Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #215

Entry #215

June 10, 2011

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here coming to you once again from the sweltering sidewalks of Manhattan’s Upper West Side where it’s not even summer and my cooling coat has made its dastardly annual reappearance.

For those of you unfamiliar with this garment, it is a reflective coat that is soaked in cool water that gradually evaporates and in theory cools me. Not in theory is the fact that 1) I find it annoying to have to wear clothing in the summer and 2) I find it even more annoying to have to wear wet clothing. The only benefit that I can see (apart from the fact that it does actually keep me cool) is that pedestrians unfamiliar with the garment chew my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth out for making me wear a coat in hot weather. But then my humans explain the purpose of the coat and are rewarded with praise for taking such good care of me. This is extremely annoying since if they were serious about taking good care of me there would be daily visits to Grom Gelato. (Although through dint of extreme cuteness ((and a refusal to move)), I did manage to get the counter lady to pop out and feed me a heaping spoonful of the luscious stuff).

But speaking of taking care of me, Maria has been somewhat dilatory in the matter of getting my apartment air conditioned (delivery is due next week, she promises) so during the intermittent hot spells that we have been experiencing I am exiled to Elizabeth’s where she keeps things delightfully frosty lest I overheat. There is talk of the electric company presenting her with a Lifetime Achievement Award. And so once again I get to practice my patented middle of the night attacks of socialability that seem to possess me right after I’ve had a muzzle drenching drink of water. Add to that morning bed raids, mealtime (hers) gas attacks and just general around the clock peskiness and we have the recipe for the model Hound houseguest. (Did I mention that Elizabeth’s yoga pants are now black and tan colored? Wimsey 1, Hoover 0).

But it is so much nicer to hang out being annoying in the air conditioning than to hang out being annoying in the sweltering park so I have become somewhat resistant to going out if climactic conditions do not meet with my approval. This has caused much concern about my excretory activities but it lends credence to my humans’ theory that my inner volume is comprised almost entirely of bladder and colon. I am like a camel. At least kind of.

Anyway and as we are on the subject of matters relating to my eliminatory functions, I came across an intriguing fact: apparently the most renowned biographer of Captain Cook was a fellow named John Beaglehole. Personally, I think he sounds more like someone who should have been writing a biography of Captain Hook, but to be fair the guy was from New Zealand and I hear the place is riddled with hobbits.

But Beaglehole? I wonder to which hole specifically the name refers—the innumerable holes dug by freedom loving beagles (especially those that lead to liberation from backyard fences)? The front end of the beagle which is a veritable black hole of gustatory acquisitiveness? Or perhaps the beagle’s posterior bit, which given the variety and complexity of the average beagle diet. produces some amazing specimens. Or else, perhaps, it refers to the opening that is the natural enemy of the world’s carpets. But then again, beagles are capable of putting holes in virtually anything so it is probably one of those mysteries that is forever lost to time. But then there is the matter of what this guy’s ancestors had to do to become known as Beagleholes. This makes me think that my humans could use more colorful and descriptive last names:

Potential Last Names for My Humans

Maria Facefullofdrool

Elizabeth Satupon

Maria Thwackee

Elizabeth Bearclawbruises

Maria Iwantedtoeatthat

Elizabeth Thecellphoneisnotedible

Maria Givemethatbra

Elizabeth Thatdoesntbelongtoyou

Maria That’snotyourcar

Elizabeth Sorryaboutthat

Maria Iknowagooddrycleaner

Elizabeth Illgetthegentleleader

Maria Itsmybed

Elizabeth Wheresthatbottleofgin

Maria Smellslikehound

Elizabeth Sitsitsitsitsitsitsit

Maria Muddrool

Elizabeth Arghhhhh

Well you get the idea. So anyway it’s been another great week for politicians in the news (the Scarecrow from last week’s post seems to be proliferating!) and apparently there is wide interest in examining tweets and emails emanating from these important people. So before I see my emails on the news or in the paper here is a selection:

From: Wimsey

To: Vet

Re: finger up the bum

It has come to my attention that my visits to your establishment consistently result in fingers being inserted up my bum. I have no idea what you hope to find in there—it already appears to be a rather extensively explored space—and to my knowledge nobody wants what’s stored there. I must ask you therefore to forthwith desist from this practice lest it result in tooth in the hand. May I suggest that given my considerable financial support of your organization (pool in the yard) that you replace the finger up the bum with roast beef in the mouth.

From Wimsey

To: National Car Rental

Re: Recent rental

I recently rented a car from you and noticed that there appear to be only two seats in the front of your vehicles forcing me to stand on that storage thing in the middle. This is fatiguing over the course of a long journey. And even so I can barely reach the wheel or that crunchy GPS thing. May I suggest offering the option of a middle seat—preferably in a fine, soft leather, with attached trays for snacks and water. Inside wind shield wipers would also be useful.

From: Wimsey

To: NY City Parks Department

Re: Inadequate Trash Pick-Up

I wish to call your attention to the large number of plastic water bottles strewn about Central and Riverside Parks. As a consequence I have been forced to spend an untold number of hours collecting these bottles and precycling them while my humans are forced to stand and watch. And watch. And watch. The presence of these unsightly bottles means that my long walks have become even more extensive (precycling is a labor intensive business) and I no longer have as much time to water the plants, steal food from children, give concerts, poke people in the butt, fling drool, terrorize people with small dogs and rid the park of squirrels--- activities which I believe contribute substantially to the amenities and enjoyment (at least for me) of the park.

From Wimsey

To: The Pet Friendly Hotel

Re: Pet Unfriendliness

Please be advised that I am extremely displeased with calling your hotel pet friendly when this term applies only to dogs the size of gerbils that look like they can’t get up to much (trust me they can). In addition, charging exorbitant additional fees for such destructive services like cleaning, which only serve to remove all the interesting scent in the room and replace it with a disgusting fresh smell. I also object to the look of horror that comes over the faces of the staff when they view me majestically striding through their lobby—and before I have even flung an ounce of drool on them too! And finally I had a terrible time getting into the minibar.

From: Wimsey

To: Parents of Small Children

Re: Petting Me

It has come to my attention recently that there is lot of confusion over allowing your small child to pet me. Please be advised that allowing a small child to pet me will result in the following:

Your child’s hand will smell

Your child’s hand will contain bits of whatever I’ve been rolling in

Your child’s hand will have hair on it

Your child’s hand will have drool on it

Your child’s hand will not have the food they have been eating in it.

Of course I could also send people pictures of me naked but since I am always naked it seems to not be that much of a thrill. Perhaps if I were always wearing one of my coats it would be all “Ooooh I have a picture of Wimsey and I can see part of his saddle!”

So I think I will leave it there for this week. Did you know that air conditioners recirculate air so there is a cool, Hound scented breeze wafting though Elizabeth’s apartment. I may never go home.

Until next time,

Wimsey, one cool Hound