tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72576320145784139492024-03-07T18:48:45.742-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan BloodhoundWimsey, a mischievous bloodhound who lives on the Upper West Side of Manhattan keeps an amusing diary of his activities and those of his human friends.Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15858278619497589286noreply@blogger.comBlogger367125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-85812343756716493232015-02-14T17:23:00.002-05:002015-02-14T17:23:59.091-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #370
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry # 370</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>February 14, 2015</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey. wishing you a Happy Valentine’s
and President's Day from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where the cold weather has done nothing
to<span> </span>slow the ardor of the City’s
Hound-loving public. I have been out and about <span> </span>this week much to the consternation of my
(well-bundled up) human Maria and her (Michelin Man look alike) friend Elizabeth.<span> </span>I too am suitably caparisoned in my Chilly
Dog winter coat which garners many compliments among the canine fashion cognoscenti
here in one of the world’s great style capitals.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NvSIeR13FEAk6ieW_GssgCZ243GgL9SRonJf6yOVOm3n5alsODMULrhyKsmmPXsFQP3xuYBmqL5i-Hh0lBPRM-HM6veFdHc5o9qbVJqMZqBcZzB8_z-sVdg-bJoLdgnMODZ8jFNj9vU/s1600/DSC04087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NvSIeR13FEAk6ieW_GssgCZ243GgL9SRonJf6yOVOm3n5alsODMULrhyKsmmPXsFQP3xuYBmqL5i-Hh0lBPRM-HM6veFdHc5o9qbVJqMZqBcZzB8_z-sVdg-bJoLdgnMODZ8jFNj9vU/s1600/DSC04087.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">My humans would love to pair the coat with a
pair of salt-resistant booties but this is just too much look in my view.<span> </span>There is also the small detail that no one is
getting anywhere near me with booties, fashionable or not. The current paw-protecting
regimen involves sneaking up on me when I am lying down and rubbing this waxy
stuff onto my pads whilst trying to distract me with a belly rub or
turkey.<span> </span>Success, as usual, depends on
how much I want the goods on offer.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sadly owing to the fact that my mouth is healed from recent
surgery, the coat and the Heinous Gentle Leader are back in play. However, my
humans have decided that since I like the soft Merrick canned food so much (and
now the Weruva samples that the nice lady in the pet shop provided) I will be
getting some canned food mixed in with the boring kibble.<span> </span>This is a welcome development and was almost
worth having <span> </span>the surgery for.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJf0ZPf9jYBKDqZ_mb8GOisFtnaYkxGppXupMYpwY25nfdq-yfkTbImK6omFvbgO598eC-9CY5aWCJxhV_Ux_D4mxBEWNMXN4mG_9Y-vDE1cJJlAbU-r0IvNaj_v9C6fo3Fn2Nl-vx3sE/s1600/20150201_135737_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJf0ZPf9jYBKDqZ_mb8GOisFtnaYkxGppXupMYpwY25nfdq-yfkTbImK6omFvbgO598eC-9CY5aWCJxhV_Ux_D4mxBEWNMXN4mG_9Y-vDE1cJJlAbU-r0IvNaj_v9C6fo3Fn2Nl-vx3sE/s1600/20150201_135737_resized.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now as many of you know, I am a finicky eater and like my food
custom-prepared to my exacting specifications. This also applies to the canned
food where any large chunks of meat must be broken up into more Wimsey-pleasing
pieces. So Elizabeth did this for me the other day but was seriously negligent
in the matter of the carrots. She was watching me eat my carefully curated
lunch (kibble, fresh boiled chicken breast, Merrick beef stew, roasted fresh
yam and some canned pumpkin) when I removed an offensively long baby carrot
from the mix and spat in on the floor. <span> </span>Now in my defense I did try to be cooperative
and eat the thing. I picked it up and rolled it around in my mouth several
times <span> </span>before concluding that its
dimensions were seriously displeasing. <span></span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJf0ZPf9jYBKDqZ_mb8GOisFtnaYkxGppXupMYpwY25nfdq-yfkTbImK6omFvbgO598eC-9CY5aWCJxhV_Ux_D4mxBEWNMXN4mG_9Y-vDE1cJJlAbU-r0IvNaj_v9C6fo3Fn2Nl-vx3sE/s1600/20150201_135737_resized.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJf0ZPf9jYBKDqZ_mb8GOisFtnaYkxGppXupMYpwY25nfdq-yfkTbImK6omFvbgO598eC-9CY5aWCJxhV_Ux_D4mxBEWNMXN4mG_9Y-vDE1cJJlAbU-r0IvNaj_v9C6fo3Fn2Nl-vx3sE/s1600/20150201_135737_resized.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The mouth feel was all wrong. The advantage of
demanding that one of your humans watch you eat is that they are available to
assist you in these types of culinary crises.<span>
</span>Elizabeth finally realized that some major intervention was called for
and broke the carrot in two and hand fed it to me. Once properly sized, the
carrot was easily consumed and I was able to resume my gustatory activities. I
don’t know how I am expected to eat carrots of the wrong shape. <span> </span>When Maria heard about this, she properly
admonished Elizabeth about the importance of not neglecting the carrots when
sizing my meal. <span> </span>I am hopeful that this <span> </span>experience will not be repeated. <span> </span>I sympathize with the nut-rage lady—I too am
passionate about good service. Other people’s.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">In other news, Elizabeth was at a conference on Monday and
Tuesday and Maria had to come home from work to walk me midday. I hate this.
Generally I feel that if I park myself on the couch and refuse to move Elizabeth
will appear as usual.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8ST1Tjt6m0VMq8hEbKa0ZdcmWUdb5BxvzKmKfl7s_ZGoo4lVO3et_w2WO50gXek-8UoCJsip_UCm8x8eKbfUGkxpD_NQtaqQGx-TighXOLThdOeJlZxYrbi0sWzTOR_j3ohHUJvkLe0/s1600/20150204_070131_resized-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8ST1Tjt6m0VMq8hEbKa0ZdcmWUdb5BxvzKmKfl7s_ZGoo4lVO3et_w2WO50gXek-8UoCJsip_UCm8x8eKbfUGkxpD_NQtaqQGx-TighXOLThdOeJlZxYrbi0sWzTOR_j3ohHUJvkLe0/s1600/20150204_070131_resized-3.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> And to add insult to injury Maria tried to apply my new
ear ointment. As if. Fortunately this meant that Elizabeth had to come over in
the evenings to attend to my various body parts and take me for a long
“make-up” walk. I am not a Hound whose wants are to be trifled with as anyone
who is on the receiving end of my “wrong human, go away” glare can attest.</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wJBTq7J-9JcSqF9C0vb7fo1t0wHyMK1PqpKKq6ykg_Nhohyphenhyphensz22GmHIJdQvTqVGlfcfk7pmc4JF4NUcmQOOTlMNPInmguJWluqWfa0xLMCm78bZYUEOcoIK75N3ip0Ta6ojJieGTxqk/s1600/DSC04187.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wJBTq7J-9JcSqF9C0vb7fo1t0wHyMK1PqpKKq6ykg_Nhohyphenhyphensz22GmHIJdQvTqVGlfcfk7pmc4JF4NUcmQOOTlMNPInmguJWluqWfa0xLMCm78bZYUEOcoIK75N3ip0Ta6ojJieGTxqk/s1600/DSC04187.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">After this, things <span> </span>fortunately
went back to normal, which is to say that Elizabeth picked me up the in
afternoon and took me to her place where I draped myself on the legs of her
office chair so she couldn’t move. I also like to wait until she is deeply
involved in her work to decide that I am now ready for my early evening walk.<span> </span>I then chivvy her to get ready, which fearing
an eliminatory emergency, she does with alacrity. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqtzgF9MKQ3ZfemwAUjHnB4O59FTegkTTBPcq7YEDm6KMmOAeJmLzUaWNDutsalvHfSb9iP06TAAzusSZIiKFzU5Rhcv5a6uuZ7ZUU-kfEhSqh6A_YBXl0CsLK5qb1a1ZB_m165sN8Vg/s1600/DSCN3839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqtzgF9MKQ3ZfemwAUjHnB4O59FTegkTTBPcq7YEDm6KMmOAeJmLzUaWNDutsalvHfSb9iP06TAAzusSZIiKFzU5Rhcv5a6uuZ7ZUU-kfEhSqh6A_YBXl0CsLK5qb1a1ZB_m165sN8Vg/s1600/DSCN3839.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">When she gets to the point
that she puts on her ski pants over her long johns (did I mention that my
humans don’t get a lot of dates?) I high tail it to the futon, ascend, and engage
in The Wimsey Mattress Meld.<span> </span>I require extensive
bribing to come down and allow the putting on of my walking equipment. Maria
meanwhile is racing home from work to join us when the irate text messages
begin flooding her inbox. I don’t know why Elizabeth complains—I do this to her
most every day but she always seems surprised at my perfidy. I guess she’s a
slow learner. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcwr9ZtOIXoa6-vyK4VKv0F8LpvBTg5pe_gQ5UsqYPg-Ax4fSVsazuidWbnXbd26okN6ya5r-9U1CSvuoT-vhze9T09Tj3hsQ_5YLAKTmGhPHMnFCgwZ12EaQOvPg2BKjwDLVYU1kk8s/s1600/IMG_20150201_140659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbcwr9ZtOIXoa6-vyK4VKv0F8LpvBTg5pe_gQ5UsqYPg-Ax4fSVsazuidWbnXbd26okN6ya5r-9U1CSvuoT-vhze9T09Tj3hsQ_5YLAKTmGhPHMnFCgwZ12EaQOvPg2BKjwDLVYU1kk8s/s1600/IMG_20150201_140659.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But fortunately the people who admire me on the street know
nothing about <span> </span>any of this and continue
to praise my apparent loving and genial disposition.<span> </span>I am a classic case of the iron fist inside
the velvet glove. Or velvet wrinkles.<span> </span>And
as usual this week my vocal skills have also been much admired-- although a
lady asked if I had a sore throat.<span> </span>She
thought that I was trying to bark and a throat ailment caused a bay, which
amused my humans. I was offended at the notion that my beautiful voice could be
thought to be a side effect of illness.<span>
</span>My baying, as you might imagine, causes quite a stir and the reactions to
it vary dramatically.<span> </span>There are the
people who run. There are the people who smile.<span>
</span>And there are the people who come to tell my humans that they hear me
all the time and wondered what was making that noise.<span> </span>People usually want to know why I am baying—probably
for reassurance that I am not about to do something violent.<span> </span>Everybody loves to hear me bay. Especially
me. Then there is the doorman on West End Avenue who himself bays whenever he
sees me and the superintendent of the building across the street who always
asks Elizabeth if she can get me to bay for him.<span> </span>Really, if my humans could “get me to do
something” I guarantee it wouldn’t involve baying. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Sadly my schedule is about to be disrupted again because
Monday and Tuesday is the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. My humans are
excited to be in attendance and we are all excited that I am not.<span> </span>Those of you who read this blog regularly
have heard tell of my in-ring show dog antics—everything from refusing to trot,
gaiting with my nose on the ground, refusing to stack, baying and of course
persistently trying to socialize with the lady Hounds. But I have devoted less
attention to the out of ring experience. Westminster is a benched show which
means that dogs are obligated to stay on their benches all day which meant that
my humans were obligated to try to keep me entertained all day.<span> </span>Not a simple task for an easily bored Hound
such as myself who is eager to be off following scent.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I would stand around in front of my crate, meeting and
greeting (sliming and baying) in between walks to the indoor potty area where I
was infamous for poking people in the tush (it’s tough to control a 130 pound
Hound <span> </span>amidst an abundance of highly accessible
tushes) and then sniffing the pen instead of eliminating in it. <span> </span>And since there was much that I wanted to do
that I was prevented from doing this necessitated an extensive amount of protest
baying which necessitates an extensive amount of in-between-bay head shakes
which necessitated an extensive amount of flying spit which necessitated an
extensive amount of apologizing on the part of my humans (or running). </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span> </span>I mean seriously, why
was I there if not to gratify the needs of my nose? <span> </span>The only positive thing was the scorn and
humiliation heaped upon my humans by the people showing normal dogs (i.e. not
bloodhounds and not me)—it was all “Control your dog!”<span> </span>And many years later my humans are still
trying to do just that. <span> </span>Equally
unsuccessfully of course, but not for want of trying. This was all especially
humiliating for Elizabeth who specializes in working with dominant breed
shelter dogs. <span> </span>But the thing is, those
dogs care, I don’t.<span> </span>Those of you who
have Hounds know what I am talking about—we are just not hierarchical canines.
It makes no difference to me whether you are an alpha or an omega, I am just
going to do what I want to do regardless. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">One of my favorite stories involves the time I disrupted an
entire photo shoot and a dominance-oriented guy who trained military dogs
stepped in to wrangle me. <span> </span>He clearly
thought the issue was Elizabeth’s incompetence.<span>
</span>My motto, “Wrangle not lest ye be wrangled” was much in evidence and at
the end of it we had one sweaty <span> </span>dominance trainer and one Hound who was still
doing just as he pleased. <span> </span>The guy handed
Elizabeth my leash and shook his head and said, “I just don’t understand. <span> </span>He doesn’t respond to intimidation or force
and he doesn’t work for food. How do you get him to do what you want?” The
answer is that you don’t. <span> </span>In my
experience, things go a lot more smoothly if you let me have my way. NB: I had
a very short career as a canine model. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well good luck to everyone at Westminster—better you than
me. My humans will be ringside cheering on the Hounds and admiring the
deportment of the regular dogs.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span> </span>In honor
of its being Valentine’s Day, another excerpt from The Wimsey Institute of
Houndish Art.<span> </span>The gorgeous lady Hound in
question is Phoebe who co-owns breeder, owner handler Karen Dewey with Garth
who will be at Westminster.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span> </span>Also this week, more
picture from my archive—although a few new ones too—owing to my humans’
laziness.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span>The Pre-Raphaelites
were a group of painters who admired the simplicity of the art of the early
15th century that existed before the era of the Renaissance painter Raphael,
whom they considered elaborate and theatrical. <b>Romeo and Juliet</b> (Ford
Madox Brown, 1870, <i>Delaware Art Museum,</i> Wilmington). Well, I mean Romeo
and Juliet are so old hat and their romance didn’t turn out very well, so I
think we can substantially enhance the appeal of this painting by adding a more
robust set of lovers—Hounds being rather unlikely to drink poison or stab themselves
with daggers, etc. (permitting our humans a small spot on the couch is about as
self-sacrificing as we get). See how the beautiful lady Hound (her name is
Phoebe, by the way) gazes out at us with such Houndly sagacity as the ardent
Wimsey intently drinks in every expression in her magnificent, droopy eyes. We
can see that at any moment he will caress her ponderous flew with his lengthy,
moist tongue. Was there ever such devotion! (“<i>Romeo and Juliet and Wimsey
and Phoebe”).</i></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, Everyone’s Valentine </span></span></div>
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</span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-90448182686439724742015-01-31T19:02:00.000-05:002015-01-31T19:02:19.355-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #369<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDdCRAE_9pgibonzY811xYzY895KsoQGg9vwKm6x8ZrvemzWGYfFoshvYbtAC3xnZyTeAdNLuz2xbzDr63LDxlztbJN3dFOI72wN2UsjcFoCMMoXNCAoVsqK7owXHLImBR4ciSGx4GcM/s1600/DSCN5873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDdCRAE_9pgibonzY811xYzY895KsoQGg9vwKm6x8ZrvemzWGYfFoshvYbtAC3xnZyTeAdNLuz2xbzDr63LDxlztbJN3dFOI72wN2UsjcFoCMMoXNCAoVsqK7owXHLImBR4ciSGx4GcM/s1600/DSCN5873.JPG" height="307" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Entry #369<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">January 31, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, once again coming to you
from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where apparently The Super Bowl is considered
a national holiday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My human Maria and
her friend Elizabeth are complaining that Fairway is looking a lot like
Thanksgiving, with lines out the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is especially annoying to them because it is the second time this
week that they have been trapped in supermarket hell (if Dante had only known
about Fairway…) because we had a faux blizzard to prepare for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the first (and I would argue, the
only) priority in blizzard preparations is making sure that I would have enough
food, both of them ended up wasting inordinate amounts of time preparing for a
few inches of delightful powder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never
underestimate the power of The Weather Channel to create a media frenzy---even
the folks at CNN are taking lessons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
yes, we know that it is far better to be overprepared than underprepared (at
least that is what my humans tell themselves after each climatorial wreaking of
non-havoc makes them feel silly) but coping with the disruption that I bring to
their lives is disruption enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And speaking of disruption, January has been nothing but,
hence my prolonged absence. First, of course, Elizabeth deserted me for a
conference in San Francisco where she got to swan around in clothes that did
not have my drool on them and did not smell like me and pretend that she always
looks like this. This meant that Maria had to come home from work in the middle
of the day to walk me since I usually spend the day over at Elizabeth’s
preventing her from working at her computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This in turn meant that it was my job to try to go to “Elizabeth’s”
apartment<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(really it’s mine based on the
sheer volume of my stuff with which it is filled) on every walk to check and
see if she was there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it was Maria’s
job to prevent this and to try to make me empty my bladder and bowels
instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The week did not go well. And
because I am a very astute Hound I know that if I want to annoy Maria, I ignore
her. Just like I know that if I want to annoy Elizabeth I don’t ignore her.
Well both my indoor and outdoor behavior were the subject of furious texts and
emails flying between New York and San Francisco and everyone wanted Elizabeth
home except Elizabeth. She was apparently enjoying the clothing thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well Elizabeth no sooner got home than I presented my humans
with another of my medical emergencies—this time a growth inside my mouth that
had to be surgically excised. So off we all trundled to see my long-suffering
surgeon at Blue Pearl who was commended by Elizabeth for not killing me with
anesthesia the last time and was encouraged to do likewise again.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Of course all the while this was going on the
papers were multiplying my humans’ work desks like rabbits, but nothing could
be done since I always takes priority.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuwO5MGwOkQjKATNzuZq2Mp5Ub0a0RFIWdXatRnL4o46ZzgsufHrb-A-OPuuc6EGeJ238Bem-nbD3TcubD5KlrldQMGgslt-hyDOfkyDyVg9FnyuTBT1K1L2ub5E6ocW0Atq-DLL-OU9Y/s1600/DSC02325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuwO5MGwOkQjKATNzuZq2Mp5Ub0a0RFIWdXatRnL4o46ZzgsufHrb-A-OPuuc6EGeJ238Bem-nbD3TcubD5KlrldQMGgslt-hyDOfkyDyVg9FnyuTBT1K1L2ub5E6ocW0Atq-DLL-OU9Y/s1600/DSC02325.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was pretty exciting to have surgery on a new body part
and oral surgery entails some significant benefits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First and foremost, the Heinous Gentle Leader
was banished. My winter coat likewise could not be used since getting it on and
off might disrupt the healing. Baths have been banned. And perhaps best of all,
I was not permitted to eat hard kibble. The ladies tried soaking the kibble in
homemade chicken broth from my boiled chicken breast, but I found its texture
displeasing so Maria high tailed it off to a pet shop and bought me every
flavor of Merrick canned dog food available. Apparently my majestic proportions
require the delivery of 7 cans of the stuff into the Wimsey gullet, a process
that I am enjoying very much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My humans
not so much as there has been a marked decrease in their indoor air quality and
an increase in the poop bags.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRxv6Mi8jm7OLblP5xsOSqimFbGeHMAu5oyyo0kHgZstnBLUUXWjzKy9-zlWEUuH7iT0W-VNgkYIOAcXa2kce83gw1ymVYmhZRJrxsjkOUvcU4yyWnKCLm80ZvVxYQ2ykMF-sn3CPW9g/s1600/DSC02038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWRxv6Mi8jm7OLblP5xsOSqimFbGeHMAu5oyyo0kHgZstnBLUUXWjzKy9-zlWEUuH7iT0W-VNgkYIOAcXa2kce83gw1ymVYmhZRJrxsjkOUvcU4yyWnKCLm80ZvVxYQ2ykMF-sn3CPW9g/s1600/DSC02038.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nevertheless, I am planning a huge hunger strike should I
ever be returned to naked kibble. And I nearly omitted to mention that since I
can’t have crunchy cookies on my walks either I have to be fed turkey at
regular intervals instead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Also, because I was not permitted to scratch my face, I had
to be delivered to Elizabeth’s first thing in the morning so I could be
observed at all times. I like being observed. I like it when my humans watch me
sleep. I like it when they watch me eat. I like it when they watch me chew my
bully sticks (of which I have been cruelly deprived during my
convalescence—even my beloved nubs have been banished!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pretty much took over January.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even more than I usually do which, even for
me, was an accomplishment. And sensing that my regular vet might feel
neglected, yesterday I started carrying on about my right ear to such an extent
that we all had to spend Friday evening getting my ears flushed out and
cultured. Again. A new supply of Positex has been laid in and my humans are
under the sad illusion (again) that they will be able to get the stuff into my
ear twice a day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZ3qDPHvI8boHeDzroSvBLqNMylB3zVQtb5huk7D5kXqEFKUkhxHiEKRG4P0oFSm9kkMFNt9Ve3qGXDQrkuZs0bo7f5t2hgNv_g2q5hGF_2A-RbLoU8CZSDNxvl-IQWRolJUPinKLu08/s1600/DSC02339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZ3qDPHvI8boHeDzroSvBLqNMylB3zVQtb5huk7D5kXqEFKUkhxHiEKRG4P0oFSm9kkMFNt9Ve3qGXDQrkuZs0bo7f5t2hgNv_g2q5hGF_2A-RbLoU8CZSDNxvl-IQWRolJUPinKLu08/s1600/DSC02339.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I should also mention that my activities have proven a major
boon to the local liquor store---Elizabeth in particular is on the verge of a
breakdown over the piled up work (clients being notoriously unsympathetic on
the subject of days spent observing the dog instead of working on their
projects). But it is a fitting punishment for her leaving, especially for a
conference that has nothing to do with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think this should be remedied:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7CAmpSiOi9ZO18aHH90bYayi4ANl-UYiLiIwW2Stv3eR5JOfrlf_5NKcSfBjSpaF0sdmemGRlPWVfdRImFHvOEcRjiUTUbExAdewQc_Fi2VrcwmZmOcWjh1fXLlPR8dhi8WfJ36huuc/s1600/DSCN6806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7CAmpSiOi9ZO18aHH90bYayi4ANl-UYiLiIwW2Stv3eR5JOfrlf_5NKcSfBjSpaF0sdmemGRlPWVfdRImFHvOEcRjiUTUbExAdewQc_Fi2VrcwmZmOcWjh1fXLlPR8dhi8WfJ36huuc/s1600/DSCN6806.JPG" height="242" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Featured Talks at
Wimsey’s Bloodhound Conference<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Plenary Session: The Bloodhound. Why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Why Can’t I Train My Bloodhound But He Can Train Me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cutting a Bloodhound’s Nails: An Owner’s Guide to
Tranquilizer Darts and Other Anesthetics<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Rock Gardens, Cacti and Sand: Solutions to the Landscaping
Bloodhound<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My Bloodhound Thinks I’m an Idiot. Is He Right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Life Lessons Learned From My Bloodhound: How To Get Your Way
All the Time Without Anyone Noticing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Best Food for a Bloodhound: Yours<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ten Tenths of the Law: The Thieving Bloodhound-- Criminal
Genius or Misunderstood Miscreant?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFd2tWEQsY_DUQ7cKZWutXHD_40QJCWjTEyuFptqbK98nbCg7pqwMDTQIDb0Va1j1x1nAwBpBLwmHZ0UTITvq2OtcqIEOL_hQ4jwE1BMd-S1PhInW5UpHTXHPUkEF0UomY5G9vbXtfuc/s1600/DSCN3773.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzFd2tWEQsY_DUQ7cKZWutXHD_40QJCWjTEyuFptqbK98nbCg7pqwMDTQIDb0Va1j1x1nAwBpBLwmHZ0UTITvq2OtcqIEOL_hQ4jwE1BMd-S1PhInW5UpHTXHPUkEF0UomY5G9vbXtfuc/s1600/DSCN3773.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Quiet, Well-Behaved Bloodhound and Other Canine Myths
That Make Us Feel Inadequate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fashion Workshop: Plastic, Latex and Vinyl Are The New Black<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Marrying the Vet: A Complete, Cost Effective Strategy for
Bloodhound Health<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Bloodhound Facial Wrinkles: An Evolutionary Adaptation for
Gathering Scent or for Getting Off Scot Free<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Stubborn, Entitled and Obnoxious or Effective,
Self-Actualizing and Goal Oriented?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Round Table Discussion: Is it Possible to Have a Bloodhound
and Have A Life?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Cocktail Reception to follow hosted by Tanqueray.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well you get the idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anyway, I apologize for having to use photos from my copious
archive—apparently my humans can’t be bothered to take their hands out of their
gloves when the temperature falls below 35. Wimps!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6_huc1ZyWbmjTYRCeVrM-7x-2Rm_V3XmNhQQ-GWBeqfFf4lWZbBxbpqIES50eZb7n3cOLsE3Gk9cF8FcbiPnwYXXyErHuYghjUUgaz_BcVPnesfAK22ToTGYEibOXKMRKtfiyc6oJxQ/s1600/P1060265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6_huc1ZyWbmjTYRCeVrM-7x-2Rm_V3XmNhQQ-GWBeqfFf4lWZbBxbpqIES50eZb7n3cOLsE3Gk9cF8FcbiPnwYXXyErHuYghjUUgaz_BcVPnesfAK22ToTGYEibOXKMRKtfiyc6oJxQ/s1600/P1060265.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But there is this picture from a few weeks ago when the
Metropolitan Museum of Art was having an expo on Madame Cezanne. In honor of
that, here is my Madame Cezanne entry from The Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art
(available on Amazon!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBxmc5VKGlyf51X0jOWRIkJ7e1oretI62vxB-Cd74fZbjb7hddLc5jyoY3EMyS65D0eRY06fz3Y70yANOYl_Xm8mHnJUs0Hed1F9Osrl_qDfLL6Vwu67oF5ypU8EPWhPnTGb4uDytuwo/s1600/MadameCezanneinaRedArmchair2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBxmc5VKGlyf51X0jOWRIkJ7e1oretI62vxB-Cd74fZbjb7hddLc5jyoY3EMyS65D0eRY06fz3Y70yANOYl_Xm8mHnJUs0Hed1F9Osrl_qDfLL6Vwu67oF5ypU8EPWhPnTGb4uDytuwo/s1600/MadameCezanneinaRedArmchair2.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Both Picasso and Matisse described
Cezanne as “the father of us all” for creating the foundation of modern art.
However in this early painting, <b>Madame Cezanne in a Red Chair</b>, (Paul
Cezanne 1877, <i>Boston Museum of Fine Art</i>, Boston) there is just the hint
of Cezanne’s future preoccupation with viewing the world through different
planes. But we can see here the remarkable juxtaposition of patterns that must
have delighted Matisse (whose specialty patterns were), as well as wonderful,
small brush strokes that build to a geometrical whole. We can sense the
solidity and almost monumental quality of Madame Cezanne which is enhanced by
her off center positioning in the chair; and we can almost feel her weight as
she leans on its arm. Cezanne painted more than thirty pictures of her and she
was required to sit immobile for hours. We think that this must have been
extremely boring for her, not to mention that in this painting her broad, empty
lap and the large arm chair just beg to be filled with something both beautiful
and entertaining. But what could that be? Yes! A Magnificent Hound, draped
comfortably and diminutively in her lap so as not to overpower her fine figure!
