Entry #340
January 31, 2014
Hello Everyone it is me,
Wimsey, back with you on the Upper West Side of Manhattan after my winter
hiatus. It is hard to know who is happier about things getting back to
normal—my human Maria who doesn’t have to take care of me 24/7 because her
friend Elizabeth is back from a birthday jaunt to Maui or Elizabeth who doesn’t
have to take care of me 24/7 because Maria is sufficiently recovered from eye
surgery to resume her Hound serving duties. And then there is me who am happy
to have both my humans and both their apartments at my disposal once again.
Elizabeth got back last
Saturday and in spite of the 12 hour flight came over immediately to reacquaint
herself with “her” Hound (I am usually “her Hound” for that brief interval
before I do something obnoxious and then I become “Maria’s Hound.”). I was
quite happy to see Elizabeth again and even managed to eat a few of the
Hawaiian coconut and pineapple cookies that she brought for me before spitting
them out as is my custom when I am ready to move on to a different snack. And I
sat on her lap and drooled on her and dug my elbows into various sensitive
portions of her anatomy to demonstrate my approbation of her return. But then
on Monday I was summarily packed off to Elizabeth’s (“packed” being the
operative word since it took an entire backpack to transport the minimum amount
of my chattels necessary for my care for a couple of days while Maria had and
recovered from some outpatient eye surgery (the better to see me and admire me
I believe).
Now ordinarily this would be
a good thing since I very much enjoy hanging out (read, bothering, annoying,
harassing, irritating and frustrating) with Elizabeth. However, this usually
occurs while Maria is at work and not when she is sitting in her apartment a
few blocks away where I can clearly smell her in the neighborhood. So every
time we went out I would try to tow over there to see if she wanted to come
along. But then on Wednesday evening she
finally appeared at Elizabeth’s apartment (I merely glanced at her and thumped
my tail once because I was communing with my bully stick) and we all went for a
walk together. And as is my custom on such occasions I tried to tow back to
Elizabeth’s because I am supposed to be going home.
Anyway, there has always been
a scurrilous rumor that I am not an intelligent dog. This is apparently based
on the fact that I am not a rocket scientist or a border colie and don’t do
tricks or obey commands (in fact my humans think it is hilarious when some stranger
wants to give me a treat and asks me to shake hands or something ridiculous
like that) and I often walk into things and wrap my leash around trees. But Elizabeth was finally disabused of this
notion of my intellectual deficits during my stay with her; I gave her a Master
Class in Intelligent Hound behavior: I
have a toe with a small growth on it that I am not supposed to lick. So as I
was lying on Elizabeth’s rug licking it she said “Wimsey stop licking your toe,”
pushed my head aside and made the fatal error of rubbing my stomach. It only took one instance of her ceasing to
rub my belly and me resuming the licking of my toe and a second “Wimsey stop
licking your toe” followed by a resumption of the stomach rubbing to convince
me that I now possessed a completely new tool to command a belly rub!
Thereafter during my stay whenever I wanted a belly rub, instead of rolling
over and hoping for the best, I would lick my toe and as soon as I heard
“Wimsey stop licking your toe” I would immediate roll over to have my belly
rubbed.
Elizabeth frequently
justifies teaching me obnoxious behaviors under the guise of “giving the dog a
vocabulary to express its needs.” She uses this concept very successfully with
shelter dogs to get them to sit politely and look at her when they want a piece
of turkey instead of jumping, mouthing or attempting to acquire it for
themselves. Fortunately for her, none of those dogs is a Hound who possesses a
vast and elaborate set of needs, requests and demands. Thanks to Elizabeth I now have quite an
impressive “vocabulary” with which to communicate my desires not the least of
which is licking my toe when I want a belly rub.
For instance, I can say:
I want a cookie.
No not that cookie, another
one.
Not that cookie either.
Perhaps a piece of turkey.
I wish to go out NOW.
I do not wish to go out now.
I wish to continue my nap.
Go sleep on the couch, there
is no room on the bed.
Sit on the floor, there is no
room on the couch.
Get off the couch I want to
stretch out.
Come over here and scratch me.
It’s time to take a break
from the computer.
I do not wish you to read the
newspapers.
If you want me to eat this disgusting
bowl of kibble put some actual food in it.
I want to eat ________ (insert whatever you are eating).
If you leave me alone when I
do not wish to be left alone there will be consequences.
Let me out of this bathtub
NOW.
I do not wish to wear that
coat.
I need another bowl of
water-this one has drool in it.
I am bored.
Hedgie wants to go for a
walk.
Whichever way you want to
walk, I do not wish to walk that way.
Go away!
Come here!
Mine!
And those are just the ones
that I can remember off the top of my pointy head. I think I am really quite an intelligent beast
and I always say that if your Hound doesn’t listen to you it’s because you are
saying the wrong thing. Although I don’t
understand “Wimsey stop that” I always understand “Wimsey come here and have a
piece of pizza.” And now of course, “Wimsey don’t lick your toe.”
We also had another Polar Whatchamacallit
which sent the temperature plummeting and sent me over to the dog run to sit
and watch the dogs play and to socialize with the entire Upper West Side
instead of looking for a place to relieve myself. I think the cool fresh air is
very stimulating for my humans because they jump up and down and talk to me a
lot with some very unfamiliar words.
It is axiomatic that the devil
is in the details and I take this concept very much to heart. I do not cause my
humans mental anguish by undertaking flashy but infrequent actions—like eating
the couch (OK, maybe for some Hounds this isn’t so infrequent an action) but I
constantly erode their sanity in small yet endless and persistent ways—like
periodically calling a halt to our walks until I have been fed sufficient supplies
of my desired cookie du jour, or towing to the apartment that I am not supposed
to be in, or always putting my body in the spot that Elizabeth’s feet need to
be when she sits on the couch, or monopolizing Maria’s bed and refusing to move
to allow her space, or being anal retentive whenever climactic conditions are unpleasant,
or deciding that I am not in the mood to pee during my last walk of the night,
or coming in from a walk where I have declined to eliminate and then demanding
to go out again immediately, or deciding that the length of my afternoon walk
is directly proportional to the amount of work
Elizabeth has on her desk, or
demanding to be bribed into my collar and harness and given a special snack at
the door, or refusing to shake myself when I am in the bathtub (except when I am
all soaped up) and then shaking myself as soon as I get out so I coat the
bathroom with water, drool and hair, or demanding that yogurt, ice cream and
gelato be fed to me on a spoon, or making Elizabeth bite off pieces of her
apple and feed them to me when she is really hungry, or making sure that my
bottom is pointed towards my humans when I have a gas attack, or when I want to
sit on a park bench or hang out in a field just until one of my humans starts
checking emails and then I have an urgent need to continue our walk, and in the
many other small ways that make them look at me and say “Really Wimsey?
Really?” in between pronouncing me a “wretched animal” and threatening to commit
Houndicide.
And then they have to walk
with me on the street and have people say things like “What a nice dog!” and
“He’s so well behaved!” I especially like it when I am staring at my humans and
people coo, “Oh look, he loves you, “ when the more accurate interpretation is
actually “Give me a cookie. Now.” And then there was the other day when I
turned into an immobile Hound Lawn Ornament and refused to move for a full 30
minutes because I wished to watch two park employees repair a sidewalk. I found
the process fascinating. Elizabeth not so much.
But of course I am very cute.
Although I should point out that it was a mere 48 hours between a
fresh-from-Hawaii-Elizabeth’s “I missed my Hound!” to a fresh-from -taking
care- of- me Elizabeth’s call to Maria “Come get your Hound!”
Anyway, I think I will leave it
there for this week. I am sorry for the older photos—the cold weather makes
taking off gloves to take photographs an unappealing prospect for my negligent
humans.
Until next time,
Wimsey, a very articulate
Hound
