Entry #268July 6, 2012
Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey, coming to you from the continuing heat wave- on -Hudson extravaganza that is currently occurring on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. As those of you who have had any contact with Hounds know, we are a group who are utterly devoted to our own comfort.
So when offered a choice between going outside in the hot, humid and baking weather (even or maybe especially when wearing a cooling coat dripping in cold water) or lying around (or being pesky) in the cool air conditioning, what do you think we choose? Additionally compelling is the fact that although my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth don’t much appreciate the heat either, it is not as vexing to them as me keeping them out in, say, a nice refreshing rain storm (or hurricane as happened last year) or on some lovely frigid and blustery night. In short, going outside in the heat doesn’t even have annoying my humans to recommend it. In fact it is much more annoying to them when I try to scuttle between air-conditioned venues without even bothering to pee or poop.
But there are things that we Hounds can do to alleviate the torrid conditions currently extant in large parts of the country:
Steal cooling foods like watermelon instead of the more traditional ones like the Sunday roast
Bat ice cubes around the kitchen floor tripping and knocking over people actually trying to use the kitchen.
Produce pools of drool throughout the house that are invisible until someone slips and goes flying (preferably whilst carrying something edible).
Lie in front of the air conditioner vent so that you are cool but no one else is.
Dig cooling holes all over the garden to correspond with the shady spots created by the sun’s position.
Dig a hole under the fence in order to take a dip in the neighbor’s pool.
Demand extra cups of Grom Gelato.
Plaster oneself against the sides of building so one is always in the shade.
Tow one’s humans to air-conditioned pet stores.
In between the air conditioned pet stores dive into other air-conditioned stores whether or not you are supposed to be there and then refuse to move.
Lick the frosty sides of beer mugs replacing the cold frost with warm drool.
Consume a snow cone, preferably one not originally in your possession.
Grab some shade under the tables of people trying to eat at outdoor cafes.
Put your head in the coolest spot in the house--the inside of the refrigerator.
Whatever your humans want you to do, do the opposite (this won’t specifically help with the heat but the fun of doing it will take your mind off how hot you are).
Personally I like to kill two birds with one stone by towing my humans to the air conditioned liquor store where they always have snacks for dogs (especially giant ones who put both paws on the counter and loom over the clerks’ head in a hungry manner) and where my humans can purchase assorted antidotes to me.
And although the heat has put the kibosh on numerous plans to use my little shared backyard to barbecue and hang out, Maria and I have been using it in the mornings before it gets too hot. She has her coffee and I try to have her coffee. Our use of the garden is made possible by my relinquishing the habit of baying furiously whenever the neighbor’s cat appears. (Although my recent friendly overtures towards her seem to have elicited her best imitation of an Edward Gorey drawing). But I will persevere (we Hounds excel at persevering) in my attempt to sniff the cat while Maria will persevere in her attempt to prevent my nose from getting slashed. But I am sure that the vet bills for a slashed nose would pale in comparison to my usual ones—my tush now requires anointing with a special emollient whose cost is the proverbial price beyond pearls. I am not known as the Hound With the Golden Tush for nothing.
This week also it came to the attention of my humans (and probably their neighbors) that my Ruff Wear Swamp Cooler cooling coat had acquired the odor of an actual swamp. The prevailing theory is that my illicit forays into the Central Park Lake caused me to exude a distinctly swampy fragrance that I then transmitted to the coat. And although the coat has been washed, Elizabeth decided to tackle (literally) the source of the problem by giving me a bath. Now the shock and awe reverberating throughout the Hound world over the fact that a single human (and one who is smaller than I am to boot) could bathe me solo has caused me much mental anguish.
But as with all things seemingly impossible there is a simple explanation: Elizabeth cheats. She ties me to the ceramic soap holder that is cemented into the bathtub wall. This significantly impedes my ability to exit the tub. And before one calls the authorities about the cruel and unusual practice of bathing a Hound who manifestly does not wish to be bathed, I will say in Elizabeth’s defense that she lays on a generous amount of turkey to appease my amour-propre. It is in fact possible to scrub with one hand and to feed turkey with the other. Further post-bath reparations include a nice meal and a large bully stick so I will not be pressing charges at this time. But that by no means means that all was forgotten and forgiven. proceeded to try to steal Elizabeth’s boiled egg, then deposited a large and unsightly drool stain on her jeans, then slimed her mouse pad, then forced her to share some yogurt with me, then climbed on her when she tried to watch Wimbledon and finally covered the couch in Hound hair in spite of having just been brushed and washed. I seem to recall hearing her tell Maria something about my life being in peril unless she picks me up soon.