I am sure her face looks much happier now. And the Hound has lifted his head in
an interrogative way as if to express Madame Cezanne’s sentiments of “aren’t
you done yet?” (“<i>Madame Cezanne and Wimsey in a Red Armchair”).</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEGzpmYDLLDKdlWe_zNcWlZHfJz9rrWSjOaIDFqA-9hlB2hxkN3GxERyAp3jElwaIimtRzehSLUrzZqvj9wCgwtV2oIJz8QzoZ9hDOVwiUzhyphenhyphenx2Qto6YTbQ0h7B0W4SDNIF9bOCSwjJw/s1600/DSCN0671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEGzpmYDLLDKdlWe_zNcWlZHfJz9rrWSjOaIDFqA-9hlB2hxkN3GxERyAp3jElwaIimtRzehSLUrzZqvj9wCgwtV2oIJz8QzoZ9hDOVwiUzhyphenhyphenx2Qto6YTbQ0h7B0W4SDNIF9bOCSwjJw/s1600/DSCN0671.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well I think I will leave it there for this week. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Until next time,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Wimsey, The Hound that Ate January<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-75156173007987605782015-01-02T20:08:00.001-05:002015-01-02T20:08:22.973-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #368<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Entry # 368</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>January 2, 2015</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello and Happy New Year Everyone! It’s me Wimsey, finally
having a few minutes to post about all my doings here on Manhattan’s Upper West
Side where the holidays have disrupted my schedule to an amazing degree. Where
to begin?<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">There are so many ways that I have been inconvenienced and
so little time to enumerate them all. First, owing to the fact that the
holidays fell on a Thursday, my human Maria’s employer decided to bow to the
inevitable and close the office both Fridays (I guess he realized it would be
tough to supervise from St. Barth’s). The 4-day weekends, plus some vacation
days added up to a 12-day stretch where Maria was around to take care of me
full time. Now some of you might think that this would please me. It did
not.<span> </span>Her selfish, extended holiday meant
that there was no need for her friend Elizabeth to pick me up for our endless
afternoons spent walking around so I can visit pet shops, food trucks and the
park benches where people try to eat (all while I take care of minimal amounts
of business). And what’s worse, it meant that I haven’t been hanging out with
Elizabeth in my secondary apartment getting fed fancy lunches and bothering her
when she tries to work.<span> </span>And I am sure
alien dogs have been savaging my toy pile while I have been gone. I will be
taking an extensive sniffventory when I am finally able to return.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBX9aHIqvpzHIGSysttEh-f9btnG3mEoOs_vT7FKCJQdADqa3sc_GnctxaarwJeKRj2k05B01MoY9H37uMFDq_TZ9j3ZfDvLTktjy7VmCYwFGHhyphenhyphen9bkZenoowQpO-um8HTusFSROxLA3g/s1600/P1060338.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBX9aHIqvpzHIGSysttEh-f9btnG3mEoOs_vT7FKCJQdADqa3sc_GnctxaarwJeKRj2k05B01MoY9H37uMFDq_TZ9j3ZfDvLTktjy7VmCYwFGHhyphenhyphen9bkZenoowQpO-um8HTusFSROxLA3g/s1600/P1060338.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>I have become a one human Hound. I know you all feel my
pain, but it gets worse. Elizabeth’s monster project is just going to go on and
on and even when I am around she spends her days staring at her computer
instead of scratching me. And my joy at the fact that she is not going to leave
me to travel on her birthday the third week in January this year was
overshadowed by the fact that she leaves a week from Sunday for a week’s
conference in San Francisco and apparently this conference is not about
me.<span> </span>Maria is going to have to rush home
from work that week to give me a measly hour walk in the afternoons. But I had
my revenge. Right after Elizabeth booked her ticket she had a dream that I was
sitting in the seat next to her eating a tray of airline food.<span> </span>I will not allow her to escape me, even when
she sleeps.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-_hnQGmGSxJtdtftaBGVtk2CpiLbpEFWe5aR6vhekYLFMBaC7U9PmItlvFheb9Zh6T40BA4L4PXvTxGA5TX-QVDaWYxSuU0amBQnmaiIes9-aztfXvxc1_WNFIgnLQeJfrDslSEef58/s1600/P1060330.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-_hnQGmGSxJtdtftaBGVtk2CpiLbpEFWe5aR6vhekYLFMBaC7U9PmItlvFheb9Zh6T40BA4L4PXvTxGA5TX-QVDaWYxSuU0amBQnmaiIes9-aztfXvxc1_WNFIgnLQeJfrDslSEef58/s1600/P1060330.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>But this talk of “monster” projects put me in mind of
something that happened before Christmas. Maria had come over to Elizabeth’s
after work so we could all go out for my early evening walk but Elizabeth was
still sitting at her computer working.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Maria</b>: Wimsey’s
picked up a toy from his toy pile.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Elizabeth:</b> Which
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Maria</b>: Monster
(yes, I have a toy called “Monster.” He’s named after me)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Elizabeth:</b> Uh oh.
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Maria:</b> Why?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Elizabeth:</b> You’ll
see. Or rather you’ll hear.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Maria:</b> (a few
minutes later) Oh. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I take Teddy Roosevelt’s advice to heart--I walk softly and
carry a loud toy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Monster is my loudest toy and when I am really cheesed off I
take him up on the futon and squeak him (although “squeak” doesn’t adequately
describe the noise he makes) until a human does or gives me whatever it was
that prompted me to consort with Monster in the first place.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOIapg2_LeEyBMia4ECQNmOw6zOaeby5jTvLaHvNiPEER_Bn8KOUGvC_zUUm6PTyWnllVUBqyClV3QLqu74i8YIkop6cWCmKfwBKPjVTcymX0nPgJLrbUeGiU15Z8W2gU6AgZhaveW_FE/s1600/P1060315.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOIapg2_LeEyBMia4ECQNmOw6zOaeby5jTvLaHvNiPEER_Bn8KOUGvC_zUUm6PTyWnllVUBqyClV3QLqu74i8YIkop6cWCmKfwBKPjVTcymX0nPgJLrbUeGiU15Z8W2gU6AgZhaveW_FE/s1600/P1060315.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, I hope everyone had a good Christmas and New Year’s.
Maria cooked me a special Christmas Eve lunch of sausage, egg and cheese which
I was too busy napping to eat until Elizabeth came over to join us for a walk
which meant that she had to sit around and scratch me for an hour whilst I
digested.<span> </span>This caused me to get some
dirty looks from my humans who are convinced that I did it on purpose because I
know that I can’t be walked after eating because it can cause bloat. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10HRlEQDAcADPE1r2eLy33njhrVjudHZdAdlRsy37MD3WfhaL_K-GfCrEQr594WL6OgZ1SBxz7jJJMM0kZZRfr-gN1FQ-wokCErxyHVYVkQzk84NLf_O-jVNW_C2L06Hd1ADcAHJ6nYM/s1600/P1060328.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi10HRlEQDAcADPE1r2eLy33njhrVjudHZdAdlRsy37MD3WfhaL_K-GfCrEQr594WL6OgZ1SBxz7jJJMM0kZZRfr-gN1FQ-wokCErxyHVYVkQzk84NLf_O-jVNW_C2L06Hd1ADcAHJ6nYM/s1600/P1060328.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>So then I got up on the couch between them because nothing
facilitates social conversation so much as looking at a giant, Hound body
instead of the person with whom you are speaking. This led Maria to slightly
adjust her position so she could see Elizabeth, which caused me to slightly
adjust my position so she could not see Elizabeth.<span> </span>Which led her to adjust her position which
led me to adjust my position, etc. which led Elizabeth to conclude that maybe I
am not as dumb as she thinks I am.<span> </span>It
was kind of the couch variant of me staring into the rear view mirror during
our road trips so the only thing Elizabeth could see behind her was Hound head.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But I am really quite a clever Hound, even if it is only me
who thinks so. Over the past few weeks I managed to teach Elizabeth a new
trick. When she tries to lure me off the furniture with turkey in order to
leash me up I insist on having a piece of turkey before I even contemplate
getting off the furniture (to eat another piece of turkey) while she puts on my
stuff. We behaviorists call this a sampling reinforcer and before you could say
“gobble, gobble gobble”, I had trained her to thus double my turkey quotient. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkz4eRXCPG2_vQDiNptfu6K1uCB4aMWWj8N4J3Gu8wa1rZK40hyJwdA2IsE9jWz2972tfR8g4630BSHtGUyroGZrjBR1tIciEV9CsskK9Vc42Ly36A2cibjgCLHKVicbqpiZ0aKSoUQ6o/s1600/P1060317.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkz4eRXCPG2_vQDiNptfu6K1uCB4aMWWj8N4J3Gu8wa1rZK40hyJwdA2IsE9jWz2972tfR8g4630BSHtGUyroGZrjBR1tIciEV9CsskK9Vc42Ly36A2cibjgCLHKVicbqpiZ0aKSoUQ6o/s1600/P1060317.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>I’ve always been a gifted trainer of humans—it’s why I am so
popular with them and why texts and emails with HBO words fly between Maria and
Elizabeth when I am around.<span> </span>It also
leads to Elizabeth turning herself into something of a human webcam. She sends
Maria a continuous stream of exciting news such as “Sir is snoring on the
futon,” and “Sir is snoring by the closets” and “Sir just had water and smeared
his snout on my pants,” and “I can’t breathe! —I must have put too much butter
on his yams again” No wonder she never gets any work done. Of course there was
that day that we had a bad nor’easter with pouring rain and I decided that I
wished to take a nice, long walk and came in after only an hour, not because we
looked like we had been taking a shower, but because when we turned north the
wind was blowing too much rain into my face. Then there are other days,
principally when my humans actually want me to walk and to take care of
business, that I decide that I might melt in a passing shower, and decline to
move. Hence it is very little wonder that I have a namesake called Monster (and
like me he is loud, smelly, trips people and is vastly inconvenient).</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PwpDFfNvnuBe-_G65-99QfjBv6HmyVqZZxmVRhBfUOOca_eFm0fa2p9cHuC435QxRzOa3K96euRvcNDgNx8hAp_0AWJ06EYfoRt746k9ZRtiy39f5i-fMicbt0pV8a0GYtZ-raWLSlk/s1600/P1060320.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PwpDFfNvnuBe-_G65-99QfjBv6HmyVqZZxmVRhBfUOOca_eFm0fa2p9cHuC435QxRzOa3K96euRvcNDgNx8hAp_0AWJ06EYfoRt746k9ZRtiy39f5i-fMicbt0pV8a0GYtZ-raWLSlk/s1600/P1060320.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>I can generally tell how annoying I’ve been by how much
alcohol gets consumed and how many sweaters Elizabeth buys (some people have
sex, drugs and rock n’ roll and she has woolovers.com). When I’ve been<span> </span>“difficult “I find her studying the Woolovers
catalog and pretending that I am not there. But she has now turned her
attention to winter hats—a box of these things is now on its way from Turtle
Fur and we are all going to try them on and select the ones we like (like any
addict, Elizabeth is always trying to get others hooked—she’s constantly
encouraging Maria to buy sweaters). Who knew I was a Gateway Hound?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But speaking of alcohol (and no, Maria’s Mother, your daughter
does not drink to excess---the four times a day she’s attached to me by a leash
tends to put a damper on the overconsumption of adult beverages)-- although
Elizabeth had to work most days, she came over for holiday drinks. This is an
activity that pleases me very much. It consists of:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">2 large Aperol Spritzes (aperol, prosecco and a splash of
club soda)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1 I large nut-loving Hound</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAau-F8-5zePkTRHsc_1lmJxHqQfilujlthCPMsAE9MzskpZQY-2ose_3uDHyIHOl-IzEVuJ9oLbIBTy7ka8lsoB1KKb93N4tpAAI1OEodWwpViuuw-DIhyT44DDdHpUGV3z7YZjjGQYo/s1600/P1060326.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAau-F8-5zePkTRHsc_1lmJxHqQfilujlthCPMsAE9MzskpZQY-2ose_3uDHyIHOl-IzEVuJ9oLbIBTy7ka8lsoB1KKb93N4tpAAI1OEodWwpViuuw-DIhyT44DDdHpUGV3z7YZjjGQYo/s1600/P1060326.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>As you might imagine, cocktails with the ladies is a very
elegant affair. It requires that Elizabeth shroud herself in a bath towel
because no matter where she positions the canister of nuts I position my snout
to rain drool upon her (she being the Wimsey Nut-Feeder-in-Chief).<span> </span>Those of you who think that she is being
fastidious, think again. Both my humans are constantly covered in my drool--
flung at them, smeared on them and dripped on them—but the Nut Drool is
special. It is constant and it is copious. It cannot be evaded, avoided or
stopped. It raineth down like manna from heaven (or Hound, which I like to
think is pretty much the same thing, although I am sure that my humans have
another destination in mind).<span> </span>And we
have such a lovely time, although Elizabeth gets scolded for picking out all
the almonds to feed to me,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, there is a vicious rumor going around that we all
might congregate at Elizabeth’s on Sunday and that a bath might be
involved.<span> </span>Also cocktails (a mandatory
part of recovering from bathing me), a pot of chicken (for me), nuts (for me) a
new stuffed toy (for me) and a box of Turtle Fur hats (not supposed to be for
me but I will do my best. Have you ever noticed how much woolen winter hats
resemble dog toys?) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well, I think I will leave it there for now. I have to think
about what I want from San Francisco. An earthquake??? Might be a tough one.
Next week I will be back with Elizabeth—I know how much she misses me by the
ridiculous number of times she texts Maria to find out what I am doing.<span> </span>Maria has threatened to bring me over. Of
course this afternoon, Maria texted Elizabeth “Wimsey’s being a jerk” which
pretty much means “ Wimsey’s here.” It makes me proud to be a Hound.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_EOb73MeBEQ5av5jwbh0du3SzQOuzEB_0Do94tZjByJo9al3rHma3WMq8jER7B0gfn1VqnjGJOWZxkUn539nBMldGeuysNhAaqDhIwknWRScGHg1ItdX0cVyfJoEvw19aPgQMmDKgsI/s1600/P1060342.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_EOb73MeBEQ5av5jwbh0du3SzQOuzEB_0Do94tZjByJo9al3rHma3WMq8jER7B0gfn1VqnjGJOWZxkUn539nBMldGeuysNhAaqDhIwknWRScGHg1ItdX0cVyfJoEvw19aPgQMmDKgsI/s1600/P1060342.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Wimsey, absence makes the heart grow fonder—it’s my presence
that's the problem</span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-39063756443504367542014-12-06T18:08:00.002-05:002014-12-06T18:08:14.209-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #367
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #367</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>December 6, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">(There are a lot of pictures this week towards the end of the post so don't despair of not seeing enough of me)!</span></i> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey coming to you from
Manhattan’s Upper West Side where the Christmas season has officially begun! The
season brings with it a plethora of humans carrying packages that I wish to
inspect and that my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth wish me not to
inspect.<span> </span>Much has been made in these and
other cybersites about the many admirable (or not, depending on whether you are
a human or a Hound) characteristics of the bloodhound but I think it is worth taking
a moment to explore another: we are major busybodies. Anywhere there is human activity
there is an inquisitive Hound (and his even more inquisitive nose) wishing to determine
the cause of the activity and evaluate its possibilities for active participation
and benefit.<span> </span>In my case, this includes
but is not limited to:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">People carrying bags, purses, luggage, backpacks, carryalls
or wearing clothing with pockets.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Construction work of any kind, but especially sites where
there are construction workers to admire and pet me and to create those pop up
urinals in the form of barriers, cones and mesh fences that I so enjoy</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">People sitting in cars who always look like they could use a
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sharing Hound</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Toursits visitng museums whose clothing exudes fasinating
“out of towner” scents that must be thoroughly (and I mean thoroughly) investigated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And of course my humans trying to cook, work, talk on the
phone, read, watch TV, use the computer, use the bathroom or have a life. (This
is especially true when they are together trying to collaborate on something
other than me)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">My humans have always believed that my motto is “If you have
it, I want it” (they even had it translated into Latin so it would sound more
official) but I feel this should be augmented by the more plebian “Whatcha
doin’” and ‘Whatcha got there.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, this Monday was a bath day and I apparently outdid
myself in porcupining Elizabeth’s bathroom—furious texts were flying to Maria
about how every available surface was now covered in Hound hair. I then added
to the fun by consuming my freshly boiled chicken and four cups of kibble with
so much enthusiasm that I threw them all up on the carpet. But at least I was
clean.<span> </span>For 48 hours.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now last week’s post discussed what it was like to spend a
day with me when I was in a “mood.” But one of the (many) great things about
being a Hound is that I have several different “moods” and Thursday this manifested
itself by being in a mood to spend the day in Central Park. The weather was
ideal—it was in the low forties and cloudy when the annoying sun eventually
went away and resulted in a day of unsurpassed and fabulous gloom.<span> </span>Fortunately, Elizabeth’s “to do” list for the
day included a large number of things that she preferred not to do, especially
when compared with the alternative of perambulating about the park with
me.<span> </span>This week, therefore I have decided
to do a photo post about our day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But before I begin, let me say that the denizens of New York
City are very excited about Nathan the bloodhound’s win in Philadelphia. This
prompted Maria to do some genealogical research and to discover that my
grandfather, Ramsey Creek’s No Time to Lose is also Nathan’s great grandfather!
Now when people come up to us and start sentences with “Did you see…” my humans
chime in and proudly announce that Nathan and I related. Hopefully this makes
up for all the drool I deposited on their nice clothing. In a city known for
small dogs wearing designer duds, it turns out that lots of folks are excited
that a “real dog” won a televised dog show. In fact one of the most frequent
comments I hear on the street—after those about my size, my cuteness and those
of the “who’s walking who” variety-- relate to me being “a real dog.”<span> </span>My humans are never quite sure what this means
but I know that they often wish that I were a lot less real.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9NeYYcq7ckE1yE2mYx-kZXSxGaBX842d9wSxfaDviNmgdVMFY4rG1osLH0O8iABU0gCLLWUVv5n8MYvCAwBafpklq-aUbvnEoiGY17zkgbQMYmejH3TpUY1Tc4t7wrbgdrI995T6dLg/s1600/P1060237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">OK on to the pictures.<span>
</span>The first couple are actually from Sunday and show me with the Frenchie
puppy Lola whom I adore.<span> </span>She is tiny,
even for a Frenchie and I make frequent attempts to inhale her.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQJ66GLk463sVScQzDF_aSgdeYpMo7a1B_hcPDzhPcN3W-P4ITeARru3m1Pj4oGPCeKbmTgmKeXNuQuIXr5V67FSVAXZA4vNOVbnBAlZcMukXBUFnwMRJ1DFF0M9Dk65JLRgK0u5XZmw/s1600/P1060234.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQJ66GLk463sVScQzDF_aSgdeYpMo7a1B_hcPDzhPcN3W-P4ITeARru3m1Pj4oGPCeKbmTgmKeXNuQuIXr5V67FSVAXZA4vNOVbnBAlZcMukXBUFnwMRJ1DFF0M9Dk65JLRgK0u5XZmw/s1600/P1060234.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9NeYYcq7ckE1yE2mYx-kZXSxGaBX842d9wSxfaDviNmgdVMFY4rG1osLH0O8iABU0gCLLWUVv5n8MYvCAwBafpklq-aUbvnEoiGY17zkgbQMYmejH3TpUY1Tc4t7wrbgdrI995T6dLg/s1600/P1060237.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO9NeYYcq7ckE1yE2mYx-kZXSxGaBX842d9wSxfaDviNmgdVMFY4rG1osLH0O8iABU0gCLLWUVv5n8MYvCAwBafpklq-aUbvnEoiGY17zkgbQMYmejH3TpUY1Tc4t7wrbgdrI995T6dLg/s1600/P1060237.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_wQi2FMEikGPEfV3HsKcYOvCbY8x2Y4di3_GtknGVri5LDnU0mHUtBpSGHwUcxm8CdQ_DxTbAEp-wM7wWKnlgvQI0rXYsMA91WK_jB4ZyoBY2dg2dEDyvzN6nMkD1mcc71SAS_icPljM/s1600/P1060238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> Next, we ran into my friend Phineas the Ibizan Hound and his
humans.<span> </span>We met him and his male human
when he was just a puppy several years ago and we used to run in to him quite a
lot, but now his evening walks and dog run activities are further north.<span> </span>I am sure the guy would be mortified to know
that in spite of all the time we’ve spent together the only name by which my
humans know him is “Phineas’ human.”<span> </span>As
is the case when Hounds congregate, getting one to pose is an achievement and getting
two to pose at the same time is a miracle. It was a lovely visit and I even
behaved politely by actually consuming the proffered treat and not spitting it
out in disdain.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Hello Phineas! What’s this over here? It’s more interesting
than you."</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"Not interested."</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"A snack? Now you have my attention!"</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Here I am at the Boat House Café. Having finished annoying
the people trying to eat along the railing. I am now refusing to move until I
get a tuna sandwich—it’s been three weeks since I had one!</span></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclAjBxTXb1jkT77ObSiagzWmvkNo0iwy6gRBJJqpjGz8T4SzVoAFD-8h5IOaBQwh4EIibSAZK_C1GrugJ_dbg5fz2BiTpKRz5_fYLNuNjxT8nT6ngCtcm2AyO2lI8Va26QI4zncgVBJ0/s1600/P1060247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjclAjBxTXb1jkT77ObSiagzWmvkNo0iwy6gRBJJqpjGz8T4SzVoAFD-8h5IOaBQwh4EIibSAZK_C1GrugJ_dbg5fz2BiTpKRz5_fYLNuNjxT8nT6ngCtcm2AyO2lI8Va26QI4zncgVBJ0/s1600/P1060247.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Next, “Not gonna look at the camera.”</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> <i> “Still not gonna look at the camera.”</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ne5nIUwQWWNedNeAnSYOKKt75DaTXDLCru_1hC1tqTl9OsIR-gJ3Z5nbDCyJNngXQAICtIzfbVlAWH49jSC0E2vAif3kie-nLqgb0s5nyjZUuEvFmRPkFR8HXRX4Hul02KhUd7qHfM0/s1600/P1060248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Ne5nIUwQWWNedNeAnSYOKKt75DaTXDLCru_1hC1tqTl9OsIR-gJ3Z5nbDCyJNngXQAICtIzfbVlAWH49jSC0E2vAif3kie-nLqgb0s5nyjZUuEvFmRPkFR8HXRX4Hul02KhUd7qHfM0/s1600/P1060248.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“How about a nostril shot?”</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I’m not really looking at the camera. There’s a dog behind you.”</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I'm still not looking at the camera. I'm watching Maria act like an
idiot trying to get my attention. I think this shot makes me look exceptionally
intelligent. Especially when compared to Maria.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Now for Thursday.<span> </span>The
Metropolitan Museum of Art has finally unveiled its newly designed plaza so I
decided to take Elizabeth over there to check it out.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is a new giant, fancy drinking bowl that I will
investigate more this summer. I look rather irate because I was being forced to
stop my exploration for this picture.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“One dog. Hold the mustard!” What would a museum visit be
without checking out the food trucks?<span>
</span>Also I was able to demonstrate my public spiritedness by cleaning up the
area around the trucks.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">OK, a tongue shot. Cuter than a nostril shot and besides
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Still not looking at the camera but this is as good as you
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Time for a water break. Whenever I want a drink I go over to
a fountain. When the parks department turns off the fountains for the winter my
humans have to carry water canisters for me. Hydrating a Hound is essential to
his comfort and inimical to theirs.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So Central Park is covered in all these fragrant dried
leaves and I spent quite a bit of time with my nose glued to the ground.<span> </span>The fact that this field happens to be
adjacent to a snack shop was a total coincidence.</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So don’t all dogs sit with their posteriors parked on this
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If you want me to get off of this bench anytime soon fork
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Still here. I’m serious. </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Moving away will not cause me to jump off and follow you.<span> </span>This is a serious turkey face.</span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is the way home.<span>
</span>I do not wish to go home. You can tell that by the fact that I am not
moving.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>This is still the way home. I am seriously displeased.</i> </span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If we cross the street we will not be going home.</span></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdatK3yBARpxxkVL1e0yo63Hj6S6eiGTymIA3h7hmFvKudbw9c6N6Wf_dr9fLL9XSq_0v6FqZY5EfMZ8isnynFdOxvOre_PZdAfp_wVOSQpB9ziMPyeXV37KYhiorCwpWDmNOOWuQZyc/s1600/P1060296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdatK3yBARpxxkVL1e0yo63Hj6S6eiGTymIA3h7hmFvKudbw9c6N6Wf_dr9fLL9XSq_0v6FqZY5EfMZ8isnynFdOxvOre_PZdAfp_wVOSQpB9ziMPyeXV37KYhiorCwpWDmNOOWuQZyc/s1600/P1060296.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Really? You’re not going to cross the street with me?</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Notice the lady behind me—she has been watching our slow and
laborious turkey-induced progress. Or lack thereof. She is amused and is just
about to take a picture of me being obstinate. Which is to say, she is about to
take a picture of me.</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, this lovely walk consumed the afternoon but it
really was good fun. For me. And Elizabeth got the best possible excuse for not
doing the things she was supposed to do.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I think I will leave it there for now.<span> </span>For those of you who don’t live amongst
Christmas tree vendors here is a picture featuring the tempting gauntlet that I
am forced to run on all my walks?<span> </span>Those
fragrant trees just call out for my attentions…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw71NXkf4Cd8In3ndkwxE32kgAaj_qhPX_s3XDAle6nBm_W8GiAVfZj5aw49AI3ze1V_OaQ7dhPRiriiSoK3rj_Gfp_BVU-Lo9XwbwUOfNUMhJMwu4MwaGmjfDNT0X2ZW-83SyFfiD5ek/s1600/P1060313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw71NXkf4Cd8In3ndkwxE32kgAaj_qhPX_s3XDAle6nBm_W8GiAVfZj5aw49AI3ze1V_OaQ7dhPRiriiSoK3rj_Gfp_BVU-Lo9XwbwUOfNUMhJMwu4MwaGmjfDNT0X2ZW-83SyFfiD5ek/s1600/P1060313.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Oh and if I get a bit silent social media wise in December
it’s because Elizabeth, who is my amanuensis and scribe (as well as being my
cook, chauffeur and maid of all work) just signed up a project with yet another
insanely short time frame.<span> </span>So while
everyone else is out enjoying themselves for Christmas, she will be glued to
her computer writing things that are not about me—a situation which I find
abhorrent. <span> </span>Almost as abhorrent as the
seasonal headgear and jingly ruff which are threatening to make their annual
appearance from the back of her closet.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, a Picture Perfect Hound</span></span></div>
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</span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-52241270795339621592014-11-29T20:42:00.004-05:002014-11-29T20:42:47.717-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #366<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa05ExbhgEEi433Sp0X3rzK0BXPk9-qVgtMESdGAnJfT7FegPpjMMUCsmEsDUsnYsCXDS3K6glGiOR2NVp0TkktzUW3W1n3ow1-kY2tmlEtvi2x81D2b7zsU6w3hwrXUn8-dqS1sUWbU/s1600/P1060222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa05ExbhgEEi433Sp0X3rzK0BXPk9-qVgtMESdGAnJfT7FegPpjMMUCsmEsDUsnYsCXDS3K6glGiOR2NVp0TkktzUW3W1n3ow1-kY2tmlEtvi2x81D2b7zsU6w3hwrXUn8-dqS1sUWbU/s1600/P1060222.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Entry #366</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>November 29, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey with a late breaking blog
post from the Upper West Side of Manhattan written under the assumption that
people must be bored with eating turkey sandwiches and watching football. <span> </span>I’m sure they would much rather read about me
instead. I mean how much turkey and football can humans stand, especially when
there are Hounds who have much better uses for their time. I must say though,
that I am finding the 4-day weekend a bit trying, as are my human Maria and her
friend Elizabeth.<span> </span>Maria is tired of me
trying to drag her over to Elizabeth’s apartment to make up for the two-day deficit
I have in hanging out over there and Elizabeth worries about me when I am not
under her daily supervision. <span> </span>That, and
the fact that she has been trying to deal with all kinds of fun technology
glitches in my social media career which she manages. But more about that
later.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-7wh9EaI_kmjX65yuRROngEnEWyo0fIGNgxKIzBubc58sJ4eQepIAUI2ekpr1wM2nmnu0JSKbmI77HhPKVKXR3_aa1FqqikBylto7dBP4YgrHxX5uTbFDjUJrTs4Or5rpomiLvyuR2s/s1600/P1060198.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-7wh9EaI_kmjX65yuRROngEnEWyo0fIGNgxKIzBubc58sJ4eQepIAUI2ekpr1wM2nmnu0JSKbmI77HhPKVKXR3_aa1FqqikBylto7dBP4YgrHxX5uTbFDjUJrTs4Or5rpomiLvyuR2s/s1600/P1060198.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kFdpQ_OGNTq2fUxc9yd76qU4y54Zr3RVpk2cbGTpg9hNAH1xmxP6_18SKeUVlxONwzM7HJXn8h7pjBb_rsrLUFdKhwunvebG5y03Ogize8BcHvGTKrn9kLrimNoBGyAaL3qBwm4dqnM/s1600/P1060231.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>First, this week there is a serious absence of photos owing
to the fact that we have been experiencing some premature winter weather and
the ordeal of removing gloves and fishing out a camera or phone has proven too
arduous a task for my humans.<span> </span>Not to
mention the fact that by the time they accomplish all of this I have moved out
of frame and on to some other entertaining activity that requires their full
attention—like being “in mood”, a condition that was the subject of some furious
email exchanges between my humans this week.<span>
</span>Usually such exchanges take the form of texts but in this case there was
simply too much obnoxiousness to convey. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rrZjUNDZ2Xek1QjVZp_qmcBttIQBa-AnMTwBO6A3-PmSJijBrXmtPDs7bmTT0HmJ8uY0EwxXKkeACwHZ37wi2AYB2vsJpO5y1tlfo7CU-cn7EwsM3FsicZYbikF3of5URh-E1TbQDEU/s1600/P1060100.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6rrZjUNDZ2Xek1QjVZp_qmcBttIQBa-AnMTwBO6A3-PmSJijBrXmtPDs7bmTT0HmJ8uY0EwxXKkeACwHZ37wi2AYB2vsJpO5y1tlfo7CU-cn7EwsM3FsicZYbikF3of5URh-E1TbQDEU/s1600/P1060100.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>A Day in the Life of
A Hound in a “Mood”</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The “mood” began on Tuesday when Elizabeth turned up as
usual to take me for my customary midday walk and subsequent sojourn at her
place. While she was getting me ready (eye ointment, ear cleaning, teeth
brushing-- the usual pre-walk hygienic routine) there was some activity in the
hallway which required some vigorous baying at on my part. Let me say that as
vocal a Hound as I am outside I am very quiet inside and my humans discourage
indoor baying in the interests of not getting nasty notes from the neighbors. It
is extremely unusual for me to bay at anything going on in the hallway but all
bets are off when I am in a mood. And in spite of the fact that the activity
had ceased by the time I been bribed off the couch and into my harness I
charged out of the apartment baying at the top of my lungs (which is to say at
a deafening decibel level) and nearly tore Elizabeth’s arm out of its socket. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kFdpQ_OGNTq2fUxc9yd76qU4y54Zr3RVpk2cbGTpg9hNAH1xmxP6_18SKeUVlxONwzM7HJXn8h7pjBb_rsrLUFdKhwunvebG5y03Ogize8BcHvGTKrn9kLrimNoBGyAaL3qBwm4dqnM/s1600/P1060231.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kFdpQ_OGNTq2fUxc9yd76qU4y54Zr3RVpk2cbGTpg9hNAH1xmxP6_18SKeUVlxONwzM7HJXn8h7pjBb_rsrLUFdKhwunvebG5y03Ogize8BcHvGTKrn9kLrimNoBGyAaL3qBwm4dqnM/s1600/P1060231.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Once out, I made an immediate turn to go to Broadway,
intending to investigate all the pre-Thanksgiving shopping going on at Fairway.<span> </span>Elizabeth intended that I not investigate all
the pre-Thanksgiving shopping going on at Fairway however. <span> </span>I did eventually succumb to the lure of turkey
dangled in front of my snout to get me away from the action (and the fully
loaded grocery bags). At that point I realized that I was, in fact, quite
peckish and had a major Snack Attack that required much feeding of multiple kinds
of snacks to satisfy.<span> </span>After dilly
dallying and munching for a while I decided to head over to Unleashed to avail
myself of some further snacking opportunities. En route I deigned to produce
one pitifully small piece of business of the type that always causes my humans
to wonder where everything that they shovel into me actually goes. (Not to worry
though, Maria had the honor of collecting two bags full the next morning). </span></span></div>
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and began baying furiously at her to give me a snack from the cookie bar.
Elizabeth tried to fob me off with their complimentary Snack of the Day which I
promptly spat out, since it was a) not the snack I wanted and b) was not served
to me by the cashier. Good thing the crew that was working that day likes me. <span> </span>Elizabeth conveyed to the cashier the
necessity of feeding me the desired cream cookie snack and then I took off
around the store on an extended sniff-a thon. After this Elizabeth asked about
whether they had any more of<span> </span>another
snack that I like (carob chip cookies) so she could indulge in some Guilt
Buying. <span> </span>She kind of feels bad that I regularly
use the store as my personal olfactory and culinary playpen and then exit
without purchasing any merchandise. The requested box of the snacks was brought
out for me from the stockroom and the cashier handed me one just to make sure
that they were still on the Snacks Acceptable to Wimsey list (I tend to go off
snacks without warning—it keeps humans on their culinary toes).<span> </span></span></span></div>
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the shop and Elizabeth and I promptly had a disagreement about which direction
to take (my vote being to visit the restaurant arcade further south and
Elizabeth wishing instead to head in a homeward westerly direction).<span> </span>Such was my annoyance at being denied my
preferred route that I set about baying in protest.<span> </span>This attracted a group of picture taking and
videoing humans (giant baying Hounds in the middle of Manhattan are scarcer
than the proverbial hen’s teeth or the ((mythical)) Hound who listens to his
humans).<span> </span>And when I realized that people
wanted me to bay, I promptly shut up, causing all manner of human antics to encourage
further vocalizations and forcing Elizabeth to explain that I seldom bay when
anyone wants me to.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkGeW6qlXWLJar8dKVwZI4CLX1Ks41xLTGkHtqUv887kBDw65pwHkX2ieaYOFcs8MwbjudsVdYMEhucLpTJlMSk5_twoLStzXImsjs1i1GpqtZGa_gxPtwvzAwb09KFNeQq4eKD4gmtw/s1600/P1060186.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOkGeW6qlXWLJar8dKVwZI4CLX1Ks41xLTGkHtqUv887kBDw65pwHkX2ieaYOFcs8MwbjudsVdYMEhucLpTJlMSk5_twoLStzXImsjs1i1GpqtZGa_gxPtwvzAwb09KFNeQq4eKD4gmtw/s1600/P1060186.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Anyway, after accepting copious compliments about how
amazing I am, we finally headed west where I carried on because I was not allowed
to visit Furry Paws. I then cruised by the Cat Hospital and attempted to visit there
with a similar result. Next I determined that it was essential that we not
return home, but take the ramp down to Riverside Park South. The reason became
apparent when Dana the Dog walker appeared heading up the ramp with her Pharaoh
Hound and assorted poodle clients. This happy circumstance necessitated some
extended and joyous baying (as opposed to the protesting kind—I have a bay for
every occasion) after which I felt strongly that we should head south. As this
was the opposite direction from home the bribing turkey made its reappearance.
Elizabeth’s triumph was short-lived however because I decided that if I
couldn’t go south I wanted to take a long walk to the end of the pier in the
hopes that perhaps I would finally be able to follow scent across the Hudson
River to New Jersey. <span> </span>(Attempting to do
this is one of my ongoing projects and I would succeed were it not for the
presence of that pesky fence at the end of the pier). It took the rest of the
package of turkey to make me appreciate the wisdom of returning home. That and
the fact that my boiled chicken and yam lunch awaited.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Normally, this might be the end of the story, but when we
came in, a mere two hours after Elizabeth picked me up, she made the mistake of
putting the new pack of Unleashed snacks next to other unopened ones that are
stored on the top of the filing cabinet. I had never before paid any attention
to this cache but it suddenly became imperative that I liberate these snacks.
Elizabeth rushed to the refrigerator to show me the leftover salmon that she
was adding to my lunch (I am a well known lover of salmon). <span> </span>So I ceased operations and ate most of my
first bowl of salmon, chicken, yams and kibble and only finished the bowl when
I stared at Elizabeth to get her to add some turkey.<span> </span>I then returned to my activities at the
filing cabinet causing a second bowl of food to rapidly appear and the snacks
to disappear into a drawer. I did finally repair to my futon for a nap-- loud
and gassy, which are the best kind-- and Elizabeth repaired to her computer to
complain to Maria. Maria thought my antics were hilarious, mostly because they
didn’t happen to her.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJWh4DHIuyavZq0nLqoWeKa9LGoGcdSPtLBS1CXaerXeMlUXWahhZuRQim9ZHUTPtvHJFqGqWQCQphBn-snbSUiVAgpJO_O25rKfRBEflKlHsayZegraO77_FTuDZ3JVrYPxiTN5a1Go/s1600/P1060208.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJWh4DHIuyavZq0nLqoWeKa9LGoGcdSPtLBS1CXaerXeMlUXWahhZuRQim9ZHUTPtvHJFqGqWQCQphBn-snbSUiVAgpJO_O25rKfRBEflKlHsayZegraO77_FTuDZ3JVrYPxiTN5a1Go/s1600/P1060208.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Anyway, on Thanksgiving my humans went to a nearby
Australian restaurant where the food was surprisingly good (I can personally
attest to this since I had a doggy bag of turkey) and they discovered by
accident that there was a hidden, upstairs speakeasy kind of bar. The bar
delighted them so much that they barely noticed it when I subsequently took
them all over the neighborhood for a nice long holiday walk in the freezing
cold. They also discovered that the place has a brunch that includes 4
cocktails for an extra $16 and they are threatening to avail themselves of this
if I get in another mood.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So it was a very successful week for everybody. Less
successful was our attempt to get my picture book <i>The Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art</i> that is currently sold on Amazon
onto iTunes for sale there as well. It spat out our ePub version with a long
list of its failings. <span> </span>There is talk of
that brunch again. I also now have an instagram account under Wimsey Bloodhound
so I can share some of the many thousands of photos I have in my archive.<span> </span>Currently I am posting pictures of my hat
wardrobe and intend to move on to coats next. <span> </span>I will share everything on Facebook and
Twitter so no one will miss out on my splendor. I also now have a Tumblr blog
under The Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art.<span>
</span>Watch out Grumpy Cat, Obnoxious Hound is coming for you!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well I think I will leave it there for now. I hope everyone
had a terrific Thanksgiving and remembered to give thanks (and turkey) for
their Hound. I know I give thanks for me every day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wimsey, A Moody Hound</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-29277500217559192312014-11-21T22:18:00.002-05:002014-11-21T22:18:32.654-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #365<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mf_7Aga_gJlRHqzfP0FhkqarWsXa_am7i0nT3c690sjhLOp_w57E7edsDLaXP8hv_JZuY3DVVqJjISuFMsP3jTS9AhS11KxzXRwd5cz5f0ItE91avExhAqZEY3SvpayvA6qu2uvzoT8/s1600/P1060192.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mf_7Aga_gJlRHqzfP0FhkqarWsXa_am7i0nT3c690sjhLOp_w57E7edsDLaXP8hv_JZuY3DVVqJjISuFMsP3jTS9AhS11KxzXRwd5cz5f0ItE91avExhAqZEY3SvpayvA6qu2uvzoT8/s1600/P1060192.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Entry #365</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>November 21, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, coming to you from the Upper
West Side of Manhattan where we are having something of a cold snap that I personally
find rather invigorating. My human Maria and her friend Elizabeth also like the
brisk conditions although they find it less than invigorating when they have to
remove their gloves to respond to my frequent need to be snacked.<span> </span>Cold weather always gives me an appetite
which means that I have gone through a vast number of snack packs and turkey portions
and yet still have room to dive snout first into leaf piles to extract
abandoned edibles.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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Never Ending Kibble (‘n stuff) Bowl.<span> </span>I
have always been a free feeding Hound and no sooner does one bowl of kibble
disappear down my gullet than another appears as if by magic (although a hard
and hungry stare helps the magic along). And then there is the daily Kibble
Count. Maria’s kibble scoop holds 1 ½ cups and Elizabeth’s holds two cups so the
ladies are able to experience shock and awe at the amount of kibble that I am
sometimes able to put away when the daily eatings are tallied. But because this
eating occurs throughout the day (and sometimes at night) it is thought to be
an excellent bloat retardant since I seldom eat large amounts at any one time
(large being relative, but usually I get cut off for an hour or so if I am
exceptionally hungry and consume 6 or 8 cups at one go). I am also a leisurely
eater which is thought to make me less prone to bloat.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVyR_97GNK_sOeYIbi79zGMlCARCXiL6EvJCrYqvbBCkzJR4MwIre3ptZKz4J6-gEYxxYd_G2xjLhMtRR1eF0oCS83fVbcuzwft06dNH1fgTxu0iG0DYdvwIhCcD4ipCQT8mRs4eZwsg/s1600/P1060221.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVyR_97GNK_sOeYIbi79zGMlCARCXiL6EvJCrYqvbBCkzJR4MwIre3ptZKz4J6-gEYxxYd_G2xjLhMtRR1eF0oCS83fVbcuzwft06dNH1fgTxu0iG0DYdvwIhCcD4ipCQT8mRs4eZwsg/s1600/P1060221.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Of course the cup count also includes the amount that I
manage to scatter around the apartment which is sometimes quite impressive—when
a Hound with his flews filled with kibble shakes his head more than the fur
flies. And much to the inexplicable annoyance of my humans I maintain a pretty
constant 130 pound weight regardless of how much I eat but lose weight if I go
on one of my light eating binges. <span> </span>I
pride myself on the fact that not only can I annoy my humans utilizing an
arsenal of active techniques but I can also annoy them by passive methods such
as my gifted metabolism.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWd0dF6VkE5IFCdx4iuHi__h_tOzEmg2AOsF8tCuo1PAg8W0UEN0VoM8trphVhb4cNQMb47Kz8HEgzzlxDbajArapRbo4vyU7lW55WNqHo49Ie7RR8OmNthqRmXce4B3aaVuLvnDRVBf8/s1600/P1060204.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWd0dF6VkE5IFCdx4iuHi__h_tOzEmg2AOsF8tCuo1PAg8W0UEN0VoM8trphVhb4cNQMb47Kz8HEgzzlxDbajArapRbo4vyU7lW55WNqHo49Ie7RR8OmNthqRmXce4B3aaVuLvnDRVBf8/s1600/P1060204.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>But I digress (although a discussion of the ways in which I
annoy my humans is always a pleasurable digression). The cold weather brings
out the beast in me and as mentioned, this beast has a humongous appetite.<span> </span>My humans are indeed fortunate that my
increased appetite does not include a predilection for such delicacies as the
couch. But really with so much gourmet nosh on offer, both in and out of leaf
piles, I can’t be bothered. Also I have never figured out a way that the couch
could be cut into bite sized portions and hand fed to me. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7Rc5cqxpCEp08LrKrJyD214ct-EGlxs6qKKhtU-BQEo20cXNSzTkaOexfdedHzub3S8mPT1mtqraXT7jhH6Hfwa2tnMiW7rf2Q6o13f0F9lA71J6tije-ca7AzChRdSY3oau3JU0lwc/s1600/P1060207.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7Rc5cqxpCEp08LrKrJyD214ct-EGlxs6qKKhtU-BQEo20cXNSzTkaOexfdedHzub3S8mPT1mtqraXT7jhH6Hfwa2tnMiW7rf2Q6o13f0F9lA71J6tije-ca7AzChRdSY3oau3JU0lwc/s1600/P1060207.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span>But I do require the
endless feeding of snacks and turkey during my long walks and then a rapidly
replenished food bowl, (after which consumption I repair to one of my many
napping venues to digest in the manner of a snake that has just eaten an
ostrich). And as is the custom every year, my humans hope that all the food
taken in will create a greater sense of urgency in finding a spot to get the
food taken out. And every year they are disappointed. The carrying capacity of
my bladder is only exceeded by that of my digestive tract so there is never any
rush to empty either, especially on our pleasant nightly arctic perambulations.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13R4c9UsePTU_vRTKFSz2HKtt_Y11lPSYITNuzk5Xkc88RHtfMdwCRnyc6PuAwTHXMKrnHL_-g_1ahJnG3utJKYQ4bwqsYP6Suv8D6UzA88yCrV1EDhXyZq1lG93WxJ04ap81S5kBiwQ/s1600/IMG_20141118_134945_edit.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13R4c9UsePTU_vRTKFSz2HKtt_Y11lPSYITNuzk5Xkc88RHtfMdwCRnyc6PuAwTHXMKrnHL_-g_1ahJnG3utJKYQ4bwqsYP6Suv8D6UzA88yCrV1EDhXyZq1lG93WxJ04ap81S5kBiwQ/s1600/IMG_20141118_134945_edit.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>The only bad thing about the weather will be obvious from
the photos—the need to wear my coat (it’s made by Chilly Dog in Canada by the
way, and is supposed to be suited to very cold conditions). <span> </span>The Winter Coat Algorithm calls for it to be
deployed when the mercury dips below 35F. (My care requires many such algorithms
but fortunately none of them requires the solving of quadratic equations,
although I am working on it, but so far my humans do not seem interested in calculating
whether a gob of spit that I’ve flung will hit them in the face—they just run).
The only good thing about the coat is that, if possible, it enhances my appeal
and things that enhance my appeal enhance the chances of me being fed other
people’s food. <span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This weather makes it feel more like Christmas than
Thanksgiving, which is shortly to be upon us. So in honor of the holiday let us
look in on Dick and Jane and see how they celebrate.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-NGKo7aFgFxXdIZt-PWV9sbYYHfV0L6t4bKOnmBJgrZ19WLhDUXbkS7SpRSSHCz0qys0_aEbAh4AXOcvrEymNdqVwYYzLMDxgA74C0pyF8yHgWfBm0GigxlDP9GDPmM1jRaSQICbb8A/s1600/P1060181.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO-NGKo7aFgFxXdIZt-PWV9sbYYHfV0L6t4bKOnmBJgrZ19WLhDUXbkS7SpRSSHCz0qys0_aEbAh4AXOcvrEymNdqVwYYzLMDxgA74C0pyF8yHgWfBm0GigxlDP9GDPmM1jRaSQICbb8A/s1600/P1060181.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Thanksgiving With
Dick and Jane</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick. See Dick in his new suit. It is Thanksgiving! </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Jane. See Jane in her new pink dress. It is Thanksgiving!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick’s mother.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick’s mother in the kitchen. Dick’s mother has been in
the kitchen for 2 days.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick’s Hound. See Dick’s Hound in the kitchen. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dick’s
Hound has also been in the kitchen for 2 days. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick’s father. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick’s father in front of the
television set.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Dick’s father has been in front of the television set for 2
days. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span>“Let us give thanks!”
says Dick. “</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dick’s mother gives thanks for her large kitchen.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dick’s father gives thanks for football.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dick’s Hound does not give thanks. Hounds do not give
anything, they take. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am thankful that you are my friend,” says Dick.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am thankful that I do not have to go to school!” says
Jane</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am thankful that my mother is a good cook,” says Dick. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am thankful for my pink dress” says Jane.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am thankful for the turkey,” says Dick.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dick’s Hound is thankful that Dick’s mother had to leave the
kitchen to pry Dick’s father away from the television.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See the Thanksgiving table. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Thanksgiving table is beautiful.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Thanksgiving table has china.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Thanksgiving table has crystal.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Thanksgiving table has silver.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Thanksgiving table does not have a turkey.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Jane.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Jane’s pretty pink dress.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jane’s pink dress is no longer pink.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jane’s dress is no longer pretty.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dick’s Hound has eaten too much turkey.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jane’s dress was in the way.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Jane cry.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick cry.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick’s mother cry.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">See Dick’s father watch football.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The End</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCGz46v3B33dCwEFuEECK4cGUJhUJFBilsHx6LLsscT5lB_SsEl65_iK9xY7B8wZLQ1hqTVzvpjGh7y1Xbh6mdEgQaXEXe8hXM5B9P93oTpFEpmVGR6XzFu8zRZfHs7Op1TZ-iBT05eE/s1600/P1060183.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCGz46v3B33dCwEFuEECK4cGUJhUJFBilsHx6LLsscT5lB_SsEl65_iK9xY7B8wZLQ1hqTVzvpjGh7y1Xbh6mdEgQaXEXe8hXM5B9P93oTpFEpmVGR6XzFu8zRZfHs7Op1TZ-iBT05eE/s1600/P1060183.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>The holiday season always pleases me (with the exception of
the appearance of my elf hat and antlers) and I can already see signs that the
Christmas tree vendors are setting up shop. This brings the annual “don’t let
Wimsey pee on the Christmas trees” battle which I enjoy tremendously since I
become the focus of even more attention, albeit of a different kind And then
there is the abundance of gullible tourists in town to feed, photograph and
admire me. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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deceiving—especially Hound appearances.<span>
</span>For instance, we look so noble, intelligent and wise when we are really
a pack of silly idiots who frequently labor under <span> </span>persistent delusions such as that slowly
stalking a squirrel will result in its capture or that staring at the refrigerator
will cause it to open.<span> </span>And people think
we look lazy, mellow and relaxed and that we would like nothing better than a
life spent on the couch when we are endurance athletes and need vast quantities
of exercise otherwise the couch in question is doomed to have a short life.<span> </span>And we look like sturdy robust animals but
really we are rather delicate and it is quite easy to issue us a ticket to the
rainbow bridge with a bit too much anesthesia. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>And because we are such knuckleheads
we look like we are impervious to human actions, but really we are very sensitive
creatures and require gentle guidance as opposed to harsh discipline.</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hgvc97lrm-Rk8D8sCwCCgVPuhUzm5f6uxbHHz2ytFjFsI4-e58xfz7cuSp5EVPInbleXGX1jP6O9O2CPwcvJGQgGHUWksZPZVV4S1IllhkobcLHA2-b9J9t62uJ7GgcyaCA_9yQTrmw/s1600/P1060193.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hgvc97lrm-Rk8D8sCwCCgVPuhUzm5f6uxbHHz2ytFjFsI4-e58xfz7cuSp5EVPInbleXGX1jP6O9O2CPwcvJGQgGHUWksZPZVV4S1IllhkobcLHA2-b9J9t62uJ7GgcyaCA_9yQTrmw/s1600/P1060193.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a> And our
droopy eyes and skin make us look perpetually sad when in fact the opposite is
true since we tend to be a cossetted and much canoodled with lot. But the sad
looking eyes do come in handy when we want something (and when do we not?).<span> </span>We Hounds are the epitome of the rationale
for not judging a book by its cover, something that my humans are frequently called
upon to point out to all those admiring tourists. Fortunately they never
believe them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, I think I will leave it there this week. I hope
everyone has a lovely Thanksgiving and I know that Maria will be thankful for
not having to go work for four days and Elizabeth will be (very) thankful for
not having to take care of me for four days. Of course, somehow during those
times when Elizabeth does not have the daily care and feeding of me she texts
Maria incessantly to find out what I am doing and when she can join us for
walks. I am a hard habit to break.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Wimsey, a Hound to give thanks for (and to feed turkey to)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">PS: There are now 365 posts so you can start at #1 and read
about me every day for an entire year!</span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-43722472231004310522014-11-15T13:32:00.000-05:002014-11-15T13:32:05.542-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #364<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOz8yGobGMO7K_ILgNm2AbSe2sC_EaM1hynN1Ye5MysotvVJrryKRrAFr0dz_FDemHl6sGGr44X-arzfsY61ib-ukKjwuQtFRwPoqV5fGolm8Jb9Nc3fWBg_elTsL_e4D3JtfQyMnCMY/s1600/P1060174.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOz8yGobGMO7K_ILgNm2AbSe2sC_EaM1hynN1Ye5MysotvVJrryKRrAFr0dz_FDemHl6sGGr44X-arzfsY61ib-ukKjwuQtFRwPoqV5fGolm8Jb9Nc3fWBg_elTsL_e4D3JtfQyMnCMY/s1600/P1060174.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaoUfvz-J5_7C_4Y8w6olOyTQkpjqo2ZD5MKA4qPJvivQ-GmWJmzjWV4vvBbVu3eq5lC25oZjd6oBZoMni05g2nC7uTrddEJK2pIntA33LOQ5KCPz8Iz52umURUSfK5zdYu89tfc6VX-M/s1600/P1060115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #364</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>November 15, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, coming to you from the
heart of Polar Vortex Country, otherwise known as Manhattan’s Upper West Side, where
last week we finally had autumn and this week we now have winter. My human
Maria and her friend Elizabeth are beginning to assume the Michelin Man
proportions that are the hallmark of the season, premature or no. And yesterday
in another hallmark of the season a passerby accosted us and asked Elizabeth in
an accusatory fashion if I was cold without a coat (it was 43 degrees and
sunny). <span> </span>It was Elizabeth’s first coat
shaming of the season and we are more than a month away from it actually being winter!
Bring on the polar vortex! (As long as it doesn’t actually bring on my
coat).<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>The irony of my humans being accused of negligence in
matters relating to my comfort is never lost on any of us. <span> </span>Especially yesterday when Elizabeth was
carrying my heavy canister of water (they shut off the park fountains when it
gets cold) and had her large messenger bag slung across her shoulder—the one
that replaced the giant fanny pack because it was deemed insufficiently
capacious to carry everything that I might need on a walk. All this leads my
humans to frequently debate which of them was (more) responsible for making me
the spoiled (although I prefer the word entitled) creature that I am but if
truth be told it is the fault of Nature.<span>
</span>Great Hounds are born not made. That is not to say that humans can’t
improve upon Nature’s plan by, say, carrying around a large snack and turkey
assortment to encourage a Hound’s boundless appetite for <i>al fresco</i> munching. And when the boundless appetite belongs to a
Hound with a refined (or fickle and finicky) palate such as myself it requires the
toting of a veritable smorgasbord of snacks.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkisOhmN3cQmtQZlAq106mndRAvlYTq1eADJmYhK7nwo5UOvxmm7iOJUDYTsO9hQ5d0ihcGAt8SYLrsuRKatJGvwM8x8AX4DgZbafsz3Om0ozqsUHebCJyGKFmj3FbSDu-NcbLRHkHaM/s1600/P1060142.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQkisOhmN3cQmtQZlAq106mndRAvlYTq1eADJmYhK7nwo5UOvxmm7iOJUDYTsO9hQ5d0ihcGAt8SYLrsuRKatJGvwM8x8AX4DgZbafsz3Om0ozqsUHebCJyGKFmj3FbSDu-NcbLRHkHaM/s1600/P1060142.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>In fact, so interested am I to indulge in novel snacking
experiences that sometimes Chewy, com asks me to review a snack.<span> </span>This week I was served Natural Balance Tend
Cuts Duck Formula and asked to render an opinion.<span> </span>These are meaty little snacks (duck is the
first ingredient) of about 1 ½ inches in length and perfect for popping into the
mouth of an insistent, treat pouch poking Hound. They have a chewy texture
which causes them to stay put rather than falling out of my flews like crunchy
snacks sometimes do.<span> </span>Also they are flavored
with what the package says is “natural smoke flavor” which means that they exude
the enticing scent of beef jerky and excite a Hound’s olfactory senses in a
manner that his humans find inconvenient given that his olfactory senses are
directly linked to his salivary secretions.<span>
</span>Anyway, these are very nice snacks with the only caveat being that they
made me thirsty. But since this required my humans to serve me water at frequent
intervals during our walks it was not necessarily a bad thing. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcv2W96ZCbyfijwT_FpxlyOJueGOEPXRbpe0WIXdyu1SuPS69AXFXd5jAoiFJm1Y-wVKv5eI68fEr6aEqrRZzB_s2cbq99J9zLY0XpeOXYhrE5aDXUOoNt9OFVIB8yDaT-5EFNb6wXoA/s1600/P1060129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2IUEKi3Y2geJgEY9Vf9C7WdzLgRnS0crl9fc2ZgNeBKIa3Ztzy67nMdNF9JdI-YMR8HEmUfe5f7N0TVXq4Jv0IRVPOuPkg8oBIPTArGr3KMWNpx1NXAXHFq3hab6ylBxmecObzNe0kk/s1600/P1060162.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2IUEKi3Y2geJgEY9Vf9C7WdzLgRnS0crl9fc2ZgNeBKIa3Ztzy67nMdNF9JdI-YMR8HEmUfe5f7N0TVXq4Jv0IRVPOuPkg8oBIPTArGr3KMWNpx1NXAXHFq3hab6ylBxmecObzNe0kk/s1600/P1060162.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, once again I must apologize for the paucity of
photos. Apparently I was very uncooperative in the matter of looking at the
camera this week owing to all the scent to be investigated on the leaves.<span> </span>And when I was looking up Elizabeth was very
unhappy with what was happening—either I was turning my head, closing my eyes
or raising my snout for the all too common “nostril shot.”<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcv2W96ZCbyfijwT_FpxlyOJueGOEPXRbpe0WIXdyu1SuPS69AXFXd5jAoiFJm1Y-wVKv5eI68fEr6aEqrRZzB_s2cbq99J9zLY0XpeOXYhrE5aDXUOoNt9OFVIB8yDaT-5EFNb6wXoA/s1600/P1060129.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcv2W96ZCbyfijwT_FpxlyOJueGOEPXRbpe0WIXdyu1SuPS69AXFXd5jAoiFJm1Y-wVKv5eI68fEr6aEqrRZzB_s2cbq99J9zLY0XpeOXYhrE5aDXUOoNt9OFVIB8yDaT-5EFNb6wXoA/s1600/P1060129.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Also I sometimes find that I have an urgent
need to wash my snout when the camera appears—frequently in anticipation of the
turkey with which I am paid for posing. And the times that I was looking at the
camera apparently I had an unpleasant and demanding look on my face –probably
because I was actually looking at the treat pouch instead.<span> </span>My humans prefer to depict me with a “soft
and gentle” Hound look which is usually reserved for when I am encouraging them
to cut up and feed me slices of pizza and not when I am demanding that they fork
over the edibles they wear for my benefit.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhcGGqbT696fIXdMjxtz7GxIzjsx6-Ks3GcOijWRfCK6dBig450CPag2uEDe4ob2GMKyi4gm2m511a0Qdy0XYF7oOSOcCrETE5SLF_ckuZRi-dCgynfCXFPR9TC0rxWsAEUC8lFyOFcs/s1600/P1060156.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhcGGqbT696fIXdMjxtz7GxIzjsx6-Ks3GcOijWRfCK6dBig450CPag2uEDe4ob2GMKyi4gm2m511a0Qdy0XYF7oOSOcCrETE5SLF_ckuZRi-dCgynfCXFPR9TC0rxWsAEUC8lFyOFcs/s1600/P1060156.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, it’s been a pretty typical week around here—I spent
quite a bit of time out and about owing to the congenial weather and the fact
that the leaves were at their peak of beauty—my humans like the way that they
look and I like the way that they smell.<span>
</span>Then there are also days when it takes forever to get anywhere because I
keep getting surrounded by admirers, including those that also feed me snacks.
It takes a village. Or in the case of a Hound who has many needs and wants, an
entire major metropolis. My humans love to hear me praised—I can tell by the
frozen smiles on their faces. And then when I bay people come running to see
what made that amazing noise and then to find out why I made that amazing
noise. ”Why is he doing that” is always a big question that and it has many
potential answers:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8K9f1Kksbu5fGzr_rujfJDTzTHKo52p1701UObeMtZg90rCAO7YEH7C5ZS_SZuJBRD5O8mBmRzKbPFF6pKQ8t1yitjpgRxpMmf25rVTaQ151XeqxzAbt8g0yu1v53cGgDN42pwZfX9Q/s1600/P1060177.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8K9f1Kksbu5fGzr_rujfJDTzTHKo52p1701UObeMtZg90rCAO7YEH7C5ZS_SZuJBRD5O8mBmRzKbPFF6pKQ8t1yitjpgRxpMmf25rVTaQ151XeqxzAbt8g0yu1v53cGgDN42pwZfX9Q/s1600/P1060177.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I like being loud and obnoxious</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I want a piece of turkey</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I want your water bottle</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I want your sandwich</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I want (fill in the blank)</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I see the gelato truck</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I want to put my large wet nose up that terrified little
dog’s backside</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The light is red and I want it to be green</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I’m saying hello</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I’m excited</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I’m happy</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I’m bored</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I’m annoyed</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Because I can</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaGw1CRGylUwEtP-uQ46GwjmGpHDOqk1bonmqGSdCu6O11mF63xj4P37F46ZYITfs4xoKuRpSLMzR3j_StEvEHGyCDbXNNERHQgZnhhyNmbfgdr1Y5Il4yKBvWsmTU-BTYWlf_BvHSAE/s1600/P1060149.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiaGw1CRGylUwEtP-uQ46GwjmGpHDOqk1bonmqGSdCu6O11mF63xj4P37F46ZYITfs4xoKuRpSLMzR3j_StEvEHGyCDbXNNERHQgZnhhyNmbfgdr1Y5Il4yKBvWsmTU-BTYWlf_BvHSAE/s1600/P1060149.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Also this week I was highly amused by the responses to a
post in the Facebook Bloodhound Owner’s Group about someone considering
obtaining a bloodhound. It reminded me of one of the years that I was being
shown at Westminster and Maria was being interviewed by a reporter for <i>The Daily News</i> who asked her why she had
a bloodhound.<span> </span>Without missing a beat the
question was answered by the breeder, owner handler showing the Hound next to
us: “Insanity,” she chimed in. I concur. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8-3PlStfRwS5RnkltZYWRXBNgBzeLIaTU9luro7undN4sNjb-Og2FXI9RbeGFkXNKI3K-ckE2XGW8n4olh76sojOrCxsPakQoIuNLZz3uqVc4EdzHCwJpDYeISmkfsa-yOGZki8Rjwk/s1600/P1060127.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8-3PlStfRwS5RnkltZYWRXBNgBzeLIaTU9luro7undN4sNjb-Og2FXI9RbeGFkXNKI3K-ckE2XGW8n4olh76sojOrCxsPakQoIuNLZz3uqVc4EdzHCwJpDYeISmkfsa-yOGZki8Rjwk/s1600/P1060127.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>As a Hound, I would never have a Hound myself. I would have
a useful dog, like a Golden Retriever, who would be as slavishly devoted to me
as I am to myself. Maria, though, is an accidental bloodhound owner to whose
ill-advised behavior I owe our relationship. She and her boyfriend saw
bloodhound puppy in a pet shop (yes, that’s bad, we know) and who can resist a
bloodhound puppy? And so Bloodhound #1 entered her life and her possessions
exited her life.<span> </span>But so smitten was she
with the breed <span> </span>(for reasons that it would
probably take a phalanx of psychologists to divine) that she acquired a second,
pet quality bloodhound from a breeder a year or so later. Suffice it to say
that if we fast-forward through these bloodhound years, there was no boyfriend
and no possessions at the end of them. (But to be fair, my predecessors did
leave intact a small couch as well as the bed but Maria is pretty sure that was
because it’s where they liked to sleep). Cause and effect? Who’s to say?<span> </span>But a devoted bloodhound human was born.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtZ7DKhONiwKRCCIX1SAqNZ3yA3z08f0O87N2H5hIEtanV8T_FgAg9jLU3XNMhiSN_K6jvdI4L-XPR9l6EF3bnlCRm3wrLU3c4nnvWLdUIZQQUzYpEH9mn104pJC8m2un5DGTLhDFX6s/s1600/P1060151.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHtZ7DKhONiwKRCCIX1SAqNZ3yA3z08f0O87N2H5hIEtanV8T_FgAg9jLU3XNMhiSN_K6jvdI4L-XPR9l6EF3bnlCRm3wrLU3c4nnvWLdUIZQQUzYpEH9mn104pJC8m2un5DGTLhDFX6s/s1600/P1060151.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Characteristics of an
Ideal Bloodhound Human</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">1. An excellent sense of humor.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">2. Ability to say, “I’m sorry” in ten different languages.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">3. A lack of an ego.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">4. A tolerance for being humiliated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">5. A lack of attachment to material possessions.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">6. No sense of smell.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">7. No interest in housekeeping (or an abundance of hired
help)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">8. No interest in gardening<span>
</span>(or revolving credit at the garden center)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">9. A lot of money (or a willingness to spend what one has on
one’s Hound)</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">10.<span> </span>A love of 8 hour
walks.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">11. A love of 8 hour walks in the pouring rain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">12. A very large bed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">13. A good dry cleaner.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">14. An unlimited food budget.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">15. Cabinet and refrigerator locks</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">16. Eyes in back of one’s head.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">17. Fast hands.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">18. Excellent foot speed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">19. An understanding that “no” means yes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">20. Does not bruise easily</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">21. Good health insurance.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">22. A steadfast belief that the Hound loves you despite its
total disregard for your wishes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">23. A high tolerance for pain—physical, psychological and
financial</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv78_HaxwMbl9XWczd1OX2avEWbotIvxv8vSNtyT_35uQ_rb-rDAEE5C6NwpXLIqgm10V9qAJ0qByg4MUINd6QPDNtx4pjQ06DolM21WvYwYDqYTodyXRaypQFBzY2GbqKsS5zxhc_tvs/s1600/P1060123.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv78_HaxwMbl9XWczd1OX2avEWbotIvxv8vSNtyT_35uQ_rb-rDAEE5C6NwpXLIqgm10V9qAJ0qByg4MUINd6QPDNtx4pjQ06DolM21WvYwYDqYTodyXRaypQFBzY2GbqKsS5zxhc_tvs/s1600/P1060123.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well the holidays are fast approaching and as usual my
humans have begun debating where to eat Thanksgiving dinner.<span> </span>They go out every year because neither of
them have family close by or kitchens large enough to handle the meal,
especially if there is a large Hound involved. Also they are lazy. And before
you feel sorry for me, remember that given how much turkey I put away on a
daily basis, every day is effectively Thanksgiving for me. It’s also always
Thanksgiving for them since my humans give thanks daily —thanks that I didn’t
slime too many pedestrians, thanks that I didn’t plop my 130 lb., posterior
into their laps too many times, thanks that I (eventually) decided to eliminate
properly, thanks for all the products available to take goop off the walls,
thanks for the fact that squirrels are faster than bloodhounds and of course
most of all thanks that I provide a focal point for their otherwise boring and
meaningless existence. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07ttmvWkEZsO2rFc67EwPpXIpeZW8YbglHmgMg9GA43sd3jjI_mF5EK0PGaWOHeLqCbTu6X9gF3dtGZr5hdcGfubMpqCrczQKalUaTFQOW4aZPEVTd90xW0T5qlSpkdp4scQdRDS-2c4/s1600/P1060146.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07ttmvWkEZsO2rFc67EwPpXIpeZW8YbglHmgMg9GA43sd3jjI_mF5EK0PGaWOHeLqCbTu6X9gF3dtGZr5hdcGfubMpqCrczQKalUaTFQOW4aZPEVTd90xW0T5qlSpkdp4scQdRDS-2c4/s1600/P1060146.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And as Christmas is soon to follow Thanksgiving, may I in
all modesty suggest that you could not give your loved ones any more of a gift
than the gift of me—as represented by my eBooks, The Wimsey Institute of
Houndish Art. --four volumes of Pure Wimsey available worldwide on Amazon. What
better way to celebrate on Christmas morning than sitting around a toasty fire
admiring me on your favorite electronic device (i.e., the one that your Hound
hasn’t gotten around to eating yet)? If the world’s great art masterpieces are
things of beauty, how much more beautiful are they with the insertion of a
Magnificent Hound? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, I think I will leave it here for this week.<span> </span>A new box of snacks has arrived that requires
close inspection—one of them has acai berries in it and I am eager to taste
them. My humans are hoping to find something healthy and organic that I like as
much as the Milkbones from the supermarket.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, a polar vortex-loving Hound</span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-7937868981896435482014-11-07T20:50:00.006-05:002014-11-07T20:50:56.773-05:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #363<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #363</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>November 7, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from Manhattan’s
Upper West Side where fall appears to be in full swing and the abundance of
autumn leaves makes my leg appear to be in full lift. <span> </span>Peeing on leaves (and kicking them into the
faces of my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth) is one of the great joys of
the season. Also high on my list is the cool, crisp weather which energizes the
City’s inhabitants, most notably the those bearing fur, such as the season’s
hyperactive and newly lively squirrels.<span> </span>Even
the pedestrians I poke in the posterior seem to be moving a little bit brisker
these days.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWNFN2d9sXvz9VOnYWRN7gJYJJNPKCrsIItAIzcoVr2ylGiGwRI6FD4IY3NGD_wu9Tc5BMZBhZq9kthOsX5qQuxO9S7bjUc_rJAWE2CPR_yEqfoMZCvs3HArtZ9h9gRjT3WsRJ0nV0VE/s1600/P1060079.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjWNFN2d9sXvz9VOnYWRN7gJYJJNPKCrsIItAIzcoVr2ylGiGwRI6FD4IY3NGD_wu9Tc5BMZBhZq9kthOsX5qQuxO9S7bjUc_rJAWE2CPR_yEqfoMZCvs3HArtZ9h9gRjT3WsRJ0nV0VE/s1600/P1060079.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And I am indeed fortunate that my humans and I are all cool
and cold weather creatures. In honor of this Elizabeth identified a new website
(woolover.com) from which to order this year’s collection of inexpensive, 100% wool
Hound sweaters. <span> </span>I believe I have
mentioned it before, but Elizabeth is to sweaters what Imelda Marcos was to
shoes. But then again, Hound sweaters need constant replenishing owing to their
frequently short life span caused by constant use, constant fragrance and of
course constant drool.<span> </span>Also they seem to
develop holes whose origins are forever shrouded in the mysteries of time.<span> </span>We Hounds tell no tales, no pun intended.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8eGzRFH2ULOcQK_IyfAfMMVv0eXpPq4xjJjbEQ3S2YMupqvol7SYnd8X87tRQlIkfXorb2I4R6kAnUWGwk4HbXjGsO683tI7L6jHQs_VobR4_UdRM-uWN6ypf0TBfp1uXskWov4phBQ/s1600/P1060099.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8eGzRFH2ULOcQK_IyfAfMMVv0eXpPq4xjJjbEQ3S2YMupqvol7SYnd8X87tRQlIkfXorb2I4R6kAnUWGwk4HbXjGsO683tI7L6jHQs_VobR4_UdRM-uWN6ypf0TBfp1uXskWov4phBQ/s1600/P1060099.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well the first batch of these sweaters arrived and they were
displayed for Maria to inspect before I put my inimitable stamp on them.
Apparently the three shelves of sweaters that Elizabeth already has are simply
not sufficient and she has helpfully offered to make up the numbers to achieve
free shipping should Maria decide to order some for us. I myself have helpfully
offered to make up the numbers of those requiring the services of the rubbish
bin. So far no takers, but I am ever hopeful.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeYRMEYMgiy3b8H-TbN9l3VKgEPJhBIERFt1AclgktIdDqg3TVQwez8vStOAmr8ZRI30rHZ74bp9WZ-S0UJFUs-hocgvmVjgBrsEBDrUqY12PZ1n3w7sEki1eCM00i4UTvC5Q0bJrx1c/s1600/P1060111.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeYRMEYMgiy3b8H-TbN9l3VKgEPJhBIERFt1AclgktIdDqg3TVQwez8vStOAmr8ZRI30rHZ74bp9WZ-S0UJFUs-hocgvmVjgBrsEBDrUqY12PZ1n3w7sEki1eCM00i4UTvC5Q0bJrx1c/s1600/P1060111.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Today’s post will be rather short since I spent the
afternoon doing a two-park walk—I headed over to Central Park to pee on the
colorful leaves and then hauled tail back across town to Riverside Park to pee
on more colorful leaves. It was one of those days which make me intensely
grateful to have a giant bladder—the inexhaustible nature of which should
really be classified as one of the Seven Wonders of the World. <span> </span>And although humans tend to dwell on the<span> </span>“special” nature of a Hound’s behavior and
our puppyish devotion to destruction and mayhem throughout our lives, my
unlimited bladder capacity reminds me that we Hounds have many significant
anatomical features that also make us “special.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7Ay4Z3y5vE6R_PR4GKnI4wayOMOm4ElosPPqaUXDHVX1weCsAJKl2shTKFsTCj_Xzyw1g2TspQK5eZXNF7elU_9rohFDnNYnJHu3angIccF5xRD8mgQEPag0m_cKNjtVbiiOpucr7No/s1600/P1060113.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM7Ay4Z3y5vE6R_PR4GKnI4wayOMOm4ElosPPqaUXDHVX1weCsAJKl2shTKFsTCj_Xzyw1g2TspQK5eZXNF7elU_9rohFDnNYnJHu3angIccF5xRD8mgQEPag0m_cKNjtVbiiOpucr7No/s1600/P1060113.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Professor Wimsey’s
Guide to External Hound Anatomy</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>The Head:</b> The
most significant feature of the Hound head (apart from its extreme beauty) is undoubtedly
the structure known as the occipital point.<span>
</span>Although it has been hypothesized that this structure is the repository
of all of a Hound’s brains—the rest of the cranial cavity being filled largely
with air-- this is in fact not the case. Rather than passively containing the
sum total of a Hound’s brains, however, the occipital point is a functional piece
of active Hound anatomy that is essential to causing the maximum amount of pain
when head butting humans.<span> </span>Its attention-getting
properties during head butting is felt regardless of whether the Hound is head
butting in order to obtain something desirable that is in the (temporary)
custody of a human or is engaging in the activity for mere sport.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRFmMLZF65Oa9uWE7XevPQkD0npJFkolSTPxFt-EpBeEQdmb7CLyOLZdH0k_jfH8hD0zP1c47B7w6njRvPEgDgPPtstpxKe_YembwYWBs_hzWx6sN04yrnHAPPSSWQpxxO-ixWeXW8YU/s1600/P1060086.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRFmMLZF65Oa9uWE7XevPQkD0npJFkolSTPxFt-EpBeEQdmb7CLyOLZdH0k_jfH8hD0zP1c47B7w6njRvPEgDgPPtstpxKe_YembwYWBs_hzWx6sN04yrnHAPPSSWQpxxO-ixWeXW8YU/s1600/P1060086.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>The Ears:</b> The
ears of the Hound are long, luxurious and low-set, all of which are essential for
the gathering and transporting of the maximum amount of noxious, odoriferous substances
(aka, crap) from the outdoors and distributing it indoors on beds, clothing and
white pieces of furniture.<span> </span>The ears can
also be used to collect quantities of moisture from the water bowl which can be
flung liberally in the faces of humans trying to consume meals without the
participation of the Hound. Functionally, the rapid rotation of the Hound head
produces an acoustically robust sound (aka flapping) that can be used by the
Hound to call attention to his loneliness and desire for a scratch in the middle
of the night or to his desire to have his food bowl replenished and to go for a
walk in the pre-dawn hours.<span> </span>The Hound’s
Ears are exquisitely sensitive and can hear even the smallest sound related to
food preparation activities although they can be functionally deaf to sounds in
certain wavelengths (such as those related to human speech) and fail to
register even the loudest of things being shouted at him. The physical
sensitivity of the Hound Ear is evinced by the speed with which the Hound flees
in the face of expensive eardrops or ear cleaning embrocations.</span></span></div>
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appearance the Hound Eye suggests that the Hound has spent a night out on the
tiles but this is a functional adaptation that lends him an appealing, pleading
aspect when attempting to cadge food from kindhearted humans. The Eyes can also
give the appearance of relaxation and sleepiness that is crucial to the lightening
fast snatching or filching of food from less kind hearted humans.</span></span></div>
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Tail is long and strong and is a source of important social signaling to those
around him such as “This coffee table has too many things on it.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>The Feet:</b> The
feet of a Hound should be large and well knuckled up conferring the versatility
needed to dig up deeply rooted and expensive ornamental shrubs, tunnel under garden
fences and create holes of impressive circumference in everything from a newly
sodded lawn to a king sized bed. Moreover the feet should have the dexterity to
shred a wide range of materials--everything from the finest silk to the
coarsest upholstery, from the daily newspaper to the mail carelessly slipped
through the mail slot. The Feet of a Hound should be able to vigorously bat a
tennis ball around the dining room during a dinner party with the boss or to
painfully thwack a human who is being insufficiently attentive to the Hound
belly.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnPrjbPKB87j28szDXhY4eIiKnGrXI-5OyZ-CF_dtU6QpzQMz1Z3-UIt-0LCFu4arFMk-nZLu4iABg4x1VBf-KeAYtELYCi3iiYizspGaYeYDqOSMrJO6UfXpWmH6wDyyHM9gI5Q0M_0/s1600/P1060101.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnPrjbPKB87j28szDXhY4eIiKnGrXI-5OyZ-CF_dtU6QpzQMz1Z3-UIt-0LCFu4arFMk-nZLu4iABg4x1VBf-KeAYtELYCi3iiYizspGaYeYDqOSMrJO6UfXpWmH6wDyyHM9gI5Q0M_0/s1600/P1060101.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>The Nose:</b> The
Nose is the jewel in a Hound’s crown. <span> </span>It
should be as large as it is intrusive, inserting itself into everything and
anything-- from plates of lasagna to the toilet. The Nose can be used to
investigate and and evaluate the cleanliness of a strangers’ underpants as well
as the contents of his grocery bags The Nose can detect a pile of horse poop or
a discarded sandwich over great distances lending an air of purpose and
importance to the Hound’s demeanor when he drags his human thither. <span> </span>The Nose can detect and discern human
intentions—be they evil, such as those involving the vet or the bathtub or be
they good such as those involving being inattentive around the kitchen counter.
The Nose is quite simply The Master of a Hound’s Universe (and the only one he
listens to).</span></span></div>
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to The Nose, are the Flews. When The Nose sniffs The Flews fill. The Flews of
the Hound should be capacious enough to store sufficient drool to decorate
walls and ceilings and to require recourse to a towel when flung at
humans.<span> </span>Flews are equivalent to a lady’s
purse—they are enormous and used to carry around a disparate collection of
items that can include everything from pills a Hound’s humans want him to
swallow to that filthy tennis ball from the park that is going to find its way
into a human’s bed.<span> </span>Flews can be used to
store things, such as rotting organic matter for later distribution on the
carpet or walls or to hide things such as the pair of lace panties or the expensive
Italian leather glove that have mysteriously gone missing. </span></span></div>
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coat should be glossy as befits a Hound who has routinely gained access to high
fat food consumed by humans. Whether the coat is black and tan, liver, liver
and tan or red it should be dense enough that shedding it (aka porcupining) all
over clothing, rugs and furniture will have no discernible effect on its
luxuriant denseness. Nor will extensive brushing, zoom grooming or furminating.<span> </span>The Coat of the Hound has a distinctive odor
that it impossible to describe, impossible to forget and impossible to get rid
of. Moreover, anything the Hound touches or approaches will also acquire the
scent of a Hound. No amount of scrubbing with shampoo guaranteed to de-stink the
Hound will de-stink the Hound. The distinctive Hound odor will be less noticeable
in the 24-48 hr. post bath period, which generally results in the Hound
artificially accelerating the re-stink process by rolling in decomposing
animals or playing with a skunk, thereby acquiring a so-called “bridging stink”
unless the natural one is available again.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPH6t5gVo7DgS-Ix7Yw-OXzfVodRVS3e_Jl9WmtiH9QwXUhxVE1mJSlokpXszZuFlJQkGeqo35H1P5Q_Like9KKPwpvAs9MLerHihvwS30LD5TX4zwJbYgKb_q5SS6YUD9N9-4rvM6wAg/s1600/P1060090.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPH6t5gVo7DgS-Ix7Yw-OXzfVodRVS3e_Jl9WmtiH9QwXUhxVE1mJSlokpXszZuFlJQkGeqo35H1P5Q_Like9KKPwpvAs9MLerHihvwS30LD5TX4zwJbYgKb_q5SS6YUD9N9-4rvM6wAg/s1600/P1060090.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>I hope this Guide has proved informative.<span> </span>There are a few other bits that modesty and
the family nature of this blog prevent me from expounding upon, but these are
of an equally impressive nature to the anatomical features discussed above.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well I think I will leave it there for this week. I am going
to help Maria pick out a few sweaters which will all be black and tan.
Eventually.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgpW3PHovQkhRmUuYx2fOPntUgNonetAaPx5JExZCAHoANdRjZXMruR-_oPAl7Jp7tdKf2b5_K0RC_E7oH0Fm1Bf48tTXoRkD7wRotmz2l4T-xrnttMrQ4OYjl1UklMJB9544ls-p51A/s1600/P1060106.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimgpW3PHovQkhRmUuYx2fOPntUgNonetAaPx5JExZCAHoANdRjZXMruR-_oPAl7Jp7tdKf2b5_K0RC_E7oH0Fm1Bf48tTXoRkD7wRotmz2l4T-xrnttMrQ4OYjl1UklMJB9544ls-p51A/s1600/P1060106.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Wimsey, an anatomical wonder.</span></span></div>
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<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-62468879205726062062014-10-31T22:16:00.001-04:002014-10-31T22:16:03.259-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #362<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qjXDDmDTh-_SGdkVyI_5dSCfGRu1Fxm5cpELqtLJrDe8DNBPlbKePZCFiez77awNz6QqL-6cfJeDhFBe4uMlckyO1LQtEP9Bjutzcgj515GJ6PqbTnylv9lUBoMk8yj8pl4nv0tYc2Y/s1600/P1060033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qjXDDmDTh-_SGdkVyI_5dSCfGRu1Fxm5cpELqtLJrDe8DNBPlbKePZCFiez77awNz6QqL-6cfJeDhFBe4uMlckyO1LQtEP9Bjutzcgj515GJ6PqbTnylv9lUBoMk8yj8pl4nv0tYc2Y/s1600/P1060033.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjXHsmPy1GiJHRZYsdXsbxWakQN7-sKxVCQlOYvCTKweAU_yAcvnWq9QB-oHGFD5TRZV1NNhtIzzWPFPoS8WYB1Vmo-7W3HRXbbZ_3nS7PeTjlmp2Q9IDcU6KXhsbiUuSVSIDlvEnqms/s1600/P1060022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #362</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>October 31, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello and “Boo” Everyone! It’s me, Wimsey, coming to you
from the spooky precincts of the Upper West Side of Manhattan where the
costumed throngs are hitting the streets with a vengeance. <span> </span>My human Maria and her friend Elizabeth do not
need the excuse of Halloween to dress up since they are costumed every day in
my livery as befits their status as Servants of the Great Hound. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHJAr6M5UA16ND9Ju0GcRLtJtxhgF-hAJJgdZVibBCxv3jAkMpYY5KcoAyi_dCA1VzlDuYj_EqnhYKrs55_StUcd1zPBme2RDFqNTD39kES2TS7ErBNWDPyJlx5BvKD40cVRwjDBvojA/s1600/P1060026.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHJAr6M5UA16ND9Ju0GcRLtJtxhgF-hAJJgdZVibBCxv3jAkMpYY5KcoAyi_dCA1VzlDuYj_EqnhYKrs55_StUcd1zPBme2RDFqNTD39kES2TS7ErBNWDPyJlx5BvKD40cVRwjDBvojA/s1600/P1060026.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></span>For the
uninitiated, Hound livery consists of drool (and worse) stained garments in
dark colors (under the largely false assumption that dark colors hide the drool
better) that is accessorized with a large bag or fanny pack containing Hound
and snack paraphernalia.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span></span>On their feet
they wear high traction footwear that can comfortably withstand an infinite
amount of walking. Of course their costumes also consist of being The Invisible
Human since they are seldom noticed when I am around.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbBLOx0HGUdCElomrkjlkeJzZW1L7rvBCEZub1WzIGRFLczHKbWarj4wl9Ot8vko-0elHLluRAzBZO33agNb3w_CNrQWoExdSvZe-m1Irg_mMLXeO7obNdKTMmavjumnCTyj-pUh53rCc/s1600/P1060048.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbBLOx0HGUdCElomrkjlkeJzZW1L7rvBCEZub1WzIGRFLczHKbWarj4wl9Ot8vko-0elHLluRAzBZO33agNb3w_CNrQWoExdSvZe-m1Irg_mMLXeO7obNdKTMmavjumnCTyj-pUh53rCc/s1600/P1060048.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvXT-hBx6pxXK0uYyLhII1vT-eMMK-HMdgdCZyGtmyhDFNvV3BR1m7R8V14tGSfSYnrePSikN56XQ8RpTPMhHaJNfWDHI-YGHvGuEMP-bsT13zqaLxinFwr0b_QQjk_tPy19TpkZAjcY/s1600/P1060056.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well Happy Halloween to all my readers who, unlike me, may
not be lucky enough to engage in “trick or treat” on a daily basis.<span> </span>My humans are well aware that when I demand a
treat failure to comply in a timely manner will result in a “trick” (and not
the kind that humans generally use to show off the intelligence of their canine
companions). Such tricks may include gluing myself to the furniture when it is
time to have my walking equipment put on or planting myself in the middle of a
busy sidewalk until turkey is produced or rolling around in the grass rather
than walk in an undesirable direction or refusing to stop lifting my voice in
song, etc. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvXT-hBx6pxXK0uYyLhII1vT-eMMK-HMdgdCZyGtmyhDFNvV3BR1m7R8V14tGSfSYnrePSikN56XQ8RpTPMhHaJNfWDHI-YGHvGuEMP-bsT13zqaLxinFwr0b_QQjk_tPy19TpkZAjcY/s1600/P1060056.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></span>Or like yesterday, when I
stared at Elizabeth to indicate that she was required to remove herself from
the couch and come scratch me. Her willful disregard of this command earned her
a trick: <span> </span>I got up on the couch, being
very careful to use my talon-equipped bear claws to shred the newspaper she was
reading before planting my posterior on it.<span>
</span>In general, the Wimsey Treats are less related to food than to giving
Wimsey anything that he wants. My point being that really every day is pretty
much Halloween around here.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepzs3ZNxczYZQ1UfgKiykt8-Y0G4zJX2zAktJYpCutlNJtXCXlfSrWtPwjRMKnH6qlBHvmJkK4i5Bqwo2U50Drsy8gXOl58sXVf6KVecKo05JyrM6_41nQBytbD3Ip_BN9l4LewOj1tg/s1600/P1060039.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepzs3ZNxczYZQ1UfgKiykt8-Y0G4zJX2zAktJYpCutlNJtXCXlfSrWtPwjRMKnH6qlBHvmJkK4i5Bqwo2U50Drsy8gXOl58sXVf6KVecKo05JyrM6_41nQBytbD3Ip_BN9l4LewOj1tg/s1600/P1060039.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeGZCEbOrt-DPG9YdOevoN3RDmKPiGFULLCJRSaXNMH8DblcnxE8CEe9itXxPRL0P27Siw89CZ2J93uQ7Z216mzXTE3hStwHYaikMHaTtC9AiMBV3RBS1aWBkg8G1wT1sJ3i83MneQZ9I/s1600/P1060055.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, this will be a short post since I spent the
afternoon in Central Park where the cool, damp and cloudy conditions were
perfect for a scent obsessed Hound such as myself.<span> </span>Also added to the allure was that people from
all over the world are here for the New York City Marathon and there is
apparently a positive correlation between people who run marathons and people
who love Hounds. <span> </span>Our lengthy park
sojourn also forced Elizabeth to conduct a business call with an important
European client whilst standing in the middle of a large field trying to manage
my activities. Mostly this consisted of puling out snacks to stuff in my mouth
so I wouldn’t bay (too much) and gesticulating towards her headset when people tried
to chat with her about me. </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeGZCEbOrt-DPG9YdOevoN3RDmKPiGFULLCJRSaXNMH8DblcnxE8CEe9itXxPRL0P27Siw89CZ2J93uQ7Z216mzXTE3hStwHYaikMHaTtC9AiMBV3RBS1aWBkg8G1wT1sJ3i83MneQZ9I/s1600/P1060055.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeGZCEbOrt-DPG9YdOevoN3RDmKPiGFULLCJRSaXNMH8DblcnxE8CEe9itXxPRL0P27Siw89CZ2J93uQ7Z216mzXTE3hStwHYaikMHaTtC9AiMBV3RBS1aWBkg8G1wT1sJ3i83MneQZ9I/s1600/P1060055.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But we interrupt this blog post for:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Breaking News: A
Special Report from CNN</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Wolf Blitzer:</b>
Hello and thanks for joining us. I am Wolf Blitzer joined by Anderson Cooper here
in New York City covering a fast breaking story!<span> </span>We are foregoing our usual coverage of
gruesome wars and natural disasters to report that New York has been invaded by
a pack of Hound Zombies!</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3dE-2JZMnTcx3_KRPka-8gbZB5JX-UYvAZzDjZc-Oo-zGfKqGWf0IEIq66zJyvSx18tiADy5gqrGm_hJxeHsYrqYb4vqkcP5pfXAKsxp8UGkyBeCAsdEA8nRtRp5CGPx-VRmdeYn9T4Y/s1600/P1060028.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3dE-2JZMnTcx3_KRPka-8gbZB5JX-UYvAZzDjZc-Oo-zGfKqGWf0IEIq66zJyvSx18tiADy5gqrGm_hJxeHsYrqYb4vqkcP5pfXAKsxp8UGkyBeCAsdEA8nRtRp5CGPx-VRmdeYn9T4Y/s1600/P1060028.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anderson Cooper:</b>
Do they have Ebola?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Wolf:</b> I don’t think
so, but we can always hope! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Anderson:</b> How
would you quarantine Zombies? I can’t see them agreeing to stop eating human
flesh for 3 weeks. Wouldn’t that kill them?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Wolf:</b> Good point,
but aren’t they already dead? Let’s ask the Mayor?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMcVRxbqUORclN50-RJOnI3gyjCpnsQCq6eolm7tidoGFmx2FO780lpOWX3oWIua51Fwz9xBKC5aNUT44Fj0erSb6GCGwpq4FBp86ME8T99zgSZynxp2e1ldoy3Nx3Rf-wv-R3EtyAvU/s1600/P1060059.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMcVRxbqUORclN50-RJOnI3gyjCpnsQCq6eolm7tidoGFmx2FO780lpOWX3oWIua51Fwz9xBKC5aNUT44Fj0erSb6GCGwpq4FBp86ME8T99zgSZynxp2e1ldoy3Nx3Rf-wv-R3EtyAvU/s1600/P1060059.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anderson:</b> Isn’t
he in Bermuda?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Wolf:</b> No, they
have a new one. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Mayor De Blasio:</b>
This is Bill De Blasio the mayor who doesn’t have a house in Bermuda. But my
Brooklyn house did rent for $ 5,000 a month. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqQcafoq60paRTOud1WCNboUc8QpYTvRYxCo75yYUzEaB9T54m831y8KnJAXZ5i8Zf2Z4g8_1eCzpbgwdrYJWEVSNPgNqUYrvOvksCYx-uhq1oV1b8UKc_DsDmDxHz4tq6wEyEhrxtMk/s1600/P1060073.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anderson:</b> Really?
Just $5,000 for an entire house in New York?! Does it have a roof? <span> </span>But I digress. We want to ask about the plan for
quarantining these Ebola- infected Zombies that have invaded New York City.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqQcafoq60paRTOud1WCNboUc8QpYTvRYxCo75yYUzEaB9T54m831y8KnJAXZ5i8Zf2Z4g8_1eCzpbgwdrYJWEVSNPgNqUYrvOvksCYx-uhq1oV1b8UKc_DsDmDxHz4tq6wEyEhrxtMk/s1600/P1060073.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqQcafoq60paRTOud1WCNboUc8QpYTvRYxCo75yYUzEaB9T54m831y8KnJAXZ5i8Zf2Z4g8_1eCzpbgwdrYJWEVSNPgNqUYrvOvksCYx-uhq1oV1b8UKc_DsDmDxHz4tq6wEyEhrxtMk/s1600/P1060073.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Mayor De Blasio:</b>
Oh no! The Zombies have Ebola too! Nobody tells me anything! And it’s hard
enough getting those doctors and nurses to go into quarantine!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Anderson:</b> So can
we infer that the city has failed to develop protocols for dealing with Ebola
carrying Zombies? </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJ4rv1N_zrhiNo7DbKa9B9ttZeJtXhKsaJ0wzcDbGO3Zmx781oszJiqIQuVpYdZT46u5diuOm01sRnkPQ3cWz3dd4xa1xye9SfpY1Lixq7FB7kd0OJQ-nD6QHZrxyihe-tlubLRwvXrI/s1600/P1060041.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJ4rv1N_zrhiNo7DbKa9B9ttZeJtXhKsaJ0wzcDbGO3Zmx781oszJiqIQuVpYdZT46u5diuOm01sRnkPQ3cWz3dd4xa1xye9SfpY1Lixq7FB7kd0OJQ-nD6QHZrxyihe-tlubLRwvXrI/s1600/P1060041.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Wolf:</b> I think we
are getting ahead of ourselves Anderson. As personally exciting as Ebola-infected
Zombies would be to all of us here at CNN, I believe that the Zombies in
question are Hound Zombies and I don’t think that they are susceptible to Ebola.
They might be carrying giardia though.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Anderson:</b> But
diarrhea is not nearly as exciting as a Lethal Hemorrhagic Virus!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Please tell me that at least they are feasting on human
flesh throughout the five boroughs?</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvXT-hBx6pxXK0uYyLhII1vT-eMMK-HMdgdCZyGtmyhDFNvV3BR1m7R8V14tGSfSYnrePSikN56XQ8RpTPMhHaJNfWDHI-YGHvGuEMP-bsT13zqaLxinFwr0b_QQjk_tPy19TpkZAjcY/s1600/P1060056.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvXT-hBx6pxXK0uYyLhII1vT-eMMK-HMdgdCZyGtmyhDFNvV3BR1m7R8V14tGSfSYnrePSikN56XQ8RpTPMhHaJNfWDHI-YGHvGuEMP-bsT13zqaLxinFwr0b_QQjk_tPy19TpkZAjcY/s1600/P1060056.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_q_xEm7s5M5SaKZJ22DOWbmFVuH_EDzmogs_3N9hVCmwthcsHP0NZ44mLcmPK8S82WJwlAgDUzFBNUbhr7NeViOQCkDNev1dUH5RfbAm1YtwX7VlIgJnvfLm8nC4WThc5ESBHBBfNgA/s1600/P1060053.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Wolf:</b> Well so far
it seems that they are feasting on couches and used panties. And garbage. A lot
of garbage.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Anderson:</b> That doesn’t
sound like typical Zombie behavior. Have you checked your sources Wolf?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Wolf:</b> Hold it
Anderson! <span> </span>This just in! It’s not a pack
of Zombie Hounds, it’s a pack of regular Hounds!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Anderson:</b> How
could they make such a mistake Wolf?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_q_xEm7s5M5SaKZJ22DOWbmFVuH_EDzmogs_3N9hVCmwthcsHP0NZ44mLcmPK8S82WJwlAgDUzFBNUbhr7NeViOQCkDNev1dUH5RfbAm1YtwX7VlIgJnvfLm8nC4WThc5ESBHBBfNgA/s1600/P1060053.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_q_xEm7s5M5SaKZJ22DOWbmFVuH_EDzmogs_3N9hVCmwthcsHP0NZ44mLcmPK8S82WJwlAgDUzFBNUbhr7NeViOQCkDNev1dUH5RfbAm1YtwX7VlIgJnvfLm8nC4WThc5ESBHBBfNgA/s1600/P1060053.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Wolf:</b> It was the
smell Anderson. Apparently they were mislead by the vile odor emanating from
the pack and concluded that nothing normal could produce such a stench. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Anderson:</b> Well
that’s disappointing. Clearly they are not Hound people. But we still have
Major De Blasio on the line! He must be good for some news.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Wolf:</b> Tell us Mr.
Mayor, what is your position on ferrets?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkpEyhXLpXaXmnLuvuBKb19tmP-zigzmfRfNFgbs4cSKdX_nWW-zEN-9eh4Fdumer89KMG9JzwVY56fB4clvBAPjGuZLUBGP-dVXxnEWyCRkEWO8tn_8zmEYv0YQ9msivse0hwrTgAAA/s1600/P1060060.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAkpEyhXLpXaXmnLuvuBKb19tmP-zigzmfRfNFgbs4cSKdX_nWW-zEN-9eh4Fdumer89KMG9JzwVY56fB4clvBAPjGuZLUBGP-dVXxnEWyCRkEWO8tn_8zmEYv0YQ9msivse0hwrTgAAA/s1600/P1060060.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anderson:</b> And do
you think they carry Ebola?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well Halloween would not be complete without a scary Zombie
story would it?<span> </span>And while we are at it,
why don’t we look in on Dick and Jane and see how they are doing on Halloween:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfebDW_TwkAHl068SKdY7VuHLlkvO52p8UpeqCBhue1HpNcYY0kyeOA74shw5L_1pVkPNK3RsBAzVte1H32CiLtl_Bsrbn78COVKqJFSr6HUWw9pX6FZ6i82-tx9R_uN0biDIR-l14JE/s1600/P1060065.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXfebDW_TwkAHl068SKdY7VuHLlkvO52p8UpeqCBhue1HpNcYY0kyeOA74shw5L_1pVkPNK3RsBAzVte1H32CiLtl_Bsrbn78COVKqJFSr6HUWw9pX6FZ6i82-tx9R_uN0biDIR-l14JE/s1600/P1060065.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Halloween with Dick
and Jane</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick. See Jane. It is Halloween.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I like Halloween!” said Dick </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I like Halloween! “Said Jane</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick’s Hound. Dick’s Hound also likes Halloween.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I am going to be Batman!” said Dick</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I am going to be a princess!” said Jane.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Dick’s Hound is going to be a Hound.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I like to trick or treat!” said Dick</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I like to trick or treat!” said Jane.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Dick’s Hound also likes to trick or treat.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">It is a dark night.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I am scared of the dark,” said Jane.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Do not worry Jane,” said Dick. “My Hound will protect us.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick and Jane go trick or treating.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick ring a neighbor’s door bell, “Ring, Ring!’</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Hello children” said the neighbor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I am Batman!” said Dick</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I am a princess!” said Jane</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Trick or treat!” say Dick and Jane.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Who is that?” asked the neighbor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“That is my Hound,” said Dick.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“His costume is the best,” said the neighbor</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Jane cry.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Here is some candy children,” said the neighbor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Look at all the candy!” said Dick. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Look at all the candy! said Jane.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick’s Hound. See Dick’s Hound look at all the candy.
See Dick’s Hound drool. Dick’s Hound likes candy. Dick’s Hound is bigger than
Dick. Dick’s Hound is bigger than Jane.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick and Jane cry.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick’s mother. See Jane’s mother.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Will the children eat too much sugar?” asks Jane’s mother</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“No” replies Dick’s mother. “Dick and Jane will not eat any
sugar,” she says.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">THE END</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmtifZzPho9O6a3E3fjur6yM4YCn3ub4bvWbBeQAla4RSgAC9d5AiUZdy_x4XTWqm6loe9rmSs1RDB26Wb10gEMQcPgbWBJwx1oID02DHeCI2eVVs8tF3ENaJYypxigA863-YZpGxZjw/s1600/P1060069.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUmtifZzPho9O6a3E3fjur6yM4YCn3ub4bvWbBeQAla4RSgAC9d5AiUZdy_x4XTWqm6loe9rmSs1RDB26Wb10gEMQcPgbWBJwx1oID02DHeCI2eVVs8tF3ENaJYypxigA863-YZpGxZjw/s1600/P1060069.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And in honor of the holiday I also did a little trick or
treating that did not involve my humans—I stopped off at Little Creatures on my
way home from today’s lengthy park perambulation and demanded a treat. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, I think I will leave it there for now. I have a marathon
to rest up for. A marathon of what is the question—and one that is best left to
the imagination.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, Halloween Hound</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjXHsmPy1GiJHRZYsdXsbxWakQN7-sKxVCQlOYvCTKweAU_yAcvnWq9QB-oHGFD5TRZV1NNhtIzzWPFPoS8WYB1Vmo-7W3HRXbbZ_3nS7PeTjlmp2Q9IDcU6KXhsbiUuSVSIDlvEnqms/s1600/P1060022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjXHsmPy1GiJHRZYsdXsbxWakQN7-sKxVCQlOYvCTKweAU_yAcvnWq9QB-oHGFD5TRZV1NNhtIzzWPFPoS8WYB1Vmo-7W3HRXbbZ_3nS7PeTjlmp2Q9IDcU6KXhsbiUuSVSIDlvEnqms/s1600/P1060022.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-65622882194518980342014-10-25T18:52:00.002-04:002014-10-25T18:56:17.407-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #361<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexoh2UG-cRXwKYmyhYJhEwlxgPE5CWj_zNAOmlpWDRbsFet8TB1HYagKJTrnJV6MszhLUVG8tK_ASW42k10bhCiRNi0Io2oJVqumJYnmz5Xgkvd_zh3WRAFOqxXcEQbmvhZM2ICTsxsU/s1600/P1050980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhexoh2UG-cRXwKYmyhYJhEwlxgPE5CWj_zNAOmlpWDRbsFet8TB1HYagKJTrnJV6MszhLUVG8tK_ASW42k10bhCiRNi0Io2oJVqumJYnmz5Xgkvd_zh3WRAFOqxXcEQbmvhZM2ICTsxsU/s1600/P1050980.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></span></a>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Entry #361<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">October 25, 2014<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hello Everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from the finally
autumnal precincts of Manhattan’s Upper West Side where it has been a rather
busy week. With the advent of the cooler weather I have been on a mission to
bring the Great Outdoors to my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth to the
greatest extent possible. At least when I am in the mood. And as is my quixotic, Houndly nature, you
just never know. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOtsKX-hqsJ5OasUpB4lAEhYhSz_2HX2ZxkF_9fHANs647_DWwKze0lD3qDc-NPTfIITqL8P0P3UbSfHErlbQJ3iv7tXBKUMaKd9XqmYq1HcX0anKAUEBjVBAFfewvDQqUGPosOS7cm4/s1600/P1050977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOtsKX-hqsJ5OasUpB4lAEhYhSz_2HX2ZxkF_9fHANs647_DWwKze0lD3qDc-NPTfIITqL8P0P3UbSfHErlbQJ3iv7tXBKUMaKd9XqmYq1HcX0anKAUEBjVBAFfewvDQqUGPosOS7cm4/s1600/P1050977.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For instance, on Wednesday I was scheduled for my twice a
year ultrasound review of my innards. These ultrasounds became another of the
Wimsey Medical Traditions when it became apparent that my prostate has a
regrettable tendency to develop abscesses. Should abscesses develop, they need
to be dealt with pronto to avoid the need for extensive medical intervention.
And of course while the vets are poking about, they also like to have a gander
at my other internal organs to make sure that nothing untoward is brewing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG5n2K2PCr300GEVnJN4L6Q6iJa80XyiTDr-JZw65bDtV5C6A2hwg698YwcEsI6ilkJ8V49GXR36z8vrjb8tyd9nhL_z624O-n0ehjsBqTSGWwqIdgEmVIpeL_e3wPQchFnVkROfqQ3zQ/s1600/P1050986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG5n2K2PCr300GEVnJN4L6Q6iJa80XyiTDr-JZw65bDtV5C6A2hwg698YwcEsI6ilkJ8V49GXR36z8vrjb8tyd9nhL_z624O-n0ehjsBqTSGWwqIdgEmVIpeL_e3wPQchFnVkROfqQ3zQ/s1600/P1050986.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well Wednesday dawned horrifically stormy and after reading
the morning Hound Report from Maria, Elizabeth decided a postponement might be
in order given that I had pretty much refused to take care of any morning
business and then eschewed my breakfast, repairing instead to the bed in high
dudgeon. There is nothing so irksome to
a Hound as the unauthorized release of moisture upon his delicate frame. At least on bath day (which occurred on
Monday this week) there is the compensatory feeding of turkey, soaking of
Elizabeth, destruction of the bathroom and awarding of a cooked lunch and bully
stick. All rain has to offer is my
soaked humans’ exhortations to relieve myself when all suitable places to do so
have ceased to exist because of the rain.
Soaked humans, by the way, are much more satisfying when it is I, and
not Mother Nature, who is doing the soaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzDMKXPvEmUepk7q5lHcNTyQf9KXx43fdzRN3ioxWcCvK3TNalpZM8PUGcwKiJ8r44WNx-wstz6lU9vnjll_jJZFcnePVrLjmtgUpqKg-uVXHozKbEPwakuDhv_8BnDc3OmNntRXDG3s/s1600/P1060017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzDMKXPvEmUepk7q5lHcNTyQf9KXx43fdzRN3ioxWcCvK3TNalpZM8PUGcwKiJ8r44WNx-wstz6lU9vnjll_jJZFcnePVrLjmtgUpqKg-uVXHozKbEPwakuDhv_8BnDc3OmNntRXDG3s/s1600/P1060017.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But I digress. In
spite of the fact that we were due for two days of this wet weather, Elizabeth
postponed our Wednesday walk to the specialist vet clinic until Thursday
(specialist vet clinics being a requirement for the ultrasounding of me because
regular equipment is apparently of insufficient size). And so, as you might
expect, by Wednesday afternoon it had stopped raining and a lovely breezy, gray
day ensued. This is pretty much my
favorite kind of weather—no obnoxious sunbeams to flee, cool temperatures and
massive amounts of scent swirling about my olfactory organ. Fortunately, Elizabeth really likes this kind
of weather too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLlzQ2VsQXX0jIxF2YMkJfv9PD3j6HHDhhTbyX_5SL6QM3MlHt6QxusMRowjZO_rFVz9nEzMB9BzF9fVlMoys740W633NwpgLFwXa4eoAoNGquZ_vpJeT7NfTwKJ4YaHXhbM8TMoMkdGY/s1600/P1060019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLlzQ2VsQXX0jIxF2YMkJfv9PD3j6HHDhhTbyX_5SL6QM3MlHt6QxusMRowjZO_rFVz9nEzMB9BzF9fVlMoys740W633NwpgLFwXa4eoAoNGquZ_vpJeT7NfTwKJ4YaHXhbM8TMoMkdGY/s1600/P1060019.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And before you express skepticism that I would know anything
about Elizabeth’s feelings, given that I understand no English (or any other
language in which my humans attempt to communicate their desires to me), I will
let you in on a Hound Secret. I know
that Elizabeth likes this weather because I can smell that she likes this weather.
That’s right, we canines like to take credit for being mind readers or being
socially sensitive enough to know what our humans are feeling--as in “Fido is
amazing—he knew that I was sad and started kissing my face”. Of course if Fido were a Hound he would be
doing that not because his human was sad but because of the accessibility of
the remnants of her last meal. Anyway,
humans smell different depending on their moods and emotions so I can smell (and
exploit) Elizabeth’s pleasure at the cool, breezy gray day. It goes without
saying that if humans cannot smell, see or hear something they believe it does
not exist, hence the canine ability to reap kudos for breathing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsBoRPwIZeVCbILZ5cqxmYcUI48NPnlbT903xEKsab0Wfwghb3AJCUjCeeZnkTPCw0KVq2Qf6z69vN0hqplaFhwu2TaykS8Dlij-L6CvWkaLT-_bcC74DJJm7pANKjiZDSPSZk_Pj5LI/s1600/P1050994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNsBoRPwIZeVCbILZ5cqxmYcUI48NPnlbT903xEKsab0Wfwghb3AJCUjCeeZnkTPCw0KVq2Qf6z69vN0hqplaFhwu2TaykS8Dlij-L6CvWkaLT-_bcC74DJJm7pANKjiZDSPSZk_Pj5LI/s1600/P1050994.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So in honor of these splendid conditions, I kept Elizabeth
out and about for a good chunk of the afternoon and demanded and received much
turkey en route to make up for the lack of breakfast. This lack was also
reflected in the extra turkey and chicken in my food bowl which was most
gratifying. (Good servants are hard to find).
Thursday, however, was a completely different story. It poured. All day. And in spite of taking the shortest route to
the clinic which is only about a mile away, Elizabeth and I both arrived
soaking wet. I made my displeasure known
by relentlessly attempting to bolt while we checked in and were it not for the
presence of the Heinous Gentle Leader, I would have succeeded. Anyway, I was much relieved that the
procedure to be performed was the warm gel massage ultrasound as opposed to all
the other veterinary crimes regularly perpetrated upon me. I was in and out in
a trice and Elizabeth had to listen to the vet tech waxing poetic about how happy
the radiologist was to see me again (and how delightfully normal my innards
appeared) and how I was an amazingly well behaved animal. My humans love hearing about how well behaved
I am –I can tell because they get tight, fixed smiles and grind their teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgIaQL2QyAaPy6Gh47FAsYD_O_HAEPaBqYYm7_uMEkeKOK4Eu7tVfqiDBR4SPsV1gcTid3ogcHniXhA-vW2fRjil7q88XaA5hfswN-P63k0Zh8F6YttC9LaDt34H2I2XXAe1Qgk_Kzsk/s1600/P1060003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgIaQL2QyAaPy6Gh47FAsYD_O_HAEPaBqYYm7_uMEkeKOK4Eu7tVfqiDBR4SPsV1gcTid3ogcHniXhA-vW2fRjil7q88XaA5hfswN-P63k0Zh8F6YttC9LaDt34H2I2XXAe1Qgk_Kzsk/s1600/P1060003.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><o:p><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, after the forking over of the credit card (another
key part of the Wimsey Medical Ritual) and the re-caparisoning of me in my red
raincoat, we were off! And because it was still pouring, Elizabeth assumed,
quite erroneously, that I would choose the shortest way back to shelter. But suddenly
I found the rain and wind no impediment at all since it is one of my hard and
fast rules that the walk down to the vet clinic does not constitute a proper
afternoon walk and therefore it was still owing. The fact that there was a
possible route that included the out of the way Greenland Pet Store (and the
not so out of the way Greenland Pet Store cat) was entirely beside the
point. So snout to the wind, I successfully
pointed us thither exploiting the guilt that Elizabeth felt about subjecting me
to the warm gel massage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdMBW4lA9ak2nfQfJZn4v3TmQMGAJYAG7tuLiesNV-_KmKBZvd1D08lmWD5mblbRJRRZIXUS2Wy0ubs_TZb6OL8yht3NHEsp-imLSByW-rGpFlW265a1KHW_thfyXmiwjsvEDgicCVJg/s1600/P1060014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdMBW4lA9ak2nfQfJZn4v3TmQMGAJYAG7tuLiesNV-_KmKBZvd1D08lmWD5mblbRJRRZIXUS2Wy0ubs_TZb6OL8yht3NHEsp-imLSByW-rGpFlW265a1KHW_thfyXmiwjsvEDgicCVJg/s1600/P1060014.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Once arrived at our destination I did my usual cat hunting
and merchandise sniffing and then parked myself in front of the clerk and
stared. Elizabeth explained that I wanted her to feed me a snack. So the lady took one look at the size of me
and did the prudent thing: she put the snack on the floor. This caused me to
look about with confusion—my way of asking, “Why is there a snack on the
floor?” Elizabeth explained to the clerk
that I have a very soft mouth and that she could safely feed me the snack. The
lady picked up the snack, but I could tell she was skeptical—she gave it to me
on the palm of her hand instead of presenting it to me between the fingers as I
prefer. Or better yet, placed inside my
mouth so as to avoid the possibility of the snack getting stuck in my capacious
flews. Having a snack lodged in a Hound’s flews is the canine equivalent of it being
stuck in the Marianas Trench. Working it out of there requires extensive oral contortions
and my humans’ incredulity about my ability to spend that amount of time still eating
one snack. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGI23b0iGUG8fW_y0kBjmSvhkYpy4-TpJXT_cuhQ-0P42x5G8zyA-pVSfyNq-J8T97iu1mNZgw3UTi6va3yglReEXsQ_-eosvZQIiFYun-u7HQ1nQ7OA9nXT-_e31G7RPw6MWdqaqzq6c/s1600/P1050991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGI23b0iGUG8fW_y0kBjmSvhkYpy4-TpJXT_cuhQ-0P42x5G8zyA-pVSfyNq-J8T97iu1mNZgw3UTi6va3yglReEXsQ_-eosvZQIiFYun-u7HQ1nQ7OA9nXT-_e31G7RPw6MWdqaqzq6c/s1600/P1050991.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, about an hour and a half later (and in possession of
a tasty bag of expensive treats but sadly not the cat) I finally allowed myself
to be taken back to Elizabeth’s to undergo the ordeal of a towel massage and a large
lunch of Guilt Chicken. So as to predicting
my rain walking behavior, (or any of my other behaviors), I have one thing to
say: “Good luck with that”. Needless to
say, all this was reported to Maria who had borne the brunt of my refusal to
engage in any of the desired matinal activities and this was now especially
aggravating (or satisfying depending on your point of view) in light of my
subsequent compliance <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlkfojkKmzbrmjgvMtJCyIePo1vPZIrP18d-GRT1Y63Jf_9j1ZsYjxKmHzPWHB7M3iui-EtpMtoA_z-cbEAtC-T-mdzgMNGnGJYl4mvxhW2_0-Vm-Ju-KIltQFyNnrarmkAc1Hw_FHqY/s1600/P1060009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlkfojkKmzbrmjgvMtJCyIePo1vPZIrP18d-GRT1Y63Jf_9j1ZsYjxKmHzPWHB7M3iui-EtpMtoA_z-cbEAtC-T-mdzgMNGnGJYl4mvxhW2_0-Vm-Ju-KIltQFyNnrarmkAc1Hw_FHqY/s1600/P1060009.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In short, I am in fine fettle. So much so that I managed to “fall”
into the Lake yesterday in Central Park whilst Elizabeth’s attention was
momentarily diverted by the appearance of a Korean bride in full regalia. This resulted in my legs being green with
algae and I am happy to report that you can’t wash algae off using water from a
fountain. I spent the remainder of the two-hour
walk sporting smelly organic green socks. A good ultrasound report will do
things like that to a fellow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1NmppWXG7qsvrrbRcCsdA1gPUuZhRIwDlr72dJn65karO4ur_8HIS37b7pmgKv9lffx_KikzK_otQfvZ9mupEXc_WfGqiVfbBKOuFQ8dtZZXSiW2mS7Y2WzjOUvaLrjKyuHqxOhweGI/s1600/P1050988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1NmppWXG7qsvrrbRcCsdA1gPUuZhRIwDlr72dJn65karO4ur_8HIS37b7pmgKv9lffx_KikzK_otQfvZ9mupEXc_WfGqiVfbBKOuFQ8dtZZXSiW2mS7Y2WzjOUvaLrjKyuHqxOhweGI/s1600/P1050988.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And here I am being petted by a group of soon to be slimed visitors.
I especially enjoyed the guy in the hat to the left, since he was thoughtful enough
to inquire as to whether I would like to consume the rest of the beef jerky he
had in his pocket (human beef jerky, lest there be in any doubt). And he was brave enough not to put it on the
ground. He was right up there with the
lady who hand fed me the chicken out of her sandwich last week. Is it any
wonder that when my cadging by charm is ineffective I resort to following
people around baying at them to fork over the goods. (And as an aside when I am
dancing, poking and drooling my way around my humans to indicate that I want
something they’ve got and they say “Wimsey go away!” they smell like “Come over
here and dance, poke and drool some more!”
I can smell that they think my antics are entertaining no matter how
much they protest to the contrary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIsSKuH2TZBRlPBqaLoOXCrULBiN4C8cO5cHQ0xSCcMoRPhFoDYUDcyvWpx28TAEH2pdZsIFAAbz6MmRpojrOZ_w86_j_ctO82ka1jn3CIpmT3KApY-Tae8yCo57XT5liYveKOmE-z7I/s1600/P1050998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIsSKuH2TZBRlPBqaLoOXCrULBiN4C8cO5cHQ0xSCcMoRPhFoDYUDcyvWpx28TAEH2pdZsIFAAbz6MmRpojrOZ_w86_j_ctO82ka1jn3CIpmT3KApY-Tae8yCo57XT5liYveKOmE-z7I/s1600/P1050998.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyway, I think that wraps it up for this week. Halloween is
Friday and as usual I am relieved to report that there are no ridiculous costumes
in my future. My humans think the one I wear every day is ridiculous enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Until next time,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Wimsey, Veterinary medicine’s answer to building that new
swimming pool<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Entry #360</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>October 18, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from my abode on
the Upper West Side in the Great Houndopolis of New York City.<span> </span>I hope everyone missed me---although absence
does generally make the heart grow fonder I am often told that my absence makes
the blood pressure grow lower.<span> </span>As usual,
you can blame my missing post last week on my human Maria and her friend
Elizabeth who claimed to need their computers for the futile task of trying to
make more money than I spend.<span> </span>Elizabeth
was hard at work on a “proposal” and I hope that she has more luck getting it
accepted than I do my proposals. These proposals usually involve things like spending
the entire day in Central Park or visiting every pet shop on the Upper West
Side and then baying at the staff until they feed me snacks, and they usually
fall on deaf ears (or those made deaf by their close proximity to an
acoustically robust Hound). </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwEFKl4-hnkIWN2djDS7xuI3HL2AbLqhXLCNTHBzpP84u_oGOJcUSN4oymml4HwzwJDHlD5ODG_4-98-dUlog7nTJE2C-qb8pI82WVLWwoIwTtOaGtmbuxfCAikncdPx9EydDremwJns/s1600/P1050950.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGphUEea4Q7W7qCRjUkZB77-e_lN7zoZMHRQKpvBE9Vo-fEkGBVPNkWOgJiieXLoWcXbxlyFRm22wFsvi16zr49_ggxZ7dm6B2vKneLA_0dduzq3QDKJ7Wr0_0ZlhgGLajo9lRE8ATN8s/s1600/P1050916.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGphUEea4Q7W7qCRjUkZB77-e_lN7zoZMHRQKpvBE9Vo-fEkGBVPNkWOgJiieXLoWcXbxlyFRm22wFsvi16zr49_ggxZ7dm6B2vKneLA_0dduzq3QDKJ7Wr0_0ZlhgGLajo9lRE8ATN8s/s1600/P1050916.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>Anyway, in the interim I missed posting about Columbus Day,
which is traditionally celebrated by Hounds discovering the contents of the
refrigerator, the garbage bin or the laundry basket. I also missed discussing
the Bloodhound Nationals in Sacramento.<span>
</span>For the uninitiated, the Bloodhound Nationals are an event where people
assemble from all over the country (and all over the world!) to show and admire
bloodhounds (psychiatrists not included). </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwEFKl4-hnkIWN2djDS7xuI3HL2AbLqhXLCNTHBzpP84u_oGOJcUSN4oymml4HwzwJDHlD5ODG_4-98-dUlog7nTJE2C-qb8pI82WVLWwoIwTtOaGtmbuxfCAikncdPx9EydDremwJns/s1600/P1050950.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqwEFKl4-hnkIWN2djDS7xuI3HL2AbLqhXLCNTHBzpP84u_oGOJcUSN4oymml4HwzwJDHlD5ODG_4-98-dUlog7nTJE2C-qb8pI82WVLWwoIwTtOaGtmbuxfCAikncdPx9EydDremwJns/s1600/P1050950.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>For those of you who have normal
breeds of dog, suffice it to say that the bloodhound is a creature that takes
everything and gives nothing (hence the probable need for the psychiatrists) and
whose invariable response to any human wish is a laconic “Don’t care”. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>(Although
sometimes the more transactional among us will respond with “Whatcha got?”)<span> </span>But of course we are very cute.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtd3n_T6GMy6f0OMv2P_60sUHOzo07nlszzXsjfegf2f5mmHyFksNpK_bqB361Tk4HEF-q0ALP5wIgVwFFPHWrlZKTHNGIY4vNAbPP5rmlbOD-FpWpHREZiEOFMcndMzIqzrcVglLtnM/s1600/P1050925.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtd3n_T6GMy6f0OMv2P_60sUHOzo07nlszzXsjfegf2f5mmHyFksNpK_bqB361Tk4HEF-q0ALP5wIgVwFFPHWrlZKTHNGIY4vNAbPP5rmlbOD-FpWpHREZiEOFMcndMzIqzrcVglLtnM/s1600/P1050925.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>And also on the subject of the Bloodhound Nationals, I am
sure that everyone was grateful that I was not there. Especially my
humans.<span> </span>Don’t get me wrong, there were
aspects to showing that I enjoyed very much, principal among them the presence
of Lady Hounds who at any moment could go into season and require the services
of a romantic fellow like myself.<span> </span>I also
enjoyed the fact that all the usual instruments of Hound Control—such as harnesses,
prong collars, Heinous Gentle Leaders and the like --were replaced by a string.
I am 130lbs. Elizabeth whose misfortune it was to take me into the ring is not
130 lbs.<span> </span>You don’t have to understand Newton’s
Laws of Physics to appreciate that this situation seldom worked out well. At
least for Elizabeth. And outside of the ring when I decided that I had an
urgent need to, say, poke someone in the butt or ingratiate myself with a Lady
Hound, the only recourse was for my humans to throw themselves upon me.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1C4cLe-AKYunBTQaksLKBb9ic6sF1U7ANbwM_uj_wj-KmY5UF94rc6_dGqgOuBG8P29DJ_mFonw2BUSpHNo9pfMVLI3M4ai2zGf5jSwTOK5dyK7uGK-A0NZ4rqlqDWLjaCZfuDRj7pA/s1600/P1050964.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1C4cLe-AKYunBTQaksLKBb9ic6sF1U7ANbwM_uj_wj-KmY5UF94rc6_dGqgOuBG8P29DJ_mFonw2BUSpHNo9pfMVLI3M4ai2zGf5jSwTOK5dyK7uGK-A0NZ4rqlqDWLjaCZfuDRj7pA/s1600/P1050964.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>And then there was all the chicken that was liberally tossed
into my gob under the misguided impression that I could not bay and eat chicken
at the same time. Au contraire mes amis.<span>
</span>I can bay and do anything at the same time, including lie on my back.
And then my boredom with the lack of all the exciting activities in which I
wanted to engage made it obligatory that I protest at great length and with
much vigor. And on the subject of this “bait” that was used on me (bait being
the word humans use for all the desirable comestibles with which they attempt
to bribe you) I was initially fed liver before it was determined that the liver
was exerting a powerful form of organ meat mind control that left no neurons
free for any activities (such as stacking or trotting around the ring) that my
humans hope to engage me in. <span> </span>In fact, so
potent a force was this liver that it would cause me to turn into a very loud,
very demanding cement lawn ornament with zero interest in anything not liver
related. Suffice to say I livened up the show ring proceedings much in the
manner of a rodeo clown.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-LvBhCg6HQzPfl8P40o4BDx8wdWOjw0sr-Gohyphenhyphenc_AOjkhPeliAndkayac7463jBTlFvPSbS0AXNfILgk2WG0YUaA7P1qQUAwK5H3TxE2DDwxlhlXM3zgeNRcXy5T_mQv7tq4g5wkZyzQ/s1600/P1050918.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-LvBhCg6HQzPfl8P40o4BDx8wdWOjw0sr-Gohyphenhyphenc_AOjkhPeliAndkayac7463jBTlFvPSbS0AXNfILgk2WG0YUaA7P1qQUAwK5H3TxE2DDwxlhlXM3zgeNRcXy5T_mQv7tq4g5wkZyzQ/s1600/P1050918.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>But then it finally occurred to even my obtuse humans that I
was much better suited to dragging them around Central Park in search of horse
poop, stray sandwiches and frisky rodents than to prancing around in a show
ring earning (or not) ribbons.<span> </span>This was
even confirmed by the animal communicator that my humans hired to help them
figure out how to make me behave.<span> </span>She
told them that I was bored in the ring and that I could think of nothing that
Elizabeth could do to entertain me except perhaps jumping up and down.<span> </span>(Although in reality this latter activity
would probably be more entertaining to the male spectators than it would be to
me).</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW2kkn4vU0qh4fqAfc4UcSy0uFOazjTbU0vXHfrFhlq0dmLQCG5QVpfuGud1n3wIHLpFQ-Qe6IHg3fQ7Z0qOY16Tx6JoYHNslGz1N39clHYvCj0x7ljUiG-hXbs-oxRY9PtoI5fB3p8M/s1600/P1050931.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioW2kkn4vU0qh4fqAfc4UcSy0uFOazjTbU0vXHfrFhlq0dmLQCG5QVpfuGud1n3wIHLpFQ-Qe6IHg3fQ7Z0qOY16Tx6JoYHNslGz1N39clHYvCj0x7ljUiG-hXbs-oxRY9PtoI5fB3p8M/s1600/P1050931.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Well as many of you know, the week before last, Maria had a
conference in Chicago which necessitated leaving me for a week with Elizabeth, which
is always a welcome development. For me. Except that this time, Elizabeth had
to leave me one night for a dinner meeting and one afternoon for a business
meeting which displeased me greatly. I hate it when those odd smelling clothes
appear (i.e., the ones that don’t smell like me) and she goes into her little
dressing room and starts messing about with makeup bags. I have attempted to
block her entry into that little room but have had limited success owing to the
tossing of treats in the opposite direction.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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hunted Little Teddy, the neighbor’s doodle, in the hallway, bayed to let the neighbors
know that the elevator was taking too long to arrive and woke Elizabeth
multiple times per night with ear flapping and exciting dreams that involved
kicking the radiator. And after I woke her up for my morning walk, I took her
down to the river and allowed her to buy me a pumpkin muffin in exchange for my
letting her drink copious quantities of coffee. In fact it is really a good
thing that the Pier One Café is in the park since I felt that the whole muffin
purchase process took far too long and engaged in non-stop commentary to that effect
the entire time.<span> </span>And here we see a
post-muffin picture of me at the end of the pier where I was cruelly prevented
from following the scent that I was tracking by the presence of this obnoxious
fence. As usual, I insisted that it be removed.</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iYn6-cu_GL2bEExo1o1eNZyA166PGqdtQKcK_D2KG6PZpwMqtlT2DTtDxvRsySxACPg5TUQzc8fHOQwS_OrBNO5683DTWBEK827Yik43VZTWpDfmkX6d5mpcRPt0WXwc1fzInVTmjTs/s1600/P1050965.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iYn6-cu_GL2bEExo1o1eNZyA166PGqdtQKcK_D2KG6PZpwMqtlT2DTtDxvRsySxACPg5TUQzc8fHOQwS_OrBNO5683DTWBEK827Yik43VZTWpDfmkX6d5mpcRPt0WXwc1fzInVTmjTs/s1600/P1050965.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As is the custom on these visits to Elizabeth, there was the
requisite application of gin and the flying texts between her and Maria.<span> </span>And although Maria was at a conference where
she was supposed to be learning about the latest developments in a software application,
in reality she turned the event into a promotional tour for my Wimsey Institute
of Houndish Art books.<span> </span>It turns out that
people were much more interested in looking at pictures of me and absorbing my
views on European painting than in discussing business software, thereby
demonstrating that humans are occasionally capable of displaying discerning and
intelligent behavior. <span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4ZX6qgqm9T_UiLbgChFSwFIbGKzM5XZhiHp4M5sV8Gss70IrAl6kCJcPTrCjYrR5bcnpNzVWRbK__C2NkbpOTnYASEQLcfLidgtmKTT-GJmQePLcb7ZDIsX_XaYzEFbc0VWe-__UuBI/s1600/P1050939.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4ZX6qgqm9T_UiLbgChFSwFIbGKzM5XZhiHp4M5sV8Gss70IrAl6kCJcPTrCjYrR5bcnpNzVWRbK__C2NkbpOTnYASEQLcfLidgtmKTT-GJmQePLcb7ZDIsX_XaYzEFbc0VWe-__UuBI/s1600/P1050939.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>During my last sojourn at Elizabeth’s she took me over to
vet’s where I hadn’t been in a donkey’s age (a couple of weeks at least) to get
some fruitless professional ear cleaning and to do a vast battery of tests for
my checkup. Everything, other than the stubborn and relentless nature of the
yeast who have taken up residence in my right ear was fine. So now there is a
large bottle of stuff with which to “flush” my ear which translates into, “put
some on a pad and give Wimsey an ear massage and hope that some gets in” and a
small bottle of other stuff whose directions read “Put 4 drops in affected ear
daily” which translates into “chase Wimsey around and then give up.” </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnY60Lsx4nqI5OMvxgkZ7IDcZu5ztQovzE0WoTRCDU3atSvWNRBkxx_091OeoWyz9Abp04YCi-d1tBcLRrci21EmDhH4_a9bIAZbN9SQcNFd2qjHatHYfxlWTiNmyrWa10FYwUs0Sr1nQ/s1600/P1050975.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnY60Lsx4nqI5OMvxgkZ7IDcZu5ztQovzE0WoTRCDU3atSvWNRBkxx_091OeoWyz9Abp04YCi-d1tBcLRrci21EmDhH4_a9bIAZbN9SQcNFd2qjHatHYfxlWTiNmyrWa10FYwUs0Sr1nQ/s1600/P1050975.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>But anyway, Maria finally did come home and then we all went
back to my place where a giant pizza with extra cheese was ordered for me to
compensate me for the hardship of staying with Elizabeth. And this week Maria
made the exciting culinary discover that the organic, grass fed beef in the
hamburgers from the new gourmet hamburger joint on Broadway does not upset my
tummy the way beef normally does! She was so excited by this development that
on her last food run she forgot to order anything for herself other than French
fries.<span> </span>Of course there are worse things
than dining on French fries whilst watching your Hound enjoy a meal of organic
grass fed beef. Or so she told herself. <span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTcXQgmfCvQ2aNy4_xZstrgvQh0OkO3PdEXOYzglagtC8JP6nvx8rGqO8aAdKyFi4epx7Fm2D036t5BCZdK_MGGuSH6KAcd3ss9smZRdiJiRGqALfotW0A1adFaJlyMGVC1XrXL6sTr0/s1600/P1050913.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTcXQgmfCvQ2aNy4_xZstrgvQh0OkO3PdEXOYzglagtC8JP6nvx8rGqO8aAdKyFi4epx7Fm2D036t5BCZdK_MGGuSH6KAcd3ss9smZRdiJiRGqALfotW0A1adFaJlyMGVC1XrXL6sTr0/s1600/P1050913.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>And then last weekend our friends Virve and Juri came over
from Finland to visit me. I always enjoying receiving visitors although I was
hoping for another moose chew like the one they brought last time. There are
only so many bully sticks one can consume. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8n6_g0UW_qWLDrHNGnrYNAbeiy774iidxvfRiELaSSJNa9vFNBn8oFUkeQyNWyu9EY3dpwck1X8e1CMPpt7PBYN3PjEyRqQ1BngGf4evBkED3VYf61lgp8FCXAGfCbViEAGJr_hNSC_E/s1600/P1050948.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8n6_g0UW_qWLDrHNGnrYNAbeiy774iidxvfRiELaSSJNa9vFNBn8oFUkeQyNWyu9EY3dpwck1X8e1CMPpt7PBYN3PjEyRqQ1BngGf4evBkED3VYf61lgp8FCXAGfCbViEAGJr_hNSC_E/s1600/P1050948.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Well I think we are more or less up to date on mostly
everything. <span> </span>On Wednesday Maria had to
walk me alone after work because Elizabeth had a meeting in midtown. It was
apparently such a successful meeting that Elizabeth came over afterwards with a
bottle of wine to tell Maria about it. But I’m afraid Maria heard very little
about it because my Houndy Sense detected that this conversation was not about
me and I created a scene about being fed the cocktail nuts. Then when I got
bored with that I started batting my tennis ball around the apartment and made
Maria retrieve it from under the furniture.<span>
</span>This caused the conversation to switch from the success of Elizabeth’s
meeting to the awfulness of me, which is my version of a successful meeting. <span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-kBWBouMMBKjvCzP_4RlzBWSp5ICzJ-tuSIUxHOhipDER5HJP3iZVh2zckzFbkO3QZXv_p0_kI96RMBJC-Lg-kFty8gLiP8dn3znamEXVAMoz1KMO1kHvnOR3nOQ6DaIA9B0JyQr40c/s1600/P1050942.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-kBWBouMMBKjvCzP_4RlzBWSp5ICzJ-tuSIUxHOhipDER5HJP3iZVh2zckzFbkO3QZXv_p0_kI96RMBJC-Lg-kFty8gLiP8dn3znamEXVAMoz1KMO1kHvnOR3nOQ6DaIA9B0JyQr40c/s1600/P1050942.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUzGRHBAi4lhyphenhyphenLcEXFcCeNZ1uaowbSL7pSEyiP04s_-JIhzmkuMpf3ji_dhFCsX7WcO1b8fcBnizxHPPCrXoYKXGMz-8tW5Hw2UDNvbcGRPhZ7kfvPiIdRgIZluNCcj_WpnpA-ScEDFI/s1600/P1050944.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOUzGRHBAi4lhyphenhyphenLcEXFcCeNZ1uaowbSL7pSEyiP04s_-JIhzmkuMpf3ji_dhFCsX7WcO1b8fcBnizxHPPCrXoYKXGMz-8tW5Hw2UDNvbcGRPhZ7kfvPiIdRgIZluNCcj_WpnpA-ScEDFI/s1600/P1050944.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>One last thing—this is a picture of an “art installation”
that for many days I found profoundly troubling.<span> </span>I would stare at it and stare at it but it
never moved. Finally I snuck up on it and smelled its tush much to the
amusement of passersby--my humans were too slow with the camera to capture the
moment when I realized that it is inanimate. Hey, you can’t fool me, I’m a
bloodhound!</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgiXWyXpbt45_plBDZWV-DVP4VN-_MM4y-6SL4VM3DSubZ2GujCACwWYhtjFSL-TwewElCIMul3Ar8SOHhmxWwOiVuOfyRBBHPAyTAyJMH7omaLAEUhYvQ9d_ViQGLJP9bW5-0cjMftw/s1600/P1050934.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilgiXWyXpbt45_plBDZWV-DVP4VN-_MM4y-6SL4VM3DSubZ2GujCACwWYhtjFSL-TwewElCIMul3Ar8SOHhmxWwOiVuOfyRBBHPAyTAyJMH7omaLAEUhYvQ9d_ViQGLJP9bW5-0cjMftw/s1600/P1050934.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span>Wimsey, organic, grass-fed Hound</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-90292804998560438932014-10-04T19:25:00.001-04:002014-10-05T11:18:17.537-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #359<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-Q2mOEF62O5eop2O_G_m8Gxi5DAiiKZo2KQFf0LAJw8HicWAO5PiCovFRGm7AWNAeAKH-uuNlG2Xt_8mCL2mw8q4KIUuVVtTjLClgtyxlzH84XEwGe9Ld8ewot-DHw987KzPU5j_eBo/s1600/P1050889.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ-Q2mOEF62O5eop2O_G_m8Gxi5DAiiKZo2KQFf0LAJw8HicWAO5PiCovFRGm7AWNAeAKH-uuNlG2Xt_8mCL2mw8q4KIUuVVtTjLClgtyxlzH84XEwGe9Ld8ewot-DHw987KzPU5j_eBo/s1600/P1050889.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2fJpGD-csg5vU3KpuZ97ZIU_Ybh8WjUupOYSMcj-JBwEyWn_sUhotn3cTywCSBLXLF0ygApk3cnVd0jlKa4eC-5QvHctDTLnQ3ScBCfb48o2TPd0AGt_tfOezAm9eX6cX6tqluAUajo/s1600/P1050870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Entry #359</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>October 4, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey, coming to you finally from
the soggy Upper West Side of Manhattan where it has been a busy two weeks for
myself and my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth. Both of them are away today getting groomed
so I am snatching a few hours (like I snatch everything else that I want) to
report on my doings. On the subject of
their grooming, I will remain silent—I was never a fan of this process myself
and in their case it is particularly pointless since no one notices them
anyway. Elizabeth did force me to bathe
this week but I pride myself on having extracted a very large amount of turkey in
return. I especially like when she covers the futon in towels afterwards to
absorb excess moisture from my body and I use the towels to make a comfy pillow
for my snout instead.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShukAvc-u-hcSBXPnqFU-F06x02-V5-R29JUGMq9r5rnEfm9ej5Q9TcwqQf4Yx4LqQ_H-UIP3uX2e7ZScfnuCx3HTaaQC6tRs924Xgnpl-tWBbDvPkHISrwrAW2GBwB_3pl-i69dlQWc/s1600/P1050893.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShukAvc-u-hcSBXPnqFU-F06x02-V5-R29JUGMq9r5rnEfm9ej5Q9TcwqQf4Yx4LqQ_H-UIP3uX2e7ZScfnuCx3HTaaQC6tRs924Xgnpl-tWBbDvPkHISrwrAW2GBwB_3pl-i69dlQWc/s1600/P1050893.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>But I digress. A couple of weeks ago as you know, I spent a
whole four days with Elizabeth whilst Maria was off visiting her mother. This
was quite delightful, at least for me. I
was only able to report on the first day or so with her but I am happy to
report that I continued my morning habit of climbing into bed with her at 7am
whereupon I either snuffle her face or loom over it and drip drool all over it
or lie down on top of her or sit next to her recumbent form and thwack her for
some scratching. Not that I necessarily need to take care of any business at
that hour, but her windows face the park and all the alluring scents and sounds
are too potent a temptation for a park loving Hound such as myself. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2fJpGD-csg5vU3KpuZ97ZIU_Ybh8WjUupOYSMcj-JBwEyWn_sUhotn3cTywCSBLXLF0ygApk3cnVd0jlKa4eC-5QvHctDTLnQ3ScBCfb48o2TPd0AGt_tfOezAm9eX6cX6tqluAUajo/s1600/P1050870.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2fJpGD-csg5vU3KpuZ97ZIU_Ybh8WjUupOYSMcj-JBwEyWn_sUhotn3cTywCSBLXLF0ygApk3cnVd0jlKa4eC-5QvHctDTLnQ3ScBCfb48o2TPd0AGt_tfOezAm9eX6cX6tqluAUajo/s1600/P1050870.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>And while she gets dressed, I make myself
comfy amidst her pillow and bedclothes leaving them marked with my indelible
scent and secretions. I only deviated from this routine on one morning where
instead of climbing into bed with her I grabbed my loudest toy (known as
“Monster”) and granted him the honor of announcing my availability for my
morning walk.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWt6HVScGTjfQKTs3cNOjl4uimpYIK2iGPXB7I7ZdJ0Zxtf6grPRsw-rsJ0JShyphenhyphenPYqe7tUzxkeD4yGUM6AOOIxon3RQZeW1jnvrhLb-PKBhp4I6_cmocmOy0a-u-H3h97z8fthGb1JQYQ/s1600/P1050881.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWt6HVScGTjfQKTs3cNOjl4uimpYIK2iGPXB7I7ZdJ0Zxtf6grPRsw-rsJ0JShyphenhyphenPYqe7tUzxkeD4yGUM6AOOIxon3RQZeW1jnvrhLb-PKBhp4I6_cmocmOy0a-u-H3h97z8fthGb1JQYQ/s1600/P1050881.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>On one morning the nice lady who runs the Pier One Café
opened early and I got to consume a muffin or croissant whilst Elizabeth
slurped coffee and tried to recover from her encounter with Monster. It was all
quite delightful, especially when Maria returned Sunday evening smelling like
her mother’s excellent cooking. Several days later two gift boxes of Hungarian cookies
arrived specifically for me, which was wonderful except when Maria tried to
poach one. I don’t understand why she wants
to eat my cookies when there is a whole bowl of kibble at her disposal instead.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFJU4Maai0pWC61ruWmDQSGjd6LZ2iwRbbtfL7SAitflSqz1N-CgEoPc1T44KhDg_rcZNr0z14f3bXunWn2ipv1auKoF4AnlUMnGvlvv1Zkd4ZjEmn7fSdOaFfW0TYfQh1b117cdRwFY/s1600/P1050883.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFJU4Maai0pWC61ruWmDQSGjd6LZ2iwRbbtfL7SAitflSqz1N-CgEoPc1T44KhDg_rcZNr0z14f3bXunWn2ipv1auKoF4AnlUMnGvlvv1Zkd4ZjEmn7fSdOaFfW0TYfQh1b117cdRwFY/s1600/P1050883.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Elizabeth also took me to the vet, where through some
medical miracle, I had not appeared for several weeks. The staff tried
(unsuccessfully) to rid my right ear of the yeast farm that had taken up
residence and I had an extensive amount of lab tests done on all my bodily
fluids. I was given a clean bill of
health and my humans were given a large bill of costs. There is talk of getting
me another ultrasound to check up to see how my prostate is enjoying life. I
always look forward to that test since it seems to mostly consist of a warm gel
belly rub and is a huge improvement over someone sticking their finger up my
bum. I am not a fan of this latter procedure which ranks right up there with the
cutting (or not) of my nails.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswABEc8qo3TsQOIFlZcxtUGZ1gKEY20_eLZwjQnYqQ4qKzZuiuVWnf4bNUlc_dxXK1Q8_1E212XK1uxujhyO9627jTZtK3tDUuR15kZedjUR499dMt2q_eiVr4qR00Qm5zxj3noOk-_I/s1600/P1050875.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswABEc8qo3TsQOIFlZcxtUGZ1gKEY20_eLZwjQnYqQ4qKzZuiuVWnf4bNUlc_dxXK1Q8_1E212XK1uxujhyO9627jTZtK3tDUuR15kZedjUR499dMt2q_eiVr4qR00Qm5zxj3noOk-_I/s1600/P1050875.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Anyway, the good news is that I will once again ensconce
myself at Elizabeth’s on Tuesday and will remain there for the entire week
while Maria is disporting herself on a business trip to Chicago. And as is the
way of these things, especially according to Mr. Murphy and his Law, Elizabeth’s
Swiss client will be arriving that Tuesday night for some important meetings on
Wednesday which means I will be left alone again. The whole leaving me alone
situation has proven so aggravating that Elizabeth is no longer permitted to
enter the little dressing room where she puts on her makeup (makeup only being
worn on those horrifying occasions that do not involve me) without encountering
the Wimsey Stink Eye. I am considering blocking off that room entirely.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_l3aCOOZW_tjKu_cPbcp6Fhl0hjGOC-gPIX7xKvx__MVBtrnLV-_of-WWJgyE-gBx4cPBNkZTIwbr3LRyCzj2jI0NmAIHbvJJJVGM5lKNF5EQ5_ydSCIANSiDCc21B73A3d-2M1pZCw/s1600/P1050892.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv_l3aCOOZW_tjKu_cPbcp6Fhl0hjGOC-gPIX7xKvx__MVBtrnLV-_of-WWJgyE-gBx4cPBNkZTIwbr3LRyCzj2jI0NmAIHbvJJJVGM5lKNF5EQ5_ydSCIANSiDCc21B73A3d-2M1pZCw/s1600/P1050892.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>It also appears that Elizabeth will be having Important
Phone Calls on the other days that I am in residence which means that I will be
having Important Squeaky Toy Talks, Important Loud Snoring and Kicking the
Radiator Naps and Important Notebook and Face Drool Flinging. Elizabeth has already told Maria that the week
will be hell, but a human’s hell is a Hound’s heaven, as anyone who has spent
time with any of us is well aware.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5ImMpsOA5_Fg8zdZoTyb3gFbvafLO8DSBa92xmDDkyjPoJI_fzciIVBKt9GKegKZqK50pHCi8lWsaVabwKFEkUu1pGRlq2g3aSMEn5UO1igsGMxNwPYDGQSWrE8fVZoyONy2Hhmxubk/s1600/P1050887.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5ImMpsOA5_Fg8zdZoTyb3gFbvafLO8DSBa92xmDDkyjPoJI_fzciIVBKt9GKegKZqK50pHCi8lWsaVabwKFEkUu1pGRlq2g3aSMEn5UO1igsGMxNwPYDGQSWrE8fVZoyONy2Hhmxubk/s1600/P1050887.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>And speaking of this issue, it has come to my attention that
there have been a variety of posts and complaints in the various Bloodhound
groups griping about our propensity to be destructive. I am sure that people
think that such behavior is limited to their Hound, but I want to assure
everyone that, au contraire, it is pretty much a breed thing. We are an old and
barely changed working breed who wishes to be out following scent with every
fiber of our being and every strand of our DNA. We are designed and programmed
to be finding juicy boar for affluent medieval tables not hanging around in
expensively landscaped yards or lounging on cushy couches (unless the latter
activity occurs after a long hunt for the juicy boar). </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUT8nbmKELDKLPlXO3fNWsQTXLeGYCOyL9avkpSHFhduP118lWlcGf3V4Cew9nRw3JCnfgSMe1OJU_loDFlvyETJybfu590UyMRgzHNdACMAYHn1_4E_5GKelShJr5ZkJU7vPurICGW-Q/s1600/P1050872.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUT8nbmKELDKLPlXO3fNWsQTXLeGYCOyL9avkpSHFhduP118lWlcGf3V4Cew9nRw3JCnfgSMe1OJU_loDFlvyETJybfu590UyMRgzHNdACMAYHn1_4E_5GKelShJr5ZkJU7vPurICGW-Q/s1600/P1050872.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Add to this, that apart from being on the trail of desirable
comestibles, we get bored easily. We are not in fact well designed for modern
human life at all (or at least those lives that include intact possessions). Now everyone says, “Oh but Wimsey is so well
behaved.” But apart from the fact that I always tell people to define their
terms (“well behaved” and “Wimsey” being
seldom used in the same sentence by my humans) I am Maria’s third
Bloodhound. In the ten or so years that
my predecessors were with her they pretty much managed to destroy everything
she owned (with the exception of some books that she cruelly locked up in heavy
glass- fronted bookshelves). The destruction included such unconventional
materials as her makeup (which she returned home one day to find her Hounds
wearing) and the contents of the kitchen shelves owing to her Hounds’ discovery
that chairs can be moved into appropriate positions to serve as ladders to the
larder. It took ten years, but she learned what to do.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCf0hVBoR8BhVs4oouOLWkBh6A0eyUNxqFNEPILK0hIN9tMX4EEX-sphlEryD0am21B8gLteMz91NLYDmdbGXq9kACFaDS3zcNYA9q0pldIIyitbd0KHMFdfkGplsFRJIgcbJenv5dqk/s1600/P1050896.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCf0hVBoR8BhVs4oouOLWkBh6A0eyUNxqFNEPILK0hIN9tMX4EEX-sphlEryD0am21B8gLteMz91NLYDmdbGXq9kACFaDS3zcNYA9q0pldIIyitbd0KHMFdfkGplsFRJIgcbJenv5dqk/s1600/P1050896.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>With me, having Elizabeth as a volunteer caregiver was also
a great help—Elizabeth being all into evolution and fulfilling the nature of
the Hound and such like and especially in determining that letting me track
whatever took my fancy at the terrifying end of a 20 foot leash for hours and
hours every day in the 858 acres of Central Park was probably a requisite for
the continued existence of intact couches. And although I have never actually
found juicy boar in Central Park, it wasn’t for want of trying. So if I have
been (mostly) at the low end of the destruction curve, there are sound reasons.
But one cannot wholly extinguish the Nature of The Hound and Maria has no
cookbook collection or feather pillows to prove it. And Elizabeth still
remembers the day I TP’d her apartment (NB: I was not a puppy at the time). But
the jury is still out as to whether it is more obnoxious to steal food or to
demand, as I do, that it be hand fed to me in pieces cut to my liking.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScLC4z1QDXb8h-SIYIlp5p-a1XtAjazzlu6PcjpwqNWHTbvuaqA5gyrir53PC1DmxU2OOkRnevpGnnFf05j-JQW5BS-nZu4-NtvBz7BsINXqsOEaF67pdwW1EXlqBktoVxsUVwYEbcxA/s1600/P1050899.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScLC4z1QDXb8h-SIYIlp5p-a1XtAjazzlu6PcjpwqNWHTbvuaqA5gyrir53PC1DmxU2OOkRnevpGnnFf05j-JQW5BS-nZu4-NtvBz7BsINXqsOEaF67pdwW1EXlqBktoVxsUVwYEbcxA/s1600/P1050899.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>And in a similar vein, as those who read my posts know, I
have instituted an ongoing Wimsey Bribe-a-thon program. Any activity in which
my humans wish me to engage, irrespective of whether I want to engage in it or
actually demanded that I engage in it in the first place, is a Bribable
Activity. Bribable Activities require that I either ascend a handy piece of
furniture or glue myself to the floor and refuse to budge unless something delectable
is waved in front of my nose. But
whereas in the past I have allowed myself to be lured off the handy piece of
furniture or off the adhesive floor, lately I have introduced the policy of the
Pre-Bribe. Pre-bribing requires that I be actually fed some of the brandished delicacy
first in order for me to weigh its worth against the inconvenience of me doing
what my humans want. I mean what happens if, upon judicious consideration, I am
more in the mood for duck heart than for turkey? I might also add, that as far
as my demand for regular outdoor snacks while walking, don’t even think about
giving me one half of a snack that is usually broken in two. I may have a pointy-head
but I am adept at the arithmetic that tells me which snacks are broken or cut
into how many pieces. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKjdrYC407_iavopx9OVq-6kzgYCcGo-YHOSXmOORDcDM7n38b8fPqIC2ZTwVqRJyjDm60fAbT4P8K2Wr_ue21jBdQI3TY2dzXCXbDaqRXn46kcS8pCpWQoSYxFqs486GsIwRbNyFrS8/s1600/P1050903.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKjdrYC407_iavopx9OVq-6kzgYCcGo-YHOSXmOORDcDM7n38b8fPqIC2ZTwVqRJyjDm60fAbT4P8K2Wr_ue21jBdQI3TY2dzXCXbDaqRXn46kcS8pCpWQoSYxFqs486GsIwRbNyFrS8/s1600/P1050903.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>This is all a very longwinded way of saying that we Bloodhounds
are “special” dogs and that we require equally “special” humans who delight in
the shock and awe of our awfulness. But we can be inspirational animals too.
For instance, when life hands my humans one if its inevitable setbacks they are
wont to ask, “What would Wimsey do?” And one thing Wimsey would not do is give
up. (Just the thought of doing such a
thing so antithetical to to my existence is shudder-inducing). If an object cannot be gained by the
inexorable wearing down and outlasting of an obstacle then a different approach
must be devised for circumventing it. It
is one of my enduring grievances, by the way, that the kings of England and
France sported such sobriquets as “The Fair” and “The Bold” and “Coeur de Lion”
but never The Hound or Coeur de Hound. If John I of England had been John the
Hound he never would have lost all of England’s French possessions. Hounds do
not lose their possessions. We cause other people to lose theirs. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, before I sign off for this week, I want to
congratulate everyone who participated in the Bloodhound Nationals. I was
hoping to include a word or two about my stellar behavior in the show ring but
I fear that pleasure will have to wait.
The rain has stopped, the sun has come out and I am waiting to see if
this produces some yard time with its attendant coat muddying possibilities. I
want to look and smell my best for my visit to Elizabeth next week.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPHKcnSWHFxSVXdTBi190_KiygoUJ2BOCOANZ676mBUDn3iD91GKjLvr0rgnUUfkIDESAfGEMNX0QiKn2xo2lakIw6gW3jnRZRr23EbNCz7yN5auMoER2PqvML9kbbKQf_KwGb1zRDXk/s1600/P1050902.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPHKcnSWHFxSVXdTBi190_KiygoUJ2BOCOANZ676mBUDn3iD91GKjLvr0rgnUUfkIDESAfGEMNX0QiKn2xo2lakIw6gW3jnRZRr23EbNCz7yN5auMoER2PqvML9kbbKQf_KwGb1zRDXk/s1600/P1050902.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Wimsey, a special amongst specials</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-44588599101788877652014-09-20T14:33:00.001-04:002014-09-20T14:33:24.303-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #358<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9AJIaSMP0cKyxfKKGo1PBv_-h3HEHTAIS5IbTgd9niOuCqNlmXD4CwK4fbOTqdcf4MU42A0dRaL-m08JSr5ALIYn0hNiiG6ve9fbAntPPvhMW5rCpI7m-R9tV6cLEH5vlxRm6ZjuetY/s1600/P1050832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9AJIaSMP0cKyxfKKGo1PBv_-h3HEHTAIS5IbTgd9niOuCqNlmXD4CwK4fbOTqdcf4MU42A0dRaL-m08JSr5ALIYn0hNiiG6ve9fbAntPPvhMW5rCpI7m-R9tV6cLEH5vlxRm6ZjuetY/s1600/P1050832.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #358</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>September 20, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77EZ9_cAFhPNgxQEKSWX_t_u9Rot0zDyWDix0Dn-Z8-PpSW8ISTytPMszZv1I6-MLB17kSc6L38l9N_OURjUa7Vyu2HrV5_bie76Zpo3w-IOny6R3cq0eCh4h5ocfwiHMkCeILIfI6Fs/s1600/P1050839.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you as usual from the
Upper West Side of Manhattan but ensconced for a long weekend in my secondary
apartment several blocks away from my normal crib. My human Maria left for a
long weekend on Thursday to visit her mother leaving me with her friend,
Elizabeth, who normally only looks after me during the day when Maria is off at
work.<span> </span>Elizabeth is off at work too but
in her case her office is conveniently located in her apartment and well within
snouting and drool range of yours truly.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>
</span>And whereas sadly I cannot interfere with Maria’s work (at least not
directly), I have free rein (or leash) to do so at Elizabeth’s. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77EZ9_cAFhPNgxQEKSWX_t_u9Rot0zDyWDix0Dn-Z8-PpSW8ISTytPMszZv1I6-MLB17kSc6L38l9N_OURjUa7Vyu2HrV5_bie76Zpo3w-IOny6R3cq0eCh4h5ocfwiHMkCeILIfI6Fs/s1600/P1050839.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi77EZ9_cAFhPNgxQEKSWX_t_u9Rot0zDyWDix0Dn-Z8-PpSW8ISTytPMszZv1I6-MLB17kSc6L38l9N_OURjUa7Vyu2HrV5_bie76Zpo3w-IOny6R3cq0eCh4h5ocfwiHMkCeILIfI6Fs/s1600/P1050839.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>This week I
took her to one of the out of the way pet stores where I had previously
purchased my brown dinosaur and she tried to buy me off with a blue dragon—the
theory being that I would amuse myself with the blue dragon and allow her to
work. Like most theories concerning my behavior this one turned out to require
some modification since the amusement consisted of me pushing the dragon at
Elizabeth and squeaking it in her face. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_cO3LXuJa1J8i_RTD5K9UhTnQkRZDE5xPS49Ee01XojsemNQVFlDKtj1fFLGo990LP-3dsEPH9SOp_cHFod5jy-06OwR1NIi0VAIyDwhdZxiwoBaKCl9FBYEAkwhXXzj48ePnw56N4k/s1600/P1050848.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3_cO3LXuJa1J8i_RTD5K9UhTnQkRZDE5xPS49Ee01XojsemNQVFlDKtj1fFLGo990LP-3dsEPH9SOp_cHFod5jy-06OwR1NIi0VAIyDwhdZxiwoBaKCl9FBYEAkwhXXzj48ePnw56N4k/s1600/P1050848.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTm7w4yDeL2F9X3dFktOGg3VYr1nKckBXD2yPgW1jnisNvJACE4s81jXVZdlPwBxN-ltpG8bIWjNcn1LT1I8LNtCYyPBw_zZup43IQHIChuPsrgkR8U156FHK6FNH6wSa1dhUCSShXtT4/s1600/P1050856.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well I always have a tremendous time when I stay with
Elizabeth because she is so easy to annoy and being annoying is one of the
principal reasons for my existence. Or so I’ve been told. <span> </span>Now one of the most important aspects of being
annoying is understanding your target annoyee. For instance, I like to annoy
Maria by being independent so she thinks that I don’t care about her and I like
to annoy Elizabeth by being so attentive that she requires regular recourse to
the gin bottle. Unfortunately Elizabeth had to leave me for a few hours on
Thursday evening to go to an event at a Champagne bar in Tribeca that she
claims was work related (in much the same way, I imagine that I might say an
event in a butcher shop is work related) and I was most put out by this.<span> </span>And whereas when Maria leaves me alone it’s a
big snooze fest (literally) Elizabeth’s leaving me alone calls for some retaliatory
action.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTm7w4yDeL2F9X3dFktOGg3VYr1nKckBXD2yPgW1jnisNvJACE4s81jXVZdlPwBxN-ltpG8bIWjNcn1LT1I8LNtCYyPBw_zZup43IQHIChuPsrgkR8U156FHK6FNH6wSa1dhUCSShXtT4/s1600/P1050856.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTm7w4yDeL2F9X3dFktOGg3VYr1nKckBXD2yPgW1jnisNvJACE4s81jXVZdlPwBxN-ltpG8bIWjNcn1LT1I8LNtCYyPBw_zZup43IQHIChuPsrgkR8U156FHK6FNH6wSa1dhUCSShXtT4/s1600/P1050856.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Generally I like to move things
around or shred some mail and such like just to let her know that she’s done
wrong. <span> </span>I also like to induce the guilt
to which she is susceptible by being near the door when she comes in and then
pointedly eating and drinking my untouched food and water. <span> </span>But after she returned this time she inspected
everything and nothing was missing or shredded so she concluded that maybe I am
maturing.<span> </span>That lasted until she went
into the bathroom and found that the bathmat had changed its location.<span> </span>Also that it had sprouted hair. Black and tan
hair. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And then of course there are my nighttime activities.<span> </span>I can confirm to anyone interested, that taking
Ambien is ineffective when a Giant Hound is having an exciting dream and
kicking the radiator or when he is sleeping next to the head of the bed and
emitting periodic clouds of pungent digestive gases.<span> </span>And then, as is my custom when staying with
Elizabeth, somewhere near 7am I get up, flap my ears loudly, stretch, have a
nice refreshing drink of water and then climb into bed with her to let her know
that I am ready for my walk. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZqU2UrCdfmKqkmFT3YscvKJAuFBVhMRs9HtDiGePW9mf5OM3etAfeB5vk5lZjQ4ut7Tnc8jsPduByiyZPLKG4cRCWAZ7EpBxvrf1AxzXbdY34ViTO4ReyMQYFjrSiIyb_ld3woORw2I/s1600/Picture+143.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCZqU2UrCdfmKqkmFT3YscvKJAuFBVhMRs9HtDiGePW9mf5OM3etAfeB5vk5lZjQ4ut7Tnc8jsPduByiyZPLKG4cRCWAZ7EpBxvrf1AxzXbdY34ViTO4ReyMQYFjrSiIyb_ld3woORw2I/s1600/Picture+143.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Both Elizabeth and I are sorry that we could not go to visit
Maria’s mother as well, however.<span> </span>We all
did this several years ago and Maria and Elizabeth were reminiscing about our visit.<span> </span>My favorite part was all the delectable
Hungarian food I was served (Maria’s mother is an excellent and prolific cook
and baker) and also having Maria’ s mother hand strip meat off of Buffalo
chicken wings for me.<span> </span>Elizabeth’s
favorite memory is of walking down the long hallway at our hotel in search of
ice and looking down and finding me quietly and, for the one and only time in
my life, heeling at her side, sans collar or other Hound control equipment.<span> </span>Then there was, the look on a fellow guest’s
face as she emerged from her room to see Elizabeth walking a Giant Hound down
the hallway by his dewlap instead of by a leash. She flew back inside. Maria’s
favorite memory was of her mother refusing to feed me dessert crepes until they
had been properly warmed up. But the hallway escapade ranks pretty high on her
list too.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaH-lD5FWknn-pc717dEZ1CR5xmJvrcnkX2dDcV_WPLmL4urPEnW23Mf71rgNhJOxK5CT2MlYnI7YMZLVAu2XCNA8HmO1mkcG6RXQCNlTfqWjlhCadop3vBtAwENdVvb0q8KOZT_Jpzo/s1600/P1050862.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaH-lD5FWknn-pc717dEZ1CR5xmJvrcnkX2dDcV_WPLmL4urPEnW23Mf71rgNhJOxK5CT2MlYnI7YMZLVAu2XCNA8HmO1mkcG6RXQCNlTfqWjlhCadop3vBtAwENdVvb0q8KOZT_Jpzo/s1600/P1050862.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIjiNFiy1SUmKULXRTtJ0WrqulOPnMlaVXDwUCS-BxStvUpqzZlr2ul3dze62y5dBm3toPHXZ7bNShkNLTFtC0PeNHJn6vLUcNInHeyikwn7NZmpkdv6fR0NFkoR81yVZ7wyE-lgnyt8/s1600/P1050869.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Also this week I experienced a “crise de nub” as the French would
say.<span> </span>In addition to noisy blue dragons,
the other way Elizabeth tries to buy peace is by the liberal dispensing of
bully sticks.<span> </span>But I like to turn bully
sticks into nubs and then throw them around and play with them and fling them
places so that Elizabeth has to crawl around on her hands and knees to retrieve
them. <span> </span>Well this week I lost my nub and
made Elizabeth hunt with me through my vast toy pile and under the furniture to
no avail (nub hunting being another time wasting activity with which I plague
Elizabeth’s life).</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIjiNFiy1SUmKULXRTtJ0WrqulOPnMlaVXDwUCS-BxStvUpqzZlr2ul3dze62y5dBm3toPHXZ7bNShkNLTFtC0PeNHJn6vLUcNInHeyikwn7NZmpkdv6fR0NFkoR81yVZ7wyE-lgnyt8/s1600/P1050869.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcIjiNFiy1SUmKULXRTtJ0WrqulOPnMlaVXDwUCS-BxStvUpqzZlr2ul3dze62y5dBm3toPHXZ7bNShkNLTFtC0PeNHJn6vLUcNInHeyikwn7NZmpkdv6fR0NFkoR81yVZ7wyE-lgnyt8/s1600/P1050869.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a> My humans concluded that I had probably eaten the nub and
forgotten about it because I am basically stupid. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>So when Elizabeth woke up on
Friday morning I left the newly found nub prominently displayed in the middle
of the rug for her admiration. <span> </span>It will
make her crazy trying to figure out where I found it. <span> </span>Elizabeth immediately texted the exciting news
to Maria that the errant nub had been found. It is a pleasure to be able to
bring meaning and excitement to my humans’ otherwise boring and desolate
lives.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwoiO2TX-ll3e7D48EAjsqnfyn4X4NwAr8DTfvGhKJ4njj5FCnT0pQDbfsTkr4TMEsYgq48G6h_7TtEAv7_tnCNFSzCodM-RxQbEp9-7ER17hyCI1vu1M1DtRe95mIeH72BGumUQbQlg/s1600/IMG_20140920_090723_edit.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well I have to apologize for being late with the post this
week—Elizabeth started looking rather peaky last night so I prescribed a
medicinal gin and tonic and had to monitor the results. Unfortunately all the
relaxation was undone this morning because at about 6am I began having a
vigorous series of dreams that required me to kick the bed repeatedly.<span> </span>Then I’d wake up, flap my ears, fall back
asleep and repeat.<span> </span>I did climb into bed
with Elizabeth as usual at 7am but by this time she was already awake so it
wasn’t as much fun as usual.<span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwoiO2TX-ll3e7D48EAjsqnfyn4X4NwAr8DTfvGhKJ4njj5FCnT0pQDbfsTkr4TMEsYgq48G6h_7TtEAv7_tnCNFSzCodM-RxQbEp9-7ER17hyCI1vu1M1DtRe95mIeH72BGumUQbQlg/s1600/IMG_20140920_090723_edit.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwoiO2TX-ll3e7D48EAjsqnfyn4X4NwAr8DTfvGhKJ4njj5FCnT0pQDbfsTkr4TMEsYgq48G6h_7TtEAv7_tnCNFSzCodM-RxQbEp9-7ER17hyCI1vu1M1DtRe95mIeH72BGumUQbQlg/s1600/IMG_20140920_090723_edit.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></span>We spent a
lovely couple of hours down by the river and stopped for a muffin and coffee
which I enjoyed very much and left a pool of drool to prove it.<span> </span>There is talk this evening of mai tai’s and <i>Forgetting Sarah Marshall </i>which
Elizabeth hopes will turn into <i>Forgetting
Wimsey Bloodhound</i> and make her think she is back in Maui instead of on her
couch with me.<span> </span>As if.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5bGM7VTCRo7XLAcDcFNr6QdDNc3HSu-xNbknzxCgLlm1OmbbE9SY_6H63GEjMz69KHZHnIClKFb68GD0bn3-rIRMRP7SAgfQ499UV7l7kRpTP5TMfabpw0-CUuAKR2aT3alRfrTwsNk/s1600/P1050845.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja5bGM7VTCRo7XLAcDcFNr6QdDNc3HSu-xNbknzxCgLlm1OmbbE9SY_6H63GEjMz69KHZHnIClKFb68GD0bn3-rIRMRP7SAgfQ499UV7l7kRpTP5TMfabpw0-CUuAKR2aT3alRfrTwsNk/s1600/P1050845.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well it’s a short post this week since Elizabeth has huge
piles of work to do which means that I have huge piles of work to do making
sure that she cannot do it.<span> </span>Oh, and lest
you think that my being annoying is limited to my actual humans, think again. Last
Saturday evening I was standing around outside my building “chatting” with some
friends when someone leaned out of their window and shouted “That’s obnoxious.”
