July 26, 2013
Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey, unbaked and unbowed here on Manhattan’s Upper West Side where the prolonged hot and humid weather finally broke into a frosty 82 degrees. Never mind that I still don’t like it, it’s below my cooling coat cutoff so I’ll take it. And my human Maria is delighted that it’s cool enough that we can enjoy the back garden together in the company of the new Home Hedgie that she bought me because I am so attached to my hedgehog over at her friend Elizabeth’s. I like my stuffed companions to get out and about and there is generally quite a discussion at the front door about the wisdom of taking Doggie for a walk. Now Hedgie can join him! And even my monster toy pile over at Elizabeth’s gets to be out and about, although this generally involves them popping up under foot in places where she least expects them and is most likely to trip over them. Kind of like me.
But even though the temperatures are out of egg frying range, it is still summer which means that I am still resistant to being out of air conditioning range during the middle of the day. Consequently I plaster myself against buildings and try to dart into air conditioned stores—preferably those that offer me snacks, like the pet stores and the banks-- or insist that every walk feature a visit to the Boat Basin Café where I can lie on the cool tiles, enjoy the river breezes and stick my head in buckets of ice water. And of course, munch the Milk Bones they give me. This later obsession makes Elizabeth particularly crazy since she orders large boxes of assorted gourmet snacks for me, many of which I refuse to eat. So the rejected packages are piling up over at her place and they all seem to contain the words “natural, organic, holistic, human quality, oven baked,” etc., which are marketing code words for “expensive.” I mean if I wanted stuff of that description I would just lift it from Elizabeth’s refrigerator.
But we interrupt this blog for a:
Wolf Blitzer: Hello Everyone, thanks for joining us. I’m Wolf Blitzer joined by my colleague….
Anderson Cooper: Not another special report Wolf! Tell me this one is not about the Royal Baby!
Wolf: No, Anderson. The producers thought about it but they couldn’t come up with an angle that contained anything shocking or disturbing enough. Although I had heard they were hoping that the baby would look like Prince Harry.
Anderson: Well some people think that naming the kid George was pretty disturbing. I mean why not a normal name like Jayden, or Aiden or Elijah for example?
Wolf: A good question, Anderson, but it will have to wait. Right now we are going to cover a scandal.
Anderson: Don’t tell me, not another politician or business leader who has slept with prostitutes, posted pictures of their boy bits to women online, hiked the Appalachian Trail down to their mistress in Argentina, asked female employees to work without their underwear, touched women inappropriately….
Wolf: No Anderson, not quite. This is a hexting scandal.
Anderson: That’s a new one for me Wolf. What exactly is hexting?
Wolf: It’s Hound texting Anderson and I warn you, the images that we are about to see are pretty graphic. Wimsey has been sending them to humans that he met online.
Anderson: OK. Well what is this first one. It looks like a meteor shower struck someone’s yard.
Wolf: Close. This is what an unsupervised Hound did to $30,000 worth of landscaping in two hours.
Anderson: But that’s obscene!
Wolf: The owners of the yard thought so. Now look at this one.
Wolf: It’s the contents of someone’s walk-in closet after a Hound walked in.
Anderson: I can’t bear to look, Wolf. I saw a Chanel button in there!
Wolf: Yes, it’s upsetting, I know. And this next one is even worse.
Wolf: It was a couch, Anderson. And that wood used to be a Chippendale chair.
Anderson: I’m going to cry. How could this happen Wolf!
Wolf: Boredom, Anderson.
Anderson: This is too much to bear, Wolf. I think I’d rather look at Anthony Weiner’s penis!
Wolf: I feel your pain, Anderson. At least the penis is intact.
Anderson: For the moment, anyway.
Wolf: It’s a good thing we decided that the image of the Aubusson was too troubling to display. This next image isn’t all that bad.
Anderson: An empty refrigerator with a head of lettuce?
Wolf: It’s a refrigerator after a trip to the supermarket.
Anderson: They just bought lettuce?
Wolf: No but Hounds don’t like lettuce.
Anderson: Few of us do. I think lettuce is a culinary conspiracy. Perhaps we should do a show on that—the producers like conspiracies.
Wolf: Well there are people who think Hounds being foisted on humans is a conspiracy to keep us weak, stupid and poor. But take a look at this image.
Anderson: I give up. It’s a massive collection of dark splotches on a light colored background. Is it a Jackson Pollock?
Wolf: Worse, it’s the wall of an apartment whose owner just spent $15,000 to paint it.
Anderson: Ouch. Well what is this next one about? It just looks like a large American Express bill. Did the Hound take a world cruise?
Wolf: No, he went to the vet.
Anderson: OK, so what are Wimsey’s humans doing to ensure that these obscene images are not disseminated further?
Wolf: We understand that the problem has taken care of itself---he ate the phone.
That’s it for Wolf Blitzer and Anderson Cooper. Join us next week for our special report as a team of leading scientists discuss what would happen if Mt. Vesuvius erupted in midtown Manhattan.
Well you get the idea. I guess the silly season started early this year. But speaking of texts, both my humans use Blackberry Z10s and communicate urgent pieces of information via BlackBerry Messenger. The phone is designed to learn the words that are used frequently to speed up the messaging process:
Soft but formed
Snoring and farting
Refuses to pee
Refuses to poop
Hound (with a capital “H”)
Sir (with a capital “S”)
Drool in the face
Drool on the rug
Slipped on drool
Another package for Sir at the front desk
Won’t eat kibble
Turkey, yam pumpkin and kibble
Snout in trough
Demanding my yogurt
Demanding my Gala apple
Towing to Boat Basin
Refusing to leave Boat Basin
Hound Hair stuck on sunscreen
Hound Hair stuck in mouth
Hound Hair stuck on face
Hound Hair stuck in cleavage
Hound hair up nose
Vet’s new swimming pool
Hey, they don’t call them smart phones for nothing. Still, it amuses my humans when they type a “p” and the first suggested word is poop. Somewhere an NSA computer is exploding.
Well I think I will leave it there for this week. Stay cool.
Until next time,
Wimsey, a cool Hound in any season