But of course another way to beat the heat is to go to the movies. And although the latest crop of summer movies is entertaining I think that they could be improved:
Wimsey’s Summer Movies
Wimsey (original title, Ted): In a Christmas miracle of the kind that only happens in the minds of screenwriters who are short of ideas, John Bennett’s beloved and adorable stuffed bloodhound comes to life. It turns out that the Hound is indulgent, entitled, selfish, stubborn, opinionated, relentless, vocal and always gets his way. He also becomes a roaring success as a food critic. The ladies love him. The men want to be him (at least those that aren’t him already). Commitment phobic John must decide whether or not to stay with his girlfriend but this becomes a moot point when she decides that if she has to live with someone who is indulgent, entitled, selfish, stubborn, opinionated, relentless, and who always gets his way she might as well ditch the guy and get a Hound. They’re a lot cuter.
The Amazing Hound Man (original title The Amazing Spider Man): While Peter Parker is playing with mutant spiders, his cousin Wimsey Parker is playing with mutant Hounds. The mutant Hounds drool on him and Wimsey suddenly finds that he has this amazing ability to tune people out and not to hear anyone yelling at him, criticizing him or telling him what to do. This engenders a wonderful sense of personal freedom and self esteem that is so empowering that it inspires Wimsey to go after the things that he wants with a single minded determination. He also finds that he has acquired a super sense of smell that enables him to humiliate his high school enemies by accurately calling attention to their failures of personal hygiene as well as to locate sources of delicious food being eaten by others. Girls suddenly find him unbearably cute and are attracted to his ability to always get what he wants in life. All of this sets up a looming confrontation with his archenemy, The Amazing Golden Retriever.
Savages: Two California marijuana growers, Cheech and his buddy Chong and their three way gossipy girlfriend Ophelia are threatened by a Mexican drug cartel. Even the assistance of a disco dancing dirty DEA agent can’t help them. The day is saved when they unleash their secret weapon on the cartel: the savages. Also known as a large litter of bloodhound puppies.
To Wimsey With Love (original title: To Rome with Love): Four overly intellectual intertwined stories of people who love Wimsey. As a consequence, they all meet in a psychiatrist’s office.
The Avengers: Nick Fury, a director of S.H.I.E. L.D. has a problem: somehow a dramatically convenient malfunction has occurred in the Tesseract and a time portal has opened. As is usually the case with time portals nobody who wants to cure cancer or bring world peace slips through. Nice people never travel in time portals. Time portals, however, are a favorite mode of transportation of beings bent on World Domination. This time it’s Loki a thoroughly unpleasant and belligerent Norse god who looks to be badly in need of the therapist’s couch. Anyway, Fury briefly considers calling in such super hero luminaries as Captain America and the Hulk but decides in the end to call in a much more powerful and experienced set of avengers: The Hound Group. The evildoers are tracked to their lair by Bloodhound who lays a trail of magically slippery slime. Then Loki is chased onto the slime by Greyhound whereupon he is sat upon by Wolfhound and Deerhound and guarded by Ridgeback who is just waiting for someone to make his day. Beagle then eats the entire food supply of the gang and Bloodhound eats everything else. Loki and his allies flee back through the time portal after concluding that World Domination is vastly overrated and not worth the effort of being annoyed by the Hound Group-- especially after the consequences of Bloodhound and Beagle’s gastronomic escapades become apparent.
Magic Wimsey (original title Magic Mike): An experienced Hound takes a youngster, known as The Puppy, under his wing. He teaches him how to succeed as a Hound including imparting such Houndly precepts such as never give up—where there is a will there really is a way—and never apologize—why tuck your tail when it’s your human’s fault that they took their eye off their sandwich for that split second. He teaches The Puppy how to look exceptionally cute after chewing up pricey Italian leather goods and that the day before laundry day is the best time to raid the hamper. But then Wimsey wonders whether his sybaritic life style is all that satisfying and thinks that maybe he should do something worthwhile like using his nose to find lost children instead of those steak bones in the garbage bin. But then he realizes that stealing the steak bones are a lot more fun so he and The Puppy eat the couch while their humans are off watching a movie about very hot guys taking their clothes off.
Well you get the idea. Anyway, I think I will leave it there for this week. My humans are hoping that I will find this evening’s climactic conditions more conducive to excreting than they were earlier in the day. They probably are but I do like the sight of the ladies pleading for me to produce the contents of my bladder and bowel. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Until next time,