<span> </span>I don’t know, I think the sound of me is
rather pleasing. Anyway…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, The Alarm Clock Hound</span></span></div>
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</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wCOLlidaw17gM47yn09T8RhGgbEays3WPxxWIkjv60PWft4MZYxGN9GSl8B5-i3iNb32Z5olTD9vYLjPkHd06dvBDNe32nlzGf6LQInIcCDI2L9CLXP5khwBRbVyPNcz158vdYfOBRM/s1600/P1050837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wCOLlidaw17gM47yn09T8RhGgbEays3WPxxWIkjv60PWft4MZYxGN9GSl8B5-i3iNb32Z5olTD9vYLjPkHd06dvBDNe32nlzGf6LQInIcCDI2L9CLXP5khwBRbVyPNcz158vdYfOBRM/s1600/P1050837.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFeSapk_BqESw-d2zKoq1OGvXajnSDbJeoEUnuEw-CY5xIIjdRhpbZV82JES8mwKmRUueRNDqYXiJfWi2Z4N_jFkxeuhHCPscqwpZOfvkLK3z3DqdeikxdOOrbo03LVtL94reNpeLXGk/s1600/P1050823.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtFeSapk_BqESw-d2zKoq1OGvXajnSDbJeoEUnuEw-CY5xIIjdRhpbZV82JES8mwKmRUueRNDqYXiJfWi2Z4N_jFkxeuhHCPscqwpZOfvkLK3z3DqdeikxdOOrbo03LVtL94reNpeLXGk/s1600/P1050823.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Entry #257</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>September 12, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdexads8iHIBFs1l8SW3ALAG13Os-vziu0ms3VIZpUzTDz2cxDeOKnvXYmETvsTEfYBxj7vL4EsTFAY4bD1vX4GCN7ijeHi04RULLdqby6iD7pBprVjmXdpyWucV1jO-gXFN1pQMA3lo/s1600/P1050794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.<span> </span>Just in time for a bout
of Indian summer I think.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdexads8iHIBFs1l8SW3ALAG13Os-vziu0ms3VIZpUzTDz2cxDeOKnvXYmETvsTEfYBxj7vL4EsTFAY4bD1vX4GCN7ijeHi04RULLdqby6iD7pBprVjmXdpyWucV1jO-gXFN1pQMA3lo/s1600/P1050794.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdexads8iHIBFs1l8SW3ALAG13Os-vziu0ms3VIZpUzTDz2cxDeOKnvXYmETvsTEfYBxj7vL4EsTFAY4bD1vX4GCN7ijeHi04RULLdqby6iD7pBprVjmXdpyWucV1jO-gXFN1pQMA3lo/s1600/P1050794.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>But first things first.<span>
</span>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) <i>The Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art</i> 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.<span> </span>We famous authors should always be f<span>ê</span>ted
and feasted as befits our stature as literary luminaries.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHU7tZuqbiWMg8-OfkzptSlM3YQxUcWaiddtil7Nah3t_3RDzWMynCz_3bfJBzaYzcRfZobkDblJzvlzPrDA9LZbUts4cUA4nx4Vlh6SupwvIGFlz1fxruFePmySr09vg_R5wjc4AwaPA/s1600/P1050813.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHU7tZuqbiWMg8-OfkzptSlM3YQxUcWaiddtil7Nah3t_3RDzWMynCz_3bfJBzaYzcRfZobkDblJzvlzPrDA9LZbUts4cUA4nx4Vlh6SupwvIGFlz1fxruFePmySr09vg_R5wjc4AwaPA/s1600/P1050813.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLx3Rmvm_QCB99VHpBy11PtYwm8QJA4ykpsBbl4cm9y3qmTISG5L1PD0XtprICcrpjzG_p3QaQVTq-ui3d1IH6U-fhaSDDGSypQW-aQAyzzd-IHcYSHkNE6ogTnvn0mOLocLDAEVGsv58/s1600/P1050809.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLx3Rmvm_QCB99VHpBy11PtYwm8QJA4ykpsBbl4cm9y3qmTISG5L1PD0XtprICcrpjzG_p3QaQVTq-ui3d1IH6U-fhaSDDGSypQW-aQAyzzd-IHcYSHkNE6ogTnvn0mOLocLDAEVGsv58/s1600/P1050809.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, the (supposedly) impending fall weather brought
Elizabeth’s StitchFix box which was much anticipated.<span> </span>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.<span> </span>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.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyvJMdnWgVrDQNpBWLG_HeO2qaG2QiWclVnoSDuW7GOxngLovID3Q3OHMr-JMz9bdhx7ip2sNZ8oHnqOY33DAmXZ7RVrJIVQmkCovtsqS4jKleYTo6fT2fg0hblYIo15qPdAva02hx2Y/s1600/P1050799.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyvJMdnWgVrDQNpBWLG_HeO2qaG2QiWclVnoSDuW7GOxngLovID3Q3OHMr-JMz9bdhx7ip2sNZ8oHnqOY33DAmXZ7RVrJIVQmkCovtsqS4jKleYTo6fT2fg0hblYIo15qPdAva02hx2Y/s1600/P1050799.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>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. </span></span></div>
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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.<span>
</span>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.<span>
</span>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.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpT6zjywO2NDRXC4Mx-RPrYPUSI0mAw9Onwli6VYmkcOUQDdRv2hnAU1SHPH8wgW0bjGzw8gccw3p0bLqc9ACPMWyQvv6vb6MSFOLdF4_K49mdZ7tUHRkQ9R21G2JbMkmdRhFC3_3NjjA/s1600/P1050804.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpT6zjywO2NDRXC4Mx-RPrYPUSI0mAw9Onwli6VYmkcOUQDdRv2hnAU1SHPH8wgW0bjGzw8gccw3p0bLqc9ACPMWyQvv6vb6MSFOLdF4_K49mdZ7tUHRkQ9R21G2JbMkmdRhFC3_3NjjA/s1600/P1050804.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.<span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRuTTGOEa8fDrT7kBKksF78R0DJE1BFIK9pK3-kqdy1axNY1sES1yG6gUA3d2gKw0iMtCdxVSmn8Md093dUo4gFok9_RxjxLhUozfO8THul4govbQicWE1RFCydQJWNr9kx41HJprcyc/s1600/P1050827.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRuTTGOEa8fDrT7kBKksF78R0DJE1BFIK9pK3-kqdy1axNY1sES1yG6gUA3d2gKw0iMtCdxVSmn8Md093dUo4gFok9_RxjxLhUozfO8THul4govbQicWE1RFCydQJWNr9kx41HJprcyc/s1600/P1050827.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>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.<span> </span>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.<span> </span>So for anyone who has not yet realized it,
here are a few more items to add to that list:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hounds prefer someone who feeds them to someone who pets
them.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hounds prefer someone who feeds them the lunch they are
eating over someone who feeds them that rubbish in the kibble bag.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzUlglxhYeSLdn7-YBlhmlvry7jaiewgkdyJGERFYNbGJMziuUGue6N8WgbLmJJa-x1FqI4xKX59I-5Obp3BwdLNIrbOwaGojSg_7bGdQ9_1hwLxomh0DfHY570CEZ6t3nZ-ZkSmnZmk/s1600/P1050796.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzUlglxhYeSLdn7-YBlhmlvry7jaiewgkdyJGERFYNbGJMziuUGue6N8WgbLmJJa-x1FqI4xKX59I-5Obp3BwdLNIrbOwaGojSg_7bGdQ9_1hwLxomh0DfHY570CEZ6t3nZ-ZkSmnZmk/s1600/P1050796.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hounds prefer someone whose refrigerator door is easy to
open to someone whose refrigerator door is padlocked.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hounds prefer someone who they are able to shove off the
couch to someone who gets up voluntarily.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hounds prefer people who think they are wonderful creatures
to people who know that they are entitled and manipulative brats.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvURs1j5cyr_nifsM7IC8Hl0BDbjlfj1Y0ctUuNJy8SrFzy73y41kc6gNexhYmu_bIS4wH4MQeNMJoTOdDXPWv9UkvnU032_kcdCgxZsYw8zecZwUGbmmF1cj_12VI5kzOeUE0TDbIG8/s1600/P1050805.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvURs1j5cyr_nifsM7IC8Hl0BDbjlfj1Y0ctUuNJy8SrFzy73y41kc6gNexhYmu_bIS4wH4MQeNMJoTOdDXPWv9UkvnU032_kcdCgxZsYw8zecZwUGbmmF1cj_12VI5kzOeUE0TDbIG8/s1600/P1050805.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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”?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<br /></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, I am off to rest up for my stint of being the
perfect houseguest (not).</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, The Pestatarian </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
<br />
Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-91832404804585630172014-09-05T21:09:00.003-04:002014-09-05T21:09:39.938-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #356<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGs7UzND3QF3sxvUL7Lbv75NAS1ADrB9u1Rc5hlt9vmQc7Q7fcJTiGqQSlMi0bUM8fTc1ZrUhzCs0eWKYVJVhpA17ID5AEOVx4ncaXQaSakpXYWaiT2g9TMUrgCnL78jbswegJ2NoeirU/s1600/P1050758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGs7UzND3QF3sxvUL7Lbv75NAS1ADrB9u1Rc5hlt9vmQc7Q7fcJTiGqQSlMi0bUM8fTc1ZrUhzCs0eWKYVJVhpA17ID5AEOVx4ncaXQaSakpXYWaiT2g9TMUrgCnL78jbswegJ2NoeirU/s1600/P1050758.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Entry #356</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>September 5, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">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?<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">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.<span> </span>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. <span> </span>Perhaps I
need to create an app for that.<span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQ8mpt0MEES16ynLSXFQJRM0-dEPKx2ImWBB5ZzGfUgmPreIFz8xyHEN-897u7Nj4Mvo26krd-4fTyaLyuVe6xXkBauqfcnd0e-RqlKjnt6TvbJZYdYY5qpnwPhmIoXQDOuccRjHL5lI/s1600/P1050759.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaQ8mpt0MEES16ynLSXFQJRM0-dEPKx2ImWBB5ZzGfUgmPreIFz8xyHEN-897u7Nj4Mvo26krd-4fTyaLyuVe6xXkBauqfcnd0e-RqlKjnt6TvbJZYdYY5qpnwPhmIoXQDOuccRjHL5lI/s1600/P1050759.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Anyway, I will be announcing publication when (and if) it
actually occurs.<span> </span>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. <span> </span>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.<span> </span>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.<span>
</span>It is no wonder they both have to work so hard. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxaF3gvdKdlffQEpIhe7PHgdQimg9X87GbrZtuFHwj5c-gYC7qu4ohLlwnlFnFBvatWgDCUz7P3q9oAWNie7aDT-RZJX1guhTn5wFV0IcOV0e_-PV9XGSuGowEIFUu5e9KHwKtAeGH47M/s1600/P1050770.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxaF3gvdKdlffQEpIhe7PHgdQimg9X87GbrZtuFHwj5c-gYC7qu4ohLlwnlFnFBvatWgDCUz7P3q9oAWNie7aDT-RZJX1guhTn5wFV0IcOV0e_-PV9XGSuGowEIFUu5e9KHwKtAeGH47M/s1600/P1050770.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>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.<span> </span>Serve on the rocks in a wine glass whilst being
mercilessly pestered by a Giant Hound).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">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. <span> </span>But
lest you crave more detail, here is a sample:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNvFyE9QuCDdtkQMne0OAg9YUjpSd3N-5YUWEAoxN_3stD-16n-7SsHEbRtHnf737h8vt7cgmMGI2XSXSNzjpa6uX1YUsf7y-mQHo8vUYH33oTpU0StvasyG-tsGNSyG0FNakmQsJbXo/s1600/P1050763.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNvFyE9QuCDdtkQMne0OAg9YUjpSd3N-5YUWEAoxN_3stD-16n-7SsHEbRtHnf737h8vt7cgmMGI2XSXSNzjpa6uX1YUsf7y-mQHo8vUYH33oTpU0StvasyG-tsGNSyG0FNakmQsJbXo/s1600/P1050763.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Summer Fun With
Wimsey</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">1. Elizabeth enters my apartment at midday.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">2. I acknowledge her presence by rolling over so she can pay
tribute to my tummy.</span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">3.<span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">4.<span> </span>She bribes me out
of the bedroom with turkey.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5.<span> </span>I have a long
drink of water.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">6. Elizabeth refills my water bowl.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">7. I ascend the couch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">8.<span> </span>Elizabeth deals
with my eyes, the yeast farm in my ears, my choppers and the auxiliary yeast
farm between my flews.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">9. She puts everything away while I have a drink of water
and return to the couch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">10. Elizabeth refills my water bowl.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">11. Elizabeth reappears with my collar and harness.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">12. I decline to leave the air-conditioned splendor of my
couch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">13. Elizabeth bribes me off the couch with turkey.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">14. I have another drink of water.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">15. Elizabeth refills my bowl.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">16. I ascend the couch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">17. Elizabeth bribes me off the couch with turkey.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">18. We leave my apartment.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">19. While she is locking the door I attempt to drag her down
the hallway.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">20. I bay to alert the building to the news that I am going
out for a walk.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_a3LuJYxuQcFHaa-wt3q-6wcpO22mGONrKCCmzX9srFtFFCDCPq_5sRdhfs5tLehQkGR232CPMCiXUOw8LoxNiZDAzYxBDqQclOjf_8UnYem-ktIRzyJtkXA3YDiVjXmU1Qsz-ie5yM/s1600/P1050781.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_a3LuJYxuQcFHaa-wt3q-6wcpO22mGONrKCCmzX9srFtFFCDCPq_5sRdhfs5tLehQkGR232CPMCiXUOw8LoxNiZDAzYxBDqQclOjf_8UnYem-ktIRzyJtkXA3YDiVjXmU1Qsz-ie5yM/s1600/P1050781.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>21.<span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">22.<span> </span>If it is hot and
sunny I refuse to walk. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">23.<span> </span>Elizabeth bribes
me with turkey to walk.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">24. We go back to her building. The elevator guy scratches
me. Elizabeth holds my flews to prevent me shaking slime all over him.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">25.<span> </span>Elevator opens.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">26. I charge down the hallway hunting for Little Teddy, the
neighbor’s mini-doodle.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">27. Although I can smell him, I fail to find him. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">28. I enter Elizabeth’s apartment.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">29. I inventory my toy pile to make sure no canine competitor
has disturbed it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">30. I have a drink of water.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">31. Elizabeth refills my water bowl.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">32. I notice that my food bowl only contains kibble. I want
a proper lunch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">33. I stare at Elizabeth until she augments my food bowl
with chicken breast, pumpkin and yam. Sometimes boiled egg also.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">34. I eat, slowly and carefully, making sure to strew the maximum
amount of Vile Kibble all over the kitchen floor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">35. I choose an inconvenient spot and settle in for my
afternoon nap.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">36. Lest Elizabeth feel lonely produce copious quantities of
gas so she knows that I am there even if she can’t see me.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">37. I complete an extensive two-hour nap. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">38. I have drink of water. I shake my head then wipe my snout
on the couch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">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.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">40. I demand that Elizabeth stop scratching me and play with
me.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">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.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">42. Is it time to go out yet? Is it time to go out yet? It
is time to go out yet?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">43.Elizabeth has pre-walk snack. I demand to share the
pre-walk snack. <span> </span>I wait until Elizabeth
gets my equipment ready and then I ascend the futon.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">44. Elizabeth bribes me off the futon with duck heart.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">45. Duck heart must be cut into 4 pieces otherwise I will
not move until 4 pieces of them appear.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">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.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">47. I charge out of apartment. I bay. <span> </span>I can smell Little Teddy. He’s got to be
around here somewhere. No luck. Sniff the elevator guy’s butt instead.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">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.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">49. Elizabeth says she hates me. That’s completely untrue.
Probably.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And that’s how my summer days go. <span> </span>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. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6if8S2lahWeb-iptD1QjpGDRHhS8C4NOwcjXiYLcp9Rp23QYTn2wqpCVLBJg5t-o2WSKbOFB50EopWT5nNWXaZxK7LGNIx1qE7mhjQ8obo4utYTe_9e2DpsLSP6ULZW528nU5HGdPxjM/s1600/P1050786.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6if8S2lahWeb-iptD1QjpGDRHhS8C4NOwcjXiYLcp9Rp23QYTn2wqpCVLBJg5t-o2WSKbOFB50EopWT5nNWXaZxK7LGNIx1qE7mhjQ8obo4utYTe_9e2DpsLSP6ULZW528nU5HGdPxjM/s1600/P1050786.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Anyway, before I leave you for this week I wanted to say how
sorry I was to hear about Joan Rivers.<span>
</span>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.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">AnyAroo, stay tuned and I will let my adoring public know
when they can own their very own piece of Wimsey.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUwt9B8dPu_a2yF9kS41h_LJuBBVDF3vw4F8guoEMGm9HveoLhrOtb0sd4Z8libzUuxxUuLE7NWEtTRzW_5phbaT5blN6VslflgfhWCdPtdO6hxf8gpaKybCcofqSptNXRYv_hKeI-cw/s1600/P1050782.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUwt9B8dPu_a2yF9kS41h_LJuBBVDF3vw4F8guoEMGm9HveoLhrOtb0sd4Z8libzUuxxUuLE7NWEtTRzW_5phbaT5blN6VslflgfhWCdPtdO6hxf8gpaKybCcofqSptNXRYv_hKeI-cw/s1600/P1050782.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Wimsey, out of sight but never out of stink</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-54466647147612024522014-08-22T20:35:00.000-04:002014-08-22T20:35:03.658-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #355<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuhRlkScGq6OBuEDpeN5NVgUxAX-Ut3T-ssiRyoWz9Tv7c2kD9tJcvMD-JAGatzj33vwi30-c4ltYrGX3KW0_UqnNWB41OS2Uw0KdBaFgywkh8aS3SPWYT9OMkIIaqMDaUwJdcSOsGus/s1600/P1050753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuhRlkScGq6OBuEDpeN5NVgUxAX-Ut3T-ssiRyoWz9Tv7c2kD9tJcvMD-JAGatzj33vwi30-c4ltYrGX3KW0_UqnNWB41OS2Uw0KdBaFgywkh8aS3SPWYT9OMkIIaqMDaUwJdcSOsGus/s1600/P1050753.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #355<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>August 22, 2014<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey, coming to you once again
from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where I have been carrying on in my usual
fashion celebrating the dog days of August.
My human Maria and her friend Elizabeth have been insanely busy with
work which means that I had to redouble my efforts to distract them from the
unpleasant realities associated with making a living. I am a true Lily of the
Field, I neither toil nor spin but </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsxU6NkFsoE-gQiDFByusKPOlZwMByvbkmxOHIgmPfQIYj_rUViPQvBq0YYArSP6p4yHs9KnoQHMhcz4R_NC3i1DMi8q53WWxCvkRNNWjutKPZ2w5TiD_Nv2TR1AvtXXwgZTiukXIb4g/s1600/P1050744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmsxU6NkFsoE-gQiDFByusKPOlZwMByvbkmxOHIgmPfQIYj_rUViPQvBq0YYArSP6p4yHs9KnoQHMhcz4R_NC3i1DMi8q53WWxCvkRNNWjutKPZ2w5TiD_Nv2TR1AvtXXwgZTiukXIb4g/s1600/P1050744.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">merely hang around reaping the benefits of
those that do. And I am quite a successful Lily of the Field if I do say so
myself. The latest use to which I have
put my human’s paycheck is an expensive canister of probiotic powder that is
supposed to rein in the fragrant flatulence with which I am so amply endowed. We are on Day 3 of the first week at half
dose and I am happy to report that both with respect to the quantity and the
quality of the stench my intestines seem to be going in the opposite direction.
This is hardly surprising as the rest of me always goes in the opposite
direction so why should my digestive tract be any different. Even my humans are
in awe. I think the plan is to keep me
on the stuff for as long as they can stand it, which at this rate will not be
very long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UOAA3FhT7ICsukSGWJAZFD_Nls18oxLVnauM_BhAgke2RwQhVkDf3r_vYNqIK-BUCapK84m2SBR_M6BBw6w8S1ABV5mufnMNZpePLqspip95xHbby1w4-Cd_8bYLZ7AzxQzDlHsX9AQ/s1600/P1050739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5UOAA3FhT7ICsukSGWJAZFD_Nls18oxLVnauM_BhAgke2RwQhVkDf3r_vYNqIK-BUCapK84m2SBR_M6BBw6w8S1ABV5mufnMNZpePLqspip95xHbby1w4-Cd_8bYLZ7AzxQzDlHsX9AQ/s1600/P1050739.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And of course work continues apace on my art books, all of
which are now complete but my humans must figure out how to format it so it
will look the way that they want it to on iPads, Kindles and mobile phones. Maria took last Friday off so we could all go
over to Elizabeth’s to work on this but my humans concluded that Elizabeth’s
Mac is very unhappy with Amazon’s Preview software and with MS Word. This necessitated a return to Maria’s PC
laptop, which meant many happy hours (for me) spent in the yard watching them
struggle. Kindle Direct Publishing likes text and Kindle Comic Creator likes
pictures but neither one likes both text and pictures. These sessions generally end in drinks for
them and hand fed cocktail nuts for me.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinUyNxWkn28RR73qAjd5r2jQoFsJSH13gYjC3JNXpR3ZAjTnTwKrdplUjMqHYho6E0CNk6oNhezP-lw2vH1kz3S5BOUOtZS4xUkX3FNXhoHdpyyVgWUldlWNqIeAX17Ksv3MWNu-aY81w/s1600/20140711_193722_resized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinUyNxWkn28RR73qAjd5r2jQoFsJSH13gYjC3JNXpR3ZAjTnTwKrdplUjMqHYho6E0CNk6oNhezP-lw2vH1kz3S5BOUOtZS4xUkX3FNXhoHdpyyVgWUldlWNqIeAX17Ksv3MWNu-aY81w/s1600/20140711_193722_resized.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Therefore, I take no responsibility for my tragic absence
from the blogosphere—as with most things, it is my humans’ fault. I had hoped to be able to announce the
availability of the books today but sadly Elizabeth had another Unfortunate
Encounter with Comic Creator, so no Wimsey art books today but only a
consolation blog post instead. It will
be Maria’s turn to tame the technology beasts this evening. She plans on stopping at the liquor store
first. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb25ynmIjcmUqUfLJOIVGzAK7P1BjqPOR2AD0OqaBp_kvvARSV3MTnhECcLr3aF_-G_RTPr8LfvubT8SvXcwL29wW6hc8rkizg8a3JP4v1L7M8qeVLgXzRasrhTIzhrlhR6BDxAfGVzds/s1600/P1050745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb25ynmIjcmUqUfLJOIVGzAK7P1BjqPOR2AD0OqaBp_kvvARSV3MTnhECcLr3aF_-G_RTPr8LfvubT8SvXcwL29wW6hc8rkizg8a3JP4v1L7M8qeVLgXzRasrhTIzhrlhR6BDxAfGVzds/s1600/P1050745.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> But what would make the ladies
think that anything connected with me, even on a computer would be easy. And
lest everyone jump to the obvious conclusions, let us just say that my humans
are a lot better at computers than they are at driving cars, pumping gas or
dressing themselves. A very low bar, I agree, but at her company Maria is the
go-to person for computer and software help when the IT guy isn’t available and
Elizabeth’s idea of a fun shopping trip is an afternoon spent at Best Buy.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzkZXM5yXEZyq1NmoqJJsNMgzlkyjs9vYXg6eei7fhsXfyHqyoPcbY8HbKEL8kZDy6DH5pzacCyxnHeYig0MsdZ-ME5oU072l108pIxYiqfiH8riCjPzoOGGVbL64ZyOzajJxCggyoFas/s1600/P1050737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzkZXM5yXEZyq1NmoqJJsNMgzlkyjs9vYXg6eei7fhsXfyHqyoPcbY8HbKEL8kZDy6DH5pzacCyxnHeYig0MsdZ-ME5oU072l108pIxYiqfiH8riCjPzoOGGVbL64ZyOzajJxCggyoFas/s1600/P1050737.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But with respect to the whole dressing issue, help may be on
the way. Elizabeth read about an online company called StichFix that sends you
clothes that they pick out for you based on a questionnaire and your written
instructions. Apparently she has gotten tired of her extensive wardrobe of
Hounding tee shirts and jeans and requested that they send her new Hounding
clothes. She was pretty explicit about
what happens to clothing when I am around and mentioned several times that the
clothing needs to be inexpensive and washable and that it is going to be worn
with sneakers. She is also open to replacing The Fanny Pack that Ate Cleveland
with something more ladylike—provided it’s not something that will fall into my
poop when she bends over. We are all eagerly awaiting the shipment which is due
to arrive on the 11<sup>th</sup>. Especially me. I am bored with sliming, perfuming and porcupining
the same old clothes. I want new ones to wreck!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDYDRwrDwAcqDVH4AidAPDLQ2eJDvAX9h9Podjd5fNOEjpMxeDi6lQSEZHPfCZZGlHntfVR8uyuHwKmHiuPImzhTP6BJKvEkThVJAdvCgHsTgzeoSyuwHwX2xUeQ0yVyQl47bmrj0Byc/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-42.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDYDRwrDwAcqDVH4AidAPDLQ2eJDvAX9h9Podjd5fNOEjpMxeDi6lQSEZHPfCZZGlHntfVR8uyuHwKmHiuPImzhTP6BJKvEkThVJAdvCgHsTgzeoSyuwHwX2xUeQ0yVyQl47bmrj0Byc/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-42.jpeg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, Elizabeth’s Mac may be unhappy with Amazon’s book publishing
software but fortunately it is very happy with me. This is probably due to my regular visits
over the past several weeks to the Apple Store to get a drink from the
Wimsey-sized water bowl that they have at the door and to cool off in their
powerful AC. Last week, in fact I was so pleased with the amenities that I gave
an impromptu concert that, unlike many of my other concerts, was enormously
appreciated by those present. I had
quite a circle of admirers and the consensus was that I was in such fine form
because of the excellence of the amplifying acoustics. The only thing better
than listening to me bay is listening to me bay loudly. And the only thing
better than listening to me bay loudly is having ear plugs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5YTtyoJWaNrw_6vUQSYmLRSNXQXgsZbtlGbWu__0cn1GMB4MfX8JfFTbqwNnNaR-ac7DWEQTaB_yAzUwenR2dj7UoChWhdMWOsCtw1pkNn3vhcef05pPHa_4-srDMtDLUNMiejKkSss/s1600/P1050791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5YTtyoJWaNrw_6vUQSYmLRSNXQXgsZbtlGbWu__0cn1GMB4MfX8JfFTbqwNnNaR-ac7DWEQTaB_yAzUwenR2dj7UoChWhdMWOsCtw1pkNn3vhcef05pPHa_4-srDMtDLUNMiejKkSss/s1600/P1050791.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This brings me to one of my primary grievances, which is
that there is never any photographic record of my finest moments. My concertizing in computer stores, my incessant
shopping in pet shops and my being scratched and belly rubbed by entire crowds
of people are wholly unrecorded. Apparently when I engage in anything really
fun, Elizabeth, who is supposed to spend the day walking and photographing me,
feels the need to keep both hands on the leash. Such a lack of trust does her
no credit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUxEBNKXa4_