March 11, 2011
Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from a very soggy, waterlogged, moist and otherwise just plain wet Upper West Side of Manhattan. Fortunately I do not mind the rain so much (apart from having to don yet another ridiculous non-Hound colored piece of apparel) as the more it rains the less likely I am to be bathed. And of course the moisture merely enhances my fine Houndy aroma which so delights the olfactory senses (limited though they might be) of my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth whose abodes I perfume.
But it is all part of the service. And this week my services included making a birthday appearance at an Upper West Side bistro to honor a friend of Elizabeth’s who was eating with her family. Although I was not actually allowed in owing to some ridiculous health regulations and the disinclination of most diners to find drool and Hound hair in their food I did display myself to fine advantage outside the large windows causing non-birthday diners to point and wave. Nevertheless the birthday friend and her daughter slipped out through an emergency exit that they were not supposed to use (we Hounds encourage bad and disobedient behavior across species lines) and were rewarded with a goodly amount of birthday slime.
And also of note this week, Elizabeth chose to leave me alone for a few hours thus depriving me of the pleasure of having her watch me take my afternoon nap—an activity that is crucial to my full somnolescent enjoyment. So I ate some of her books. (I particularly enjoyed “How to Teach Physics to Your Dog”) because I don’t believe dogs should be taught anything, physics or otherwise. It probably would have been more practical for her to have acquired a tome entitled “How to Teach Your Dog
Not to Eat Your Books.” (But really I am an excellent teacher of physics—my all time favorite equation being the fabulous k2 which purports to measure kinetic energy but really measures the amount of damage I will do to you when I body slam you or take off when you are holding a loose leash).
But ironically I elected to execute my literary escapade after Elizabeth proudly explained to some Biscuits and Bath employees that the extensive amount of outdoor exercise I get curbs my destructive tendencies. Pride goeth before the mound of masticated books. I don’t think she’ll be giving that speech any time soon.
Anyway this made me think that instead of the Wimsey app my humans are working on they should instead develop the Angry Hound app which would make those angry birds look pretty tame:
Wimsey’s Angry Hound App
Level One: Trying to make the Hound leave the Park
Angry Hound pulls you into pile of rotting leaves (fall)
Angry Hound pulls you into yellow snow bank (winter)
Angry Hound pulls you into pool of smelly mud (spring)
Angry Hound pulls you into duck pond (summer—acquisition of duck scores extra points)
Angry Hound dislocates your arm treeing juicy raccoon
Angry Hound humiliates you by stealing water bottles from tourists
Angry Hound humiliates you by helping himself to people’s picnics
Angry Hound drags you to snack shops and forces you to buy him a sandwich
Angry Hound whines pathetically and pedestrians throw things at you because you are being so mean to your Hound.
Bonus round: Angry Hound flings drool on jogging celebrity wearing light colored clothing.
Level Two: leaving the Hound indoors alone
Angry Hound obtains snack (otherwise known as your dinner) from refrigerator
Angry Hound eats couch
Angry Hound distributes feathers from ripped up pillows making home look like assorted poultry had unfortunate accident (extra points if an actual chicken is involved)
Angry Hound identifies your most prized possession and eats it but leaves the pieces where you can find them
Angry Hound identifies your most expensive possession and mangles it just enough for it to be unusable.
Angry Hound looks as if the mayhem he caused had nothing to do with him whilst you clean up the mess.
Bonus round: Angry Hound uses chair to reach bag of treats, eats them all then vomits all over the Oriental carpet.
Level Three: Leaving the Hound outdoors alone
Angry Hound bays until neighbors call the police.
Angry Hound digs under the fence and escapes causing extensive countywide Hound Hunt.
Angry Escaped Hound digs up neighbor’s expensive ornamental shrubs and strews garbage from their bin all over their front lawn.
Angry Escaped Hound trees neighbor’s cat necessitating call to the fire department.
Angry Hound helpfully weeds garden using extremely liberal definition of weeds.
Angry Hound digs sufficient holes to make neighbors suspect that site is being used for bombing runs.
Bonus round: Angry Hound leaves hidden excretory piles for you to step in whilst you are cleaning up the rest of his messes.
And is it any wonder that Elizabeth has to spend an inordinate amount of time this week explaining to people why, in spite of the fact that I am very cute, they don’t want one of me. She’s thinking of ordering a tee shirt for the summer that says: You Don’t Want One. However, we did meet one Hound savvy lady today who asked if my humans locked up their possessions in airtight containers.
Anyway, during one of my many walks I noticed a car with a pink paw print decal that read “Princess on Board.” That got me thinking what kind of automotive decal would be appropriate for me:
Wimsey’s Automotive Decals
Ridiculous Hound on Board
Insanely Huge Ridiculous Hound on Board
Hound With Huge Head in Rear View Mirror on Board
Hound With Huge Head in Rear View Mirror and Huge Body Blocking Rear Window on Board
Hound who thinks the GPS is a snack on Board
Hound who requires giant gas guzzling SUV to haul around all his stuff on Board
Hound Chewing on Seat Belt on Board
Hound Baying and Terrorizing People at Gas Stations on Board
Hound Learning to Drive on Board
Hound Drooling Down Driver’s Neck on Board
Hound Using Driver’s Shoulder for a Chin rest on Board
But really the decal should read, “It’s A good thing he’s Cute Otherwise There’d Be a Dead Hound on Board.
Appearances are deceptive so although it often looks as though I am out for a pleasant stroll with my humans, in reality I am towing them point to point either between refreshment stands and snack shops in the park or between neighborhood pet stores on the street. (What can I say, I am a shopaholic with the munchies). Trying to dissuade me from these appointed rounds requires the upper body strength of a young Arnold Schwarzenegger and the urge to win of an Olympic athlete. So when in the midst of these incessant battle of wills the hundredth person comments on how attractive and well behaved I am my humans contemplate throwing themselves off the George Washington Bridge. (but then they remember that is time for some or other service they must render me and desist).
And speaking of battles of wills here is the latest:
Things I will eat:
Anything on my humans’ plate
Discarded food on the sidewalk
Treats they give me in the pet stores
Things I will not eat:
So I don’t see the problem?
I have been rather hungry as of late owing to the mounds of kibble I leave over and my humans have noticed that my tongue has acquired a disturbing frog like propensity for rapid alimentary sampling (and in a variation of the age old “you break it you buy it” I have discovered that “you lick it you eat it” is equally operational). So it’s all good—I’ve acquired a new skill and they’ve acquired better reflexes.
Finally I would be remiss if I did not take note of important upcoming holidays: March 15th is the Ides of March when ones has to beware of Hounds with a lean and hungry look (and a fast tongue) and of course the 17th is St. Patrick’s Day when all New York celebrates (and if you are in the Washington D.C. area I hope you’ll lift a fine glass of my beer from Baying Hound Aleworks. I’m told that my fame is spreading outside of New York City as my baying head logo is becoming recognizable in other geographic locales). And I just might be induced this year to sport my green sequined cravat in honor of the occasion. Then we roll right on into March 19th and my birthday which is always a fun day and promises a nice cup of Grom Gelato at the very least.
So until next time, watch your back (and your food) during the Ides and have some St. Patty’s Day fun.
Wimsey, a Hound of impeccable taste