October 22, 2010
Hello Everyone, Wimsey here--at last--coming to you once again from the autumnal precincts of Manhattan's Upper West Side where there is a nip in the air (better than one in the tush!) and the wafting tang of a seriously bored Hound on the ground. So why am I bored you ask? Well, owing to a touch of lameness in a rear leg my human Maria has exiled me to the apartment of her friend Elizabeth in order to deny me the joys of zooming up and down her five flights of stairs. And to make matters worse, I am on "restricted exercise" which in my case means my humans struggle to keep each of my walks under an hour and I struggle to make sure they go as far over an hour as possible. An hour walk is a travesty and a gross violation of The Hound Bill of Rights, Article Two of which reads "Humans shall make no plans which abridge or interfere with a Hound's right to walk until such time as he is no longer in the mood to walk." And of course I am never in a mood not to walk. (Article One by the way reads "Humans are prohibited from any activity that thwarts, impedes, prevents, retards, hinders, restricts, delays or in any way interferes with a course of action that a Hound has determined is essential for his life, liberty and pursuit of happiness, without exceptions even for the stealing of Sunday roasts, Fendi purses, or used feminine hygiene products).
But I digress. So at Elizabeth's my range has been restricted to Riverside Park and its environs all of which has become deadly dull--I mean all the trees, bushes, waste bins, piles of leaves and bench legs already smell like me and Elizabeth greatly fears I will soon have recourse to people's legs. Accordingly we have been exploring the new southern part of the park created as part of Donald Trump's row of pricey apartment buildings lining the Hudson, leading me to discover that whatever else The Donald's faults (unusual hair, a big ego, a fixation with beauty pageants,love of large signs in gold with his name on them, etc) his buildings make for some excellent marking opportunities. And the doormen at these buildings seem quite excited by the presence of so majestic a Hound as myself in their midst. One keeps asking if I can find his ex-wife, which I find puzzling as it was my understanding that the desire not to be found is generally a well developed characteristic amongst ex-husbands.
Of course at Elizabeth's all the building attendants are terrified of me as they have a persistent belief, despite Elizabeth's explanations to the contrary, that my gentle leader is really a muzzle. Now as much as I object to wearing the gentle leader when entering and exiting the building, it is almost worth it for the street cred and the respect with which I am viewed. Instead of "He's so cute!" it's all "Whoah, there's Wimsey. You don't want to mess with him dude!" And the fact that I like to hunt the neighbor's little doodle Teddy doesn't hurt any either.
But with respect to my leg, on Monday I was Pet Chauffeured down to New York Vet Specialists for an orthopedic consult where Elizabeth forked over $800 for a much admired picture of my perfectly pristine left rear knee and a diagnosis of "He did something to his rear left leg. Keep him off the stairs for a month." And so another entry has been added to the ever expanding Wimsey Book of Expensive, Inconvenient and Inconsequential Ailments.
Well for Elizabeth the idea of living with me for an entire month caused her to immediately hit the gin bottle and caused Maria to immediately hit the real estate ads (it turns out that Maria actually likes living with me--one of those enduring mysteries of human nature I expect. That or else someone dropped her on her head when she was a baby). So a giant shout out to Paul Rovinsky of Citi-Habitats, The Official Wimsey Real Estate Broker for his help in finding me a new place to live that does not involve stairs. I thank him, Maria thanks him and Elizabeth's liver thanks him. Anyway, the new place is only a couple of blocks away from Elizabeth and has a small, shared garden in which there is a cat whose acquaintance I am looking forward to making (it will make a change from hunting little Teddy).
So the ladies are all in a tizzy of getting the place ready--lots to repair and do, etc. to make the place comfortable for me and of course there is a special urgency on the part of Elizabeth who is apparently not a fan of being greeted every morning by my face in her face and eating her meals enveloped in the noxious emissions produced by mine.
And then there was and is the migration from a PC to a Mac which has not so far been all that successful. Some programs are not happy about running on a Mac and the migration software spewed documents and photos randomly in various locations. Hence, a short post today and perhaps for the next several weeks while real estate, both virtual and actual get sorted out.
But on the good news front, Baying Hound Aleworks (or Wimsey Beer as I like to think of it since my exquisite face is on the label) has received its first orders. As the business grows I will be updating you as to where you can obtain this excellent brew and even if you don't like beer it is worth buying it just to admire the label. Currently it will soon be found at the Royal Mile Pub in Silver Spring Maryland and at Roots Organic Market in Olney, Maryland.
Well that is all for now. I hope to be back in form over the next few weeks and telling tales and posting pics from my new crib. So be patient and watch this space.
Until next time,
Wimsey, the Trump of Hounds