September 16, 2011
Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, coming to you from my increasingly delightful (and autumnal) abode on Manhattan’s Upper West Side where I have had a very entertaining week that included getting and stealing several excellent presents, all richly deserved. But first let me say that whilst the advent of autumn is generally heralded by crisper temperatures and changing leaves, around here the season is on its way when my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth pore over the latest LL Bean catalog to assemble the season’s latest Hounding looks. The rest of the city might be caught up in New York Fashion Week busily debating the merits of Christian Dior and Christian Siriano while my ladies are busily debating the merits of Thinsulate and GORE-TEX.
Generally Hounding looks revolve around such iconic fashion themes as “farmer,” “ditch digger,” and “construction worker” with each item of clothing vying with the next to be the most shapeless, the most drool resistant and to have the most pockets (I have a lot of stuff that needs carrying and I refuse to have pockets spoil the line of my garments). Their prevailing fashion philosophy has been that the uglier and more unattractive the garment (Elizabeth’s boxy navy blue fleece lined hoodie comes to mind—a jacket of such superlative hideousness that even Maria managed to observe that it “did nothing for her.”) the less my humans will mind what it will look like after its been exposed to me.
So imagine my astonishment when Elizabeth’s LL Bean shipment arrived with a form-fitting Deluxe Hounding Toggle Cardigan (in an attractive blue color rather than the traditional, funereal black!), a red raincoat (!!!) and (most astonishing) a blue, fleece lined rain/shine coat that actually has a waist!!!! What’s next, I asked myself, abandoning me and actually going out on a date?
Of course a few weeks ago when she was out with me some man did ask Maria for her phone number but she decided that going out with a guy who is attracted to a woman who is basically wearing two sacks, whose hair is sticking up and whose face is devoid of any makeup-- not to mention the fact that she is also walking around with a really large, smelly dog that is dripping saliva-- is probably not a good basis for a relationship. But anyway, my shock at Elizabeth’s appearance today in the Deluxe Hounding Toggle Cardigan was quickly mitigated by my joy at her shrieks of dismay when I deposited a large quantity of drool along its sleeve. One abandons a sound fashion philosophy at one’s peril.
Elizabeth is now reconsidering her idea of wearing some new corduroy pants to walk me as I have taken to sitting in her lap quite a bit-- especially after a good roaching session. On the way home from one of our walks my humans noticed this revolting swampy smell which at first they thought (like most disgusting smells) was emanating from me. Well, it was me until I managed to transfer the scent to Elizabeth’s trousers. She was then forced to hustle them into the laundry post-haste hoping that none of the neighbors in the laundry room noticed the smell. Hence my new nickname-- The Swamp Thing.
But I digress. Let’s see, the week got off to an exciting start owing to a lovely visit with my friends at the 77the Street pedicab station. As those of you who read this blog know, I like to stop by for regular visits and have become quite enamored of these vehicles and the attentions of their drivers—there is nothing like furious, loud baying to attract pedicab customers. This week, however, I decided to hop aboard and see what it was like for myself. Unfortunately most of the pedicabs do not have seats that are deep enough to accommodate the generous Wimsey posterior so I confined myself to standing, but I did notice one cab with a deep seat so stay tuned! I am also starting to ingratiate myself with the 72nd Street pedicab drivers so one day I am hoping to hitch a ride with one of these sturdy humans as well.
And on the way home from Sunday’s walk, I as usual, tried to do some shopping at the local flea market. I am apparently not permitted, which is a great shame, as there is also a food section that I would very much like to investigate. And since I forcibly have that Vectra stuff put on my skin once a month I am impervious to any fleas, marketed or otherwise. But we did stop off at the pet store around the corner from my apartment-- where I am permitted as the staff finds me entertaining and acqui$itive—in order for Maria to buy a bag of Mother Hubbard large sized cookies. You will recall that a few weeks ago one of Elizabeth’s neighbors donated a bag of these to me (she has dachshunds!) and I have become so accustomed to having a large bone break during the course of my afternoon walk that my humans hated to deprive me when the supply ran out. Hence the new bag. Of course the fact that proffering a large bone shaped cookie is a sure fire way to take a break on a park bench and achieve a few moments peace is wholly beside the point.
Then there was the walk in which Elizabeth had the bright idea of stopping off at her favorite wine store on the way home from Central Park. The fact that to get to her favorite wine store you have to pass my favorite pet store seemed not to have occurred to her until she went flying over the threshold. What can I say? Like many New Yorkers I am a shopaholic. The fact that I don’t actually have to earn any of the money to shop only adds to the appeal of the activity which is further enhanced by the fact that my humans do. Anyway, there we all were dragging around the pet store when I espied a yellow sheep-- a must-have fall accessory in the Wimsey fashion pantheon.
Here I am inspecting some other merchandise when all of a sudden my sheep disappeared into a bag! Well this was insupportable! I simply had to have that sheep. Delayed gratification is another of those misguided concepts with which humans who are incapable of getting what they want delude themselves. Not so Hounds.
Anyway, the road to hell (or home) is paved with good intentions (like buying one’s Hound a coveted yellow sheep). Well I created quite a ruckus all the way home if I do say so myself—baying and prancing and charging and trying to shove my muzzle into the bag (Elizabeth had the bags of sheep and wine, Maria had me; both faced imminent danger of grievous bodily harm). Not to digress again, but apparently insurance company medical codes have gotten so specific that there are several codes that relate to being injured by a macaw. So I wonder if they have a code related to injuries incurred trying to defend a stuffed yellow sheep from the onslaught of a giant irate Hound?
But it all ended well—I finally obtained my sheep and that night whilst Maria attempted to sleep the sheep and I engaged in a prolonged, stimulating conversation. He is quite a talkative fellow when you squeeze him in the right spot.
This prompted my Tweeted nursery rhyme:
Wimsey had a squeaky sheep whose fleece was yellow as snow and everywhere that Wimsey went that f**!?%! loud sheep was sure to go.
And made me think that I could make some improvements in other nursery rhymes too.
Wimsey’s Book of Nursery Rhymes
Baa baa yellow sheep have you any stuffing
Yes Sir, yes sir three bags full
They’re all over the living room floor
Hope you have a Dyson.
Georgie Wimsie pudding and pie
Drooled on all the girls and made them cry
And when the boys came out to play
Georgie Wimsie slimed them too and proceeded to bay.
Hey diddle diddle the cat and the fiddle
The cow jumped over the moon
The giant Hound laughed to see such fun
Then he chased the cat and ate the fiddle.
Hickory dickory dock
The mouse ran up the clock
The clock struck one
The mouse ran down
And the humans were indignant because the Hound did absolutely nothing-- he only likes to chase squirrels.
Itsy bitsy large Hound climbing up the couch
Down came the cushions and he was very scared
Out came his human and yelled at him
So up went the Hound again and ate the cushions.
Jack and Jill went up a hill to fetch a pail of water
A Hound shoved Jack down and Jill came tumbling after
Then the Hound had a refreshing drink.
Jack be nimble
Jack be quick
If you ever want to see your socks again
Jack Sprat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
The Hound could eat both, so he did.
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner
Trying to eat his Christmas pie
He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum
And his Hound said “You gonna eat that?
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet1
Eating her curds and whey2
When along came a Hound
And sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet when he began to bay. Curds and whey are his favorite.
1 an ottoman
2 cottage cheese
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her kid a snack
When she got there
The cupboard was bare
And her Hound was washing his muzzle
Peter Peter pumpkin eater
Had a wife and couldn’t keep her
She told him it was her or his Hound.
Rain rain go away
Giant Wimsey wants to play
By dragging his humans through slippery mud until they fall down.
This little Wimsey went to market and stole the contents of someone’s shopping bag
This little Wimsey stayed home and ate the couch
This little Wimsey stole roast beef
This little Wimsey had none because he was still too full from the ham he had acquired
And this little Wimsey went wee wee wee all over the living room rug.
Well you get the idea. But still the gift giving continued this week! I met these ladies from Australia who were so charmed by me they gave me a water bottle so they could watch me chew it up. (I would have preferred a bra but no one ever seems to offer me one of those). And then yesterday we had some wet weather and the park was somewhat deserted and as I was investigating this large wet field I came across a fabulous prize!
A yellow rubber lacrosse ball (it matches my new sheep!) that someone had lost in the bushes. Well their loss was my gain and I started a lively game of auto soccer. Auto soccer is a game that doesn’t require any direct human participation other than admiring my skill in smacking the ball around and giving vigorous chase. But of course during the chase they must endeavor to stay upright and keep up with me whenever I make exciting runs down the field-- a fine addition to the Wimsey fitness program. And owing to my extreme enjoyment (augmented I may add by watching the leash holding human’s face turn white every time I began a spirited dash on a really wet section) Maria kept the ball so we can all play with it again, which I know my humans are really looking forward to.
And here I am acquiring a little more eau de swamp smell although I am guessing that Elizabeth will insist on giving me a good sniff before allowing me back on her lap.
Anyway, it’s been a very pleasant week and I am looking forward to fall (and its fashions!) when wet grass season is succeeded by slippery leaf season.
Until next time,
Wimsey, A Hound for all (slippery) seasons