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Entry #234
November 29, 2013
Hello and Happy Thanksgiving everyone! It is me, Wimsey,
coming to you from the frosty precincts of Manhattan’s Upper West Side where it
feels more like Christmas than Thanksgiving.
But neither my human Maria, who got to come home early from work on
Wednesday, nor her friend Elizabeth who, owing to the holiday doesn’t have to
cater to my whims for 4 ½ days, is complaining. But before Elizabeth could
disembarrass herself of me on Wednesday she had to take me for my afternoon walk. And since we had a considerable amount of
rain it meant that I decided that it was time for another lengthy expedition to
Central Park and the traditional watering of the human holding the leash. And
just in case Elizabeth was not moist enough I sat on her when she took me back
to my apartment where Maria was already home and preparing my lunch.
Because I eat so much turkey since it is impossible to get
me to do anything without a bribe (which my humans prefer to think of as
“positive reinforcement) this week I have been fed fresh grilled salmon from
the gourmet fish market instead.
Whenever anyone observes that I appear to well behaved be (appear being
the operative word) and ask my humans how they do it, they have 4 words: The
Fairway Deli Counter. We Hounds are by nature a transactional lot and all our
behaviors—at least the good ones—come with price tags on them.
But Thanksgiving is all about being thankful so I thought I
might share an abbreviated list of the things that my humans are thankful for.
Things my Humans are
Thankful For
That I bay politely at people when I want what they have
instead of just snatching it.
That none of my sidewalk snacks have (yet) resulted in an
emergency visit to the vet
That the extra deep couch (which Maria bought to accommodate
my pleasingly plus size posterior) is comfortable enough to sleep on when I
monopolize the bed and she can’t fit into the sliver that I have left for her.
That I only need an hour’s walk to identify the best spot in
which to poop.
That I first resort to charm rather than to larceny to get
what I want.
That I help keep New York City parks free of plastic water
bottles including the ones still in use that people might throw away later.
That although I will not sleep on my expensive Kuranda bed,
I haven’t eaten it.
That although I can bay in my sleep I have not yet learned
to fling drool whilst napping.
That people know who my humans are and are nice to them
because I am accompanying them.
That I have not yet pulled the ceramic soap holder out of
the wall when Elizabeth ties my leash to it in order to bathe me.
That they have an intimate knowledge of all the neighborhood
pet shops are and are up to date about all the latest merchandise.
That none of us are ever hungry owing to my frequent forays
to visit snack shops and food trucks.
That I have never actually succeeded in stealing dinner from
someone eating at an outdoor café.
That someone invented the (heinous) Gentle Leader.
That squirrels and rats run fast.
That I don’t weigh even more.
That I am sufficiently recovered from the tragic closure of
the Grom gelato store to instead invade Lush Cosmetics next door and demand
snacks from the staff.
That they have not yet fallen over when I shove them out of
the way when they put salmon in my food bowl.
That they get plenty of fresh air and exercise whether they
want to or not and irrespective of climactic conditions
That I am attentive enough to hygienic matters to demand
fresh water when there is drool in my water bowl.
That I wipe my face after a drink on the couch or on them
rather than on visitors or the TV set.
That I will stop digging up the Oriental rug if given a
large pile of smelly sheets to dig in instead.
That I let Elizabeth know whether anyone has made an
unauthorized visit to her apartment by running over to my toy pile and taking
inventory as soon as we come in.
That instead of being decorated with piles of colorful and
expensive throw pillows their apartments are decorated with piles of colorful
and expensive dog toys.
That I alert them to my need to go out by shoving a wet
stuffie in their faces and squeaking it.
That I relieve them of the boring peanuts in the mixed nut
canister by demanding that they hand feed them to me one at a time.
That instead of permanently destroying the plants in the
yard by digging them up I merely alter their shapes by napping on them.
That only my head will fit through the neighbor’s cat flap.
That someone invented Febreze.
That someone invented Grimeinator Shampoo
That I am not even bigger.
That I clearly signal when I am about to sneak up on someone
and poke them in the butt.
That I clearly signal when I am about to sneak up on someone
and stick my head into their grocery bag (NB: Without going into detail, I
recommend that if you are shopping on the Upper West Side you not have a
baguette sticking out of your shopping bag).
That on road trips I provide moral support for my
vehiculalry challenged humans by resting my chin on the driver’s shoulder and
giving them encouraging looks in the rear view mirror.
That on road trips I astound, amaze and entertain by
performing Houdini-like feats on a wide variety of canine seat belts.
That their lives now have a higher purpose—ME!
I know that there are plenty of Hound people out there with
similar lists—like maybe the fact that their Hound did not eat the couch (this
week) or that (most) of the furniture still has four legs or that their Hounds
only counter surfed healthy items, etc.
But most of all, my humans are simply thankful for me. As well they should be since I have a lot to
put up with—from Maria sometimes wanting to sleep in her bed to Elizabeth not
wanting to spend the entirety of every afternoon in Central Park. I was, in fact, most irritated with Elizabeth
this week: I was following an alluring airborne scent that was drifting in over
the Hudson from New Jersey when I was suddenly impeded by an inconvenient
barrier. I ordered Elizabeth to
immediately remove this heinous obstacle to my olfactory pleasure and she gave
me some lame excuse about us having reached the end of the pier. She can be
quite difficult at times.
Anyway, I hope everyone is enjoying the holiday and wisely
using their time off to engage in productive activities—like making a Christmas
list for their Hounds.
Until next time,
Wimsey and his ever-thankful humans
