December 27, 2013-->
Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from the post-Christmas lull that characterizes the Upper West Side of Manhattan following the frenzy of the holidays. Things have been unusual around here because my primary human, Maria, is taking a week off from work and so I am spending all of my time at my apartment instead of being picked up at midday by her friend Elizabeth and coddled instead over at her apartment.
This hiatus is supposed to give Elizabeth a break from me and give her a chance to get all the things done that she alleges don’t get done because of me. But she had to participate in my antlered pre-Christmas tow over to the vet’s to deliver a basket of Jacques Torres chocolate to thank the staff for taking such good care of me. (Or for putting up with me). And then it was important for her to take a walk with me on Christmas Eve and of course she had to celebrate Christmas Day in the fashion that a Hound of my discernment demands---an afternoon spent out and about in the park. In this case, it was two parks, as after a walk in Central Park I decided that I also wanted to walk in Riverside Park.
I apologize for the paucity of pictures this week, but we were all having such a good time that it seemed a shame to ruin it (for me) by pulling out the camera or the phone; And my humans do get a bit tired of all those pictures they take of the side of my head or my rear end or pictures where I close my eyes or squint in an objectionable way that they think makes me look mean, or pictures where I drop my head between my shoulder blades in a manner that suggests that there is vulture in my pedigree or those in which I elevate my snout such that the my dominant feature becomes my nostrils, etc. And you will notice that I seem to be wearing yet another new coat. Actually this blue coat is an old gift from a friend that had to be resurrected this week due to my winning record in our bouts of fleece wrestling. My new, expensive coat from Chilly Dog in Canada has just arrived and Elizabeth is eager to bring it over for a fitting which, given the idiosyncratic nature of bloodhound proportions, has every chance of turning into a non-fitting.
But I digress. So, after endlessly complaining about how I eat up all her time, Elizabeth somehow feels it necessary to call Maria every afternoon to ask if it’s time for my walk yet. This means that I have been taking long afternoon walks with both my humans, thus turning every day into Sunday, which pleases me greatly. And I was in such good form yesterday that I had to be escorted home on the Heinous Gentle Leader. This had something to do with the fact that I kept refusing to walk until Maria gave me a Biljac Goober and when I subsequently did walk I kept endeavoring to make the acquaintance of a very realistic stuffed squirrel that was residing in the pet store bag that she was carrying.
But I am getting ahead of myself. One of the delightful aspects of the two-person weekday afternoon walk is that I get to show Maria all the places that I normally tow Elizabeth to on our afternoons together-- one of those places being my favorite pet shop, Unleashed, where I am a well-known regular. And whilst Elizabeth and I were making our appointed rounds so I could sniff all the bags of kibble and cat food (the next best thing to sniffing actual cats) Maria purchased the BilJacs which have been much missed since chewy.com stopped carrying them. And while she was about it, she decided to purchase the squirrel as well because my toy pile at her apartment was looking a bit dated. When I searched the aisles and “found” her (I am not a bloodhound for nothing) she was also unfortunately choosing some powdered digestive enzymes in a misguided attempt to reduce the noxious fumes that regularly emanate from my rear. Good luck with that and pass the Febreze.
Anyway, after I exhorted a cookie from the bakery bar I continued towing in a southerly direction. Elizabeth knowledgeably informed Maria that this meant that we were going to visit the Time Warner Center to inspect people’s packages and then visit the Construction Sites of the Far West Side. Accordingly I headed to Central Park instead. I pride myself on never doing what is expected. It was at this point (and after I had determined that the pastry stand at the park entrance was closed) that I commenced operations on the bag from Unleashed. This, as stated, resulted in the application of the HGL and in Elizabeth wondering what exactly it was about me that she missed. Like many of life’s highly anticipated pleasures, I am much better in the abstract.
Here are a few other pictures from this week:
This is me finding a new food truck. It was serving some tasty smelling Korean food which engendered some enhanced drool production and some prodigious and far-reaching drool flinging as a result. Service left something to be desired, however, as in spite of loudly placing my order several times, no nosh was forthcoming.
Now this looks like one of the many picture of me parking myself on a park bench to avoid the inevitable homeward progression. But if you look at my feet you will see that it is actually a picture of me parking myself on two benches to avoid the inevitable homeward progression. I love to do this because 1) it gets my humans’ knickers all in a twist about the prospect of me falling and there is much squealing at, pleading with and protecting of yours truly and 2) they can’t use the leash to pull me off of the bench (es) without risking injury to me which causes an indefinite halt to the proceedings.
And finally, I came across this sign and as is frequently the case with Hounds who are being told to be quiet, this happened.
Also not shown this week is the traditional Poking of, Leaning on and Standing on my Head for Christmas tourists. My humans think it prudent to focus on my activities on those occasions lest something untoward—like major dry cleaning bills or a lawsuit—occur.
And when I am absent for even a brief amount of time, the men who staff Elizabeth’s building ask after me. One of them always asks if I am dead. The “yet” can be inferred. Apparently my large size and loud baying take their toll on the nerves. Another of them asked if Elizabeth had found a home for me. Considering that, as befits a champion Hound such as myself, I basically have two homes (and the toy piles to prove it!) and several more if you count my breeders, Elizabeth was puzzled. Someone had told him about Elizabeth’s work with shelter dogs and he put two and two together and got a spectacularly incorrect five. He was obviously not working in the building when Elizabeth actually did foster shelter dogs. To be charitable, they didn’t look like me. I look like I should be out finding lost children, they looked like they should be out finding drug deals. And I am guessing that the sight of a small woman holding the leash of a powerful, drug dealer type dog struck a different kind of terror into the hearts of the building staff. The irony is that Elizabeth never had any trouble getting those dogs to obey her whereas I am another kettle of rawhides entirely. She says that’s because they were “regular dogs” her definition of which is “Not Bloodhounds.” Fortunately for me, neither of my humans has any ego investment in whether I listen to them---otherwise I really would be dead. And it can’t be said too many times-- it’s a good thing I am cute.
Anyway, now that we are finished with Christmas the New Year looms. As befitting a Hound of my stature I make a few New Year’s resolutions none of which I share with my humans because that would be telling and might also create some unwanted counter measures. Suffice it to say that all my resolutions involve being a better Hound which is to say being a worse dog. My humans’ resolutions generally center around hoping that my resolutions don’t involve too much damage, expense or embarrassment.
But in addition to the New Year, January is birthday season around here. Both my humans have January birthdays and Elizabeth generally celebrates by taking a vacation from me in locations that are not amenable to her continuously popping over to walk me. Last year it was Istanbul and this year it is likely to be Hawaii (she has to go really, really far to get away from me!). Maria will celebrate in a more sensible fashion by buying me a new toy and sitting on the couch scratching me. Both my humans are likely to be very busy in January which means that full blog posts might be a bit thin on the ground next month. If I can’t post, I will try to keep everyone updated via Facebook (you can find me by friending Maria Szabo if we aren’t friends already. Look for the Maria Szabo with my picture).
I think I will leave it there for this week. I hope everyone has a happy New Year. (I would wish people a safe New Year also but this would mean that they wouldn’t be allowed to be around large, space filling, leash-dragging paw thwacking bloodhounds).
Until next year,
Wimsey, A New Year, The Same Hound (alas)