And speaking yet again of tes
ticles (I am going for the Guinness Book of records for the most mention of the word testicles in a non-pornographic blog post) there has been a project afoot to collect my seed in order to ensure that the world is never lacking in Wimseys. We actually had an appointment last Saturday with a mobile collections van at a dog show in New Jersey but our appointment was cancelled owing to mechanical difficulties with the van. Our next attempt is scheduled for October 16th and given the expense involved in renting a car in New York City plus all the fees that are charged plus the fact that I am Wimsey, the ladies are convinced that I will simply refuse to be a party to the activity. The human who has my sister would be sorely disappointed as apparently she also wants a Wimsey—she has my nephew too who is a chip off the bad old block but that is still is not enough for her. Bloodhounds are perhaps the only dog whose humans compete on the basis of whose animal is worse. And the more bad bloodhounds, seemingly the better. I propose that there be a special bloodhound dog show that is unrelated to just our great beauty and captures the true spirit of the breed:
Wimsey’s First Annual “How Bad is Your Bloodhound” Dog Show
Dogs will be 
scored on the criteria that best defines that bloodhound breed:
Attitude:
OK, I will get off the couch (0 points)
OK you may occupy part of my couch (2 points)
OK you can occupy the couch as long as I use you as a pillow (5 points)
OK you can occupy the couch as long as I use you as a pillow and you rub my belly (7 points)
The floor is better for your back (10 points)
Style points are awarded for the chewing of remote controls, couch cushions, and blocking a human’s view of anything but your head)
Obedience
Comes when called (0 points)
Comes when called for a cookie (2 points)
Comes when called for a piece of stinky liver (5 points)
Bays when called instead of co
ming (7 points)
Walks swiftly in the opposite direction when called (10 points)
Style points awarded for drool flinging, assiduously washing one’s privates, or staring blankly when commands are issued
Destructive Ability
Rips up toys (0 points)
Rips up books, magazines, newspapers and mail (2 points)
Shreds entire contents of the laundry bin 
(5 points)
Eats the antique Oriental rug (7 points)
Eats the couch sitting on top of the antique Oriental rug (10 points)
As destructiveness is a bloodhound specialty many awards of merit are offered in this category including:
Best achievement in creative gardening
Best clothing design based on an existing garment
Best achievement in the linen closet
Best leather work
Best creation of mattress holes
In fact there are almost as many awards of merit as there are human possessions, which virtually assures that everyone goes home a winner!
In addition, style points are awarded for
looking cute, looking innocent, cutting out the middle man by chewing up paper money or instantly repeating the behavior for which one has just been reprimanded.
Annoying behavior
Flinging drool (0 points)
Flinging drool on important people wearing light colored clothing (2 points)
French kissing after washing one’s under carriage (2 points)
Trying to climb into cars (2 points)
Trying to drive cars (5 points)
Tidying up one’s muzzle after food and/or water on human clothing (2 points)
Tidying up one’s muzzle on human faces in the middle of the night (5 points)
Goosing people on the street (5 points)
Releasing gas in people’s faces (5 points)
Being a Hound (10 points)
Style points are awarded for behaviors accompanied by vociferous baying and for gaseous emissions during mealtimes.
Culinary Skills
Counter surfing (1 point)
Stealing stuff out of the fridge (2 points)
Stealing stuff before it ever makes it into the fridge (3 points)
Rendering the kitchen inoperable by napping in the middle of the floor (3 points)
Contributing flavorful drool to cooking food (3 points)
Taking candy from a baby (3 points)
Stealing the food off a dinner guest’s plate (5 points)
Stealing the food off a customer’s plate at an outdoor café (10 points)
Style points awarded for large items consumed with seemingly impossible speed
Leash manners
Heeling (0 points)*
Pulling (2 points) 
Towing (3 points)
Towing in the opposite direction to the one your human is going (5 points)
Tractoring (10 points)
Wrenching your human’s shoulder (3 points)
Dislocating your human’s shoulder (5 points)
Pulling your human over (10 points)
* to most bloodhounds this word means chewing the stilettos off of the new Jimmy Choos
Style points are awarded for tractor pulling your human into park snack concessions, pizza parlors or gelato shops. Bonus points awarded if there are people laughing at your human. Additional style points awarded for pulling your human over and then dragging t
hem.
I think everyone who owns a bloodhound (and quite a few people who own regular Hounds—beagles and bassets you know who you are) could potentially have a top show dog. And remember: there are no bad bloodhounds, only regular bloodhounds. To know us is to love us (and to have a large bank balance).
But in spite of being largely abandoned, this week was not a total loss—on Saturday I discovered that I had a rather fascinating neighbor—someone at the American Museum of Natural History has a large and amazing smelling tortoise that they took out for some air on the side lawn. A crowd was gathered at the lawn and I towed Maria over, my nose in overdrive. At first she didn’t see anything (humans being woefully deficient in olfactory powers) and then she saw the lawn move—and it was the magnificent tortoise! Well I had never smelled anything like it before and Maria thought my nose would explode with al
l the activity. But just when I had devised a plan for getting to know this tortoise better its human put him back into a carrying crate and returned him to the museum. The crowd dispersed but I stood mesmerized by the lingering scent. Of course this is New York where people are blasé about the strangest sights, tortoises included, so it was my arrival that created the stir—everyone turned and it was all “Look at the bloodhound!” I guess I am just as rare as a tortoise and whole lot cuter.
Well anyway, as you might imagine I am a rather well known and notorious fellow about town and the other day someone stopped Maria and asked her if I was the dog that steals water bottles. Of c
ourse I am also
the dog that makes all that racket
the dog that flings the great gobs of disgusting drool in people’s faces
the dog that makes smells
the dog that steals the branches out of the park truck that is collecting them
the dog that has peed on every plant in Central Park
the dog that tries to climb into people’s cars
the dog that kicks dirt into people’s faces
the dog that pokes his head into people’s shopping bags
the dog that everyone thinks is so cute, including my humans, except when they want to kill me
Well I think that is all for this week. We should have a beautiful weekend here and I am looking forward to some serious park time and to further burnishing my local reputation.
Until next time,
Wimsey, a champion bloodhound in all respects
TV are actually smiling).
ktoberfest. And this October is even more special because our friend Paul has finally launched Baying Hound Aleworks (www.baying-hound.com) and I have been channeling my inner Don Draper to come up with a promotional campaign for him. Of course all my adverts feature me and I am sure customers will want to know if I come with the beer. (Or perhaps to make sure that I don’t come with the beer). There is nothing quite as splendid as drinking a finely crafted brew with a finely crafted Hound dipping his finely crafted nose into the glass—the pleasure of the experience is one to which my humans can readily attest.
eather Sunday remained dry and I achieved a masterstroke of strategy in delaying our exit from the park when I decided that it was imperative for me to individually greet a large group of visitors. The ladies could hardly pull me away without looking incorrigibly Cruella Devil-ish—and then I found it equally imperative to lie down and observe their activities, much to everyone’s amusement except my humans. I have more ways to delay leaving the park than my humans have neurons.
This is me in front of the Harlem Meer at the very apex of Central Park's 858 acres (otherwise known as my back yard). Notice the fowl swimming in the background--the Meer has ducks, geese and swans with whom I am always trying to get better acquainted, much to the detriment of my humans' shoulders.
Right at the beginning of Sunday's walk I found this amazing stick on the street that just had to be chewed. The ladies had to stand around and wait for this feat to be accomplished whilst passersby stopped to admire my handiwork.
