August 1, 2014
Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, back at my post (no pun intended) on the Upper West Side of Manhattan helping to celebrate the advent of August and hopefully the approaching demise of the summer “No Walk Zone.” For the uninitiated this is anywhere where there is direct sunlight. And such is the delicacy of my petite feet that my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth can almost hear me chanting “feet feet feet” as I hightail it across the tarmac.
But first, I must tell you that I have been severely chastised for omitting to let everyone know that my toe recovery was substantially assisted by the large hunk of Morbier cheese that my humans bought for me. I am especially partial to Morbier, as my humans discovered during one of my many previous medical crises and I will eat it even if I refuse other food. The healing properties of Morbier are not to be underestimated. Fortunately (for me, at least), loss of appetite did not occur post toe surgery and the presence of the Morbier did not inhibit me from snacking on all the other cheeses on the cheese plate—preferably when they were presented on a nice crusty piece of baguette that the ladies were trying to eat. Sadly, Fairway baguettes don’t taste like the ones in Paris but in life one has to deal with such vicissitudes. And these days the toe is in such fine shape that it is like it never happened. Except for the bill.
But summer (and the ever-present threat of the dreaded cooling coat) is not wholly without its benefits. My humans and I do hang out in the backyard more often and we have already had two episodes of Adventures in Barbecuing. The first of these included a salmon steak from the fancy fish store that was for my exclusive gustatory pleasure. This was nearly not the case as Elizabeth found her chicken uneatable and Maria suggested that she should have my salmon instead. (Naturally my food was the only thing that turned out nicely). But Elizabeth was suitably horrified—it was all “But that’s Wimsey’s salmon! “ So I had my salmon as well as Elizabeth’s chicken and eventually all the rest of the half chicken that she had optimistically bought. Episode Two was more successful, although not from my point of view since the food turned out better. Maria made pizza dough and we had grilled pizzas. They weren’t too bad so the ladies actually ate them, although they were too large so I was once again called upon to employ my culinary skills to assist them. I have no idea what is being planned for our next al fresco meal but I am pretty sure that it’s going to involve a menu and a phone.
Summer is also good for visiting the Boat Basin Café, although one horrifying day this week they actually ran out of Milkbones. I’m afraid I refused to believe that such a catastrophe could occur so I parked myself where they should have been and refused to move. This created something of a traffic jam for the wait staff in whose way I was. The impasse ended when Elizabeth forcibly dragged me out of the place while trying to distract me with a fistful of turkey. As if. I get plenty of turkey (those who read this blog regularly will no doubt recall that turkey is the preferred meat in the pantheon of Wimsey Bribe-a-thon snacks) and I like the novelty of being served by different humans. Anyway, I assume that my rather robust response to the dearth of Milkbones had its effect because today as soon as the cashier saw me she hustled off to procure me a Milkbone.
And of course summer in the city also means that there are many activities such as this Sunday’s Riverside Park triathlon. This got me thinking that there should really be a Hound triathlon, although picking just three events from the plethora in which we excel is something of a challenge:
Event One: Gardening- Hounds will uproot and destroy a garden containing ten, expensive ornamental shrubs and dig a minimum of ten holes. Points awarded for speed and degree of destruction. Bonus points awarded for digging extra holes.
Event Two: Laundry-- Hounds will locate, invade and shred a large laundry basket filled with used ladies undies. Bonus points awarded for also destroying the basket.
Event Three: Towing—A timed event in which Hounds tow their humans over a five mile course containing mounds of horse poop, all of which must be located and snacked upon. Bonus points awarded for dragging humans through the horse poop.
But really, there are hundreds of potentially enjoyable events that could be used to construct a Hound triathlon. This week, for instance I used my prodigious powers of excrement retention to make my humans waste the maximum amount of time for the minimal amount of effect. Elizabeth and I took a leisurely 1 ½ hour walk during which time I visited Unleashed to cadge a cookie and then the Apple Store for a drink to wash it down with, but somehow did not find the time to locate a suitable place to poop. Back at Elizabeth’s I had a lovely lunch of cold chicken, yam and pumpkin (as well as some distasteful kibble), ate a bully stick (there really ought to be a twelve step program for those) and settled in for my usual afternoon nap. But later after some vigorous and noticeably detectable peristaltic activity I determined that I wished to go out again. So I alerted Elizabeth to the situation by finding a bully stick nub (useful things, those) and flinging it at her, having multiple drinks of water and shaking my head in her vicinity and then wiping my snout on her pant leg, and digging in my toy pile to have various creatures weigh in on the issue. Finally she got up from her work and started to prepare for a walk. At which point I lay down and went to sleep. We did actually go out for our next walk a bit early, which necessitated Maria meeting us directly from work which resulted in the sliming of her work clothes and her having to walk in shoes that are not sneakers. Then there are so few good spots to poop in New York that it took me another hour to find one. For inexplicable reasons, my humans were perturbed.
Anyway, enough about me (not). I thought that since it was summer we should look in on my friends Dick and Jane.
Summer Fun With Dick and Jane
See Dick. Dick is in the Hamptons. Dick’s father runs a hedge fund. He is also called Dick.
Dick is sad. Dick’s parents are not celebrities. Dick’s parents do not know Martha Stewart. Dick’s parents do not own their own jet. They eat gluten. Dick is underprivileged.
See Jane. Jane is happy. She is going to visit Dick.
“Hello Dick”, said Jane. “Hello Jane” said Dick. “Let’s eat the cupcakes that I helped the housekeeper bake, “ said Dick. “I like cupcakes.” said Jane.
See Dick’s Hound. See Dick’s Hound’s nose. See the frosting on Dick’s Hound’s nose. Dick’s Hound eats gluten.
“I can’t find the cupcakes,” said Dick. “Never mind” said Jane. ‘Cupcakes make you fat.”
“Let’s have a picnic on the beach!” said Dick. “I like picnics on the beach!” said Jane. Dick’s Hound also likes picnics on the beach.
See Dick and Jane at the beach. They have turkey, cheese and kale sandwiches. “Where is the turkey said Dick?” “Where is the cheese?” said Jane. Dick’s Hound does not like kale.
“Never mind” said Jane. “Turkey and cheese make you fat.”
See the sun. The sun is very hot. “I am hot,” said Dick. “I am hot,” said Jane. Dick’s Hound is also hot.“ See the big umbrella. “Let us sit under the big umbrella,” said Dick. “I would like to sit under the big umbrella,” said Jane. Dick and Jane cannot sit under the big umbrella. There is no room.
“Let’s build a sand castle!” said Dick. See Dick and Jane build a sand castle. The sand castle is very tall. See Dick’s Hound. Dick’s Hound likes tall sand castles. See Dick’s Hound admire the tall sand castle. See Dick’s Hound add a moat. See Jane cry.
See the nice lady. “Don’t cry little girl,” said the nice lady. “Here is a cookie,” said the nice lady. “The cookie has no gluten,” said the nice lady. “The cookie has no sugar,” said the nice lady. “The cookie has no fat,” said the nice lady. “It does not taste very good,” said the nice lady. “The Hound will not like the cookie”
See Jane. Jane is happy. The nice lady gave her a cookie. See Dick. Dick is happy. The nice lady was Martha Stewart.
But my humans and I do not want to be in the Hamptons. We have the yard. And the barbecue (Although I bet Martha Stewart is better at barbecuing). But seriously…
Anyway, that’s about it for this week. I have my duties to attend to-- which mainly consist of making sure that my humans don’t attend to theirs. I especially like it when Elizabeth nags Maria about why she hasn’t done something for my book project and all eyes swivel in my direction. Apparently working on the computer is incompatible with having me in your lap. Who knew?
Until next time,
Wimsey, making summertime living not easy