September 5, 2014
Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey the Wonderful coming to you from the suspiciously summery precincts of Manhattan’s Upper West Side where once again I was forced to wear my cooling coat. This was very disappointing considering the calendar says it is September. Isn’t there some fashion rule about not wearing a cooling coat after Labor Day?
Whatever the failings of the weather, it turns out that Labor Day was aptly named this year because my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth were hard at work on my art books. After many technical and aesthetic glitches (most of which seemed to require drinking cocktails in the yard) the plan is to actually try to upload them to Amazon this weekend and see if the system will accept them. As much as I am looking forward to their eventual publication, I do think that the fact that eBooks are odorless is a major flaw. Perhaps I need to create an app for that. Of course, the sight of my humans poring over pictures of me whilst I pester them to hand feed me individual cocktail nuts is always satisfying and will be missed. However, as much as I will miss these publishing confabs I am sure that the technical service people at Kindle Direct Publishing will not miss them at all—somewhere there is probably a special folder titled, Them Again.
Anyway, I will be announcing publication when (and if) it actually occurs. All that will be needed to appreciate the glory of me, Amazon style, is to download a free Kindle app to one’s computer, iPad, tablet or phone and to have some modest credit card cash handy. My books will be available globally too because Hound Love knows know geographic boundaries --which is fitting because we Hounds know no boundaries at all, geographic or otherwise. I am charging the minimum that Amazon allows for books of this size-- apparently I take up a lot of room even in cyber space--and if it makes everyone feel any better, remember on whom the book revenues will be spent. Keeping me in toys, bully sticks, vet visits, coats, kibble, turkey, chicken, yams, yogurt, eggs, cheese, gelato, Belgian waffles, hamburgers, nuts, cupcakes, snacks, shampoo, anti-stink spray, ear cleaner, toothpaste, eye ointment, joint supplements and probiotics just to name a few items, doesn’t come cheap. And that is to say nothing of the laundry and dry cleaning bills and all the wall cleaner that hit my humans’ pocketbook in a fairly forceful manner. It is no wonder they both have to work so hard.
And in two late breaking pieces of news: 1) it has been definitively established that fancy probiotic powders do not impede the free flow of Hound Gas and 2) given adequate time (a year) a Hound can actually learn to nap on his kuranda bed. This latter development was the highlight of my humans’ summer. That and the Italian Spritz cocktail recipe that Elizabeth brought back from Tuscany (1/3 Aperole, 2/3 Prosecco, a splash of club soda and an orange slice. Serve on the rocks in a wine glass whilst being mercilessly pestered by a Giant Hound).
So pretty much it’s been “same old same old” around here—the usual round of visits to the pet shops, Apple Store, Boat Basin Café, etc., when I deem the weather cool enough. But lest you crave more detail, here is a sample:
1. Elizabeth enters my apartment at midday.
2. I acknowledge her presence by rolling over so she can pay tribute to my tummy.
3. She puts fresh, non-drooled in water in my bowl and assembles my spa supplies: eye ointment, ear cleaner, toothbrush and toothpaste and anti-yeast pads for the area between my flews.
4. She bribes me out of the bedroom with turkey.
5. I have a long drink of water.
6. Elizabeth refills my water bowl.
7. I ascend the couch.
8. Elizabeth deals with my eyes, the yeast farm in my ears, my choppers and the auxiliary yeast farm between my flews.
9. She puts everything away while I have a drink of water and return to the couch.
10. Elizabeth refills my water bowl.
11. Elizabeth reappears with my collar and harness.
12. I decline to leave the air-conditioned splendor of my couch.
13. Elizabeth bribes me off the couch with turkey.
14. I have another drink of water.
15. Elizabeth refills my bowl.
16. I ascend the couch.
17. Elizabeth bribes me off the couch with turkey.
18. We leave my apartment.
19. While she is locking the door I attempt to drag her down the hallway.
20. I bay to alert the building to the news that I am going out for a walk.
21. If it’s not too hot or sunny I take Elizabeth anyplace that she does not wish to go and do minimum business in maximum time.
22. If it is hot and sunny I refuse to walk.
23. Elizabeth bribes me with turkey to walk.
24. We go back to her building. The elevator guy scratches me. Elizabeth holds my flews to prevent me shaking slime all over him.
25. Elevator opens.
26. I charge down the hallway hunting for Little Teddy, the neighbor’s mini-doodle.
27. Although I can smell him, I fail to find him.
28. I enter Elizabeth’s apartment.
29. I inventory my toy pile to make sure no canine competitor has disturbed it.
30. I have a drink of water.
31. Elizabeth refills my water bowl.
32. I notice that my food bowl only contains kibble. I want a proper lunch.
33. I stare at Elizabeth until she augments my food bowl with chicken breast, pumpkin and yam. Sometimes boiled egg also.
34. I eat, slowly and carefully, making sure to strew the maximum amount of Vile Kibble all over the kitchen floor.
35. I choose an inconvenient spot and settle in for my afternoon nap.
36. Lest Elizabeth feel lonely produce copious quantities of gas so she knows that I am there even if she can’t see me.
37. I complete an extensive two-hour nap.
38. I have drink of water. I shake my head then wipe my snout on the couch.
39. I demand that Elizabeth stop whatever it is that she is doing (especially if it is work and not related to me) and scratch me.
40. I demand that Elizabeth stop scratching me and play with me.
41. I throw my bully stick nub around until it lands under furniture so she can fetch it for me. It’s her favorite game.
42. Is it time to go out yet? Is it time to go out yet? It is time to go out yet?
43.Elizabeth has pre-walk snack. I demand to share the pre-walk snack. I wait until Elizabeth gets my equipment ready and then I ascend the futon.
44. Elizabeth bribes me off the futon with duck heart.
45. Duck heart must be cut into 4 pieces otherwise I will not move until 4 pieces of them appear.
46. I have a long drink of water while Elizabeth waits. I suspect that she’s texting Maria again and that the message has some not nice words in it.
47. I charge out of apartment. I bay. I can smell Little Teddy. He’s got to be around here somewhere. No luck. Sniff the elevator guy’s butt instead.
48. Elizabeth bribes me across the street to Riverside Park after which I decline to walk or do any business until Maria shows up about an hour later.
49. Elizabeth says she hates me. That’s completely untrue. Probably.
And that’s how my summer days go. Once the weather gets cooler there is a better chance of entertaining me for a longer afternoon walk and I might curtail my summer Pest-a-thon activities. But then again, maybe I won’t.
Anyway, before I leave you for this week I wanted to say how sorry I was to hear about Joan Rivers. For those of you who did not read my Facebook Post, several years ago I encountered this lady and can vouch for the fact that she was a woman of impeccable taste. I was heading home from disporting myself on the tony East Side and as I was heading west across Park Avenue, Joan Rivers was heading east. As we crossed paths, she fixed me with her discerning eye, pointed and pronounced me “Fabulous! Fabulous! Fabulous!” I took note of this since it is not usually what I am called when humans point at me and raise their voices. Her favorable notice was even more satisfying since Elizabeth was distinctly unfabulous, caparisoned as she was in a hideous ensemble of drool encrusted baggy jeans and smelly tee shirt. Sadly, I did not get a chance to slime her and always regretted this inexcusable oversight.
AnyAroo, stay tuned and I will let my adoring public know when they can own their very own piece of Wimsey.
Until next time,