Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #206

Entry # 206

March 25, 2011

Hello everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where we have been having foul weather and fair in equal measure and some spring defying chilly temperatures. All these climactic challenges have put a strain on my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth who always seem to be overdressed or underdressed and the daily complaint about layer count or lack thereof becomes a thing of high drama. You would have thought that the fate of

small nations depended upon them being comfortable but the reality is that no one cares-- especially not me. Fortunately as a Hound my coat serves for a wide range of weather conditions-- although my raincoat has been making a bit of an appearance lately. My coat (the natural one, not the raincoat) has some interesting properties too, which like all things Hound continues to bedevil my humans. They sometimes wonder about the strange laws of the Hound:

Laws of the Hound

Submitted for your approval:

A Hound who has been in the rain never seems to get dry but a Hound who has been in the bathtub never seems to get wet.

Humans who wear dark clothes display light colored Hound hairs but humans who wear light clothes display dark colored Hound hairs. (This leads to the hypothesis that Hounds have color-directed smart hairs which would be the only smart things about us).

The degree to which a Hound stinks is directly proportional to how little time you have in your schedule to bath him.

Bathing a Hound causes an extended period of inclement and muddy weather.

Taking the Hound to the vet immediately cures him of whatever condition it was that led you to make the appointment in the first place.

Part of whatever a Hound has eaten in the last 24 hours will find its way under your bed sheets.

The presence of humans in expensive (preferably designer), light colored clothing dramatically increases the salivary rate of the Hound.

Your need to use the toilet is directly proportional to a Hound’s need to observe you using the toilet.

The more expensive the toy the faster the Hound will destroy it.

The more slippery the conditions the harder the Hound will pull.

The nicer the clothes you are wearing the more affectionate the Hound will be.

The more tired you are the louder the Hound will snore

The worse the weather the longer it will take the Hound to find a spot to poop

The more attractive the plant the greater a Hound’s desire to dig it up or use it as a toilet.

The more you earn the more the Hound will spend.

And of course none of this takes into account our telepathic ability that lets us know when you are about to go into the kitchen to fix something to eat (leading us to be omnipresent) or when you are instead about to undertake some cruel and unusual activity such as cleaning our ears (leading us to be Omni absent). Of course I am an especially talented Hound so in addition to finding kibble under her sheets Elizabeth also finds it in her refrigerator. What can I say—Kibble: It’s Everywhere I Want To Be. Now that’s a catchy slogan. I am sure that I can think of a few more of those:

Wimsey’s Advertising Slogans

Diamonds Are Forever and So Are My Walks

Just Do It. I Know I Always Do No Matter How Much You Try to Stop Me

Tastes Great, Less Filing So I Can Steal and Gobble Even More of It

We Try Harder Than Other Breeds to Put You in the Hospital

Good to the Last Drop and All You Have to Do is Flush to Get More

Breakfast Of Champions but Dinner of Wimps Whose Hound Stole Their Dinner

Does She or Doesn’t She Worship Her Hound. She Does.

When It Rains It Pours and When It Pours Your Home Will Smell Like a Disgusting Wet Hound

Where’s the Beef, I Only See Vile Kibble in My Bowl

Look Ma, No Cavities Just Giant Holes Where the Flower Beds Used To Be

Hounds, Like GE, We Bring Expensive Things to Life

Reach Out and Rub My Belly

Think Different (like without adverbs for instance) Before Trying to Enroll Me In That Obedience Class

Snap, Crackle Pop and The Remote is Gone Just Like That

Because I’m Worth It and You’re Not

When It Absolutely Positively Has To Be There Overnight Don’t Let Me Near It

Hello Moto. Goodbye Moto. You Were Delicious

I’m Everywhere You Don’t Want Me To Be

I Make Money the Old Fashioned Way, I Send You Out to Work

How Do You Spell Relief? C-R-A-T-E

The Ultimate Towing Machine

This Drool’s For You

I Love to be Annoying and It Shows

Let Your Fingers Do the Walking, Your Feet Certainly Won’t Be Able To When I’m Done Towing You Through the Park

Your Bucket of KFC Was Flew Lickin’ Good

A Different Kind of Company, A Different Kind of Car. But Sadly the Same Upholstery Eating Hound

Frosted Flakes May Be Grrrrreat but Hounds are Terrrrrible

It’s Miller (Tanqueray) Time

Between Love and Madness There Is a Hound

Foster’s: Australian for Beer. Wimsey: American for ‘Oh No!”

Nothing Runs Like A Deere Except a Human Chasing A Hound Who Has Just Stolen A Used Sanitary Napkin

Really I think I could give that Don Draper fellow in Mad Men a run for his money—I too am handsome, like to eat rare steak, and goose women, take naps during the day on my couch and appear to do very little work whilst enjoying a luxurious lifestyle. Sterling, Cooper and Wimsey has a nice ring to it.

Anyway, as many of you know, March 19^th was my birthday which meant a celebratory weekend around here. On Saturday I was given a couple of pieces of Dean’s pizza (my favorite) for dinner and then on Sunday we had a fine walk in Central Park where many people wished me a happy birthday, scratched me and took my picture. We then all went shopping on Broadway—I love shopping but sadly my shopaholic efforts to tow my humans to the nearest pet store were resisted. But as compensation I was invited into the

waiting area at Bed Bath & Beyond by a Hound- loving security guard and met some really nice people (i.e. people who are interested in me) and was holding court while Maria finished her shopping. And so it went all up and down Broadway—a regular Wimsey Admiration Fest it was.

But we finally arrived at our most important destination, Grom Gelato. Now you have heard me speak many times about the excellent nature of this gelato and its superiority to mere ice cream (which I will eat, but not nearly with the same gusto). But nothing in life is perfect and the lines at Grom tend to be long and the service tends to be slow, both of which make me quite impatient. And when I am impatient I like to think that a bout of loud, extended baying is a good way to hurry things along. So whilst Elizabeth was waiting in line to buy me my cup of gelato I regaled the surrounding neighborhood with my vocal stylings. The man waiting next to Elizabeth was under the misguided impression that my vocalizations were in aid of getting her to come back to me (and probably they would have been were I a regular dog short a human). But she quickly disabused him of the notion. “No”, she sighed, “he doesn’t care about me. He wants his gelato.

Well really, there is nothing quite as delicious and satisfying and attention getting as being spoon fed Grom Gelato. My delicate eating style is much admired and I am sure that the large pool of gelato infused drool that I produce is a fine testament to the desirable nature of the product. I am sure it makes passersby want to race right in and buy some for themselves. Perhaps I could expand my career as a spokes Hound. I already serve in that capacity for Baying Hound Aleworks (www.baying-hound.com --I would like to say that there’s a little of me in every bottle but I don’t think the owner of the brewery or the Board of Health would appreciate the sentiment). Perhaps I could do a stint with Grom Gelato also. I mean I could bring a whole new intensity to the phrase “mouth watering."

Well another week, another kibble. The latest attempt to satisfy the demanding Wimsey palate and the delicate Wimsey intestines was contributed by our good friends of The Thundering Herd (www.thethunderingherd.com) whose favorite kibble, Holistic Select Anchovy I am now sampling. So far it does seem to be less repugnant than the others, but then again it is being garnished with grated imported Pecorino Romano and assorted add-ins. The best thing about it, however, is that it lends a delightfully fishy air to both my humans’ apartments so it is probably a keeper on those grounds alone.

Anyway, I think I will leave it there for the week—I mean it’s been a whole few hours since I last annoyed whichever human I happen to be around so they are way overdue.

Until next time,

Wimsey, looks like a Hound, smells like a fish