September 12, 2014
Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, coming to you from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where fall weather just might be starting to creep into the seasonal rotation. This doesn’t mean that my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth have abandoned air conditioning me totally, since I like frosty conditions, but it appears likely that their electric bill will soon be in for a break. Just in time for a bout of Indian summer I think.
But first things first. Those of you who read last week’s post or took a look at Facebook know that at long last my lazy humans have gotten around to publishing my book (s) The Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art on Amazon and that a celebratory meal was planned. Although this was supposed to include a piece of poached salmon for me from the fancy fish store, it was decided instead to order a giant pizza with mushrooms and extra cheese. Well this was fantastic and there was drool aplenty, so it was a good thing that we ate in the yard. Or rather that I ate and my humans attempted to eat in between cutting up delectable morsels of pizza and hand feeding them to me. We famous authors should always be fêted and feasted as befits our stature as literary luminaries.
Elizabeth has just begun sending out press releases in the hopes of getting newspaper book reviewers to take a look at my masterpiece. The received wisdom on this is that these august personages do not review self-published books. However, my view of this is that none of these other self-published books ever had me in them. I mean who could resist me? Clearly no one on the Upper West Side. This week a lady crossed the street to tell Elizabeth that she lives down the street from me and always enjoys hearing me bay. And she didn’t even qualify it by adding, “Except when he meets Pluto at 6 am.” I am the toast of the town—it’s just that the rest of the town doesn’t know it yet.
Anyway, the (supposedly) impending fall weather brought Elizabeth’s StitchFix box which was much anticipated. StitchFix is an online personal shopping service that Elizabeth tasked with finding Hounding clothes for her (us) that were inexpensive (i.e. those that you don’t mind seeing splattered with drool and miscellaneous organic matter), washable and were not tee shirts and jeans. I closely supervised the opening of this box and I was not impressed. Not the least of which was because it turned out not to be a box of toys and snacks for me. The nerve.
Anyway, StitchFix sent a baggy blue tee shirt (I guess because the racks of them in Elizabeth’s closet were insufficient or they considered that baggy ones are more chic than those that actually give her a shape) which promptly went in the return bag. Next there was something dubbed a “knitted coat” that struck myself, Maria and Elizabeth (and trust me, we never all agree on anything) as perhaps the ugliest garment ever made. Where to begin. It was huge (it was a size small in the same way that I am size small when compared to a pony. OK, well maybe a horse)—little Elizabeth looked like she had been swallowed whole by a blueberry. The sleeves came beyond her fingertips and it had giant pockets on the hips, in a spot where no pockets should ever be. Then Maria, who is much taller tried it on and it was equally misshapen on her and by some fashion miracle, those pockets were still on her hips too and the sleeves hung down over what she likes to call “her monkey arms” (the better for reaching me when I do not wish to be reached). I was hoping that this item would end up in my toy pile but it too was sadly banished to the return bag.
Next, we had a pair of black leggings. OK, they are not jeans but same idea. Elizabeth kept those for which I am very grateful as I like the way my drool looks on black. Next we had this black and white woven faux sweatshirt thing which was a marginal upgrade from her blue fleece hoodie and finally, there was a messenger bag. This was requested as Elizabeth is going to experiment with abandoning the giant black fanny pack that she needs to carry because of all the stuff that I require when perambulating about town. Personally I think the bag is going to end up in a pile of poop when she bends over to scoop, but we will see.
Anyway, Maria is planning on ordering office clothes from StitchFix so I will have another box to inspect and critique. I was so inspired by all of this (I love fashion so long as it’s not me that’s wearing it) that I crashed New York Fashion Week which was going on behind me in this picture. I somehow managed to get onto the Lincoln Center Plaza and join a crowd of fashionistas exiting down a ramp, at the bottom of which were girls handing out fliers for an upcoming show. They were so busy staring at me that they forgot to give me my flier which I was cruelly prevented from obtaining on my own.
OK, so all that was pretty exciting, but there’s more! This coming Thursday Maria is going to visit her mother for a long weekend and I am going to visit Elizabeth for what will seem like a much longer weekend. At least for her. She has already done some serious shopping in the liquor store and broken out the bottle of Ambien from the medicine cabinet in anticipation. And better yet, I will be back for an entire week in October when Maria goes away on business to Chicago. We are going to have so much fun. Well I will, anyway.
So, from time to time (or all the time, depending on your point of view) humans do things so idiotic as to make it incredible that Hounds do not rule the earth. This latest example of human foolishness comes from a professor at Arizona State University who did a study and then published a paper on the astounding discovery that dogs prefer people who pet them to people who praise them. Now first off, Hounds do not listen to humans on any topic. Period, and secondly if a human is praising a Hound then the Hound has done something seriously unHound- like and could probably use a refresher course at the Wimsey School of Houndly Deportment. So for anyone who has not yet realized it, here are a few more items to add to that list:
Hounds prefer someone who feeds them to someone who pets them.
Hounds prefer someone who feeds them the lunch they are eating over someone who feeds them that rubbish in the kibble bag.
Hounds prefer someone who is inattentive about stuff left on a kitchen counter to someone who is vigilant about stuff left on a kitchen counter.
Hounds prefer someone who will chase them because of the stuff they stole that was left on the kitchen counter to someone who is too lazy to chase them because of the stuff they stole that was left on the kitchen counter.
Hounds prefer someone whose refrigerator door is easy to open to someone whose refrigerator door is padlocked.
Hounds prefer someone who they are able to shove off the couch to someone who gets up voluntarily.
Hounds prefer people who will sleep on the couch rather than disturb them when they are ensconced on the bed to bed hogs who will try to share the bed.
Hounds prefer messy people who leave items of clothing lying around to neat people who hide items of clothing behind closet doors or in closed drawers.
Hounds prefer people who think they are wonderful creatures to people who know that they are entitled and manipulative brats.
Well you get the idea—I could go on at length on this subject, but seriously, if a professor can get paid to do a study like that, what is next, a groundbreaking treatise on “”Dogs prefer to chase squirrels rather than to get a bath”?
Anyway, I am off to rest up for my stint of being the perfect houseguest (not).
Until next time,
Wimsey, The Pestatarian