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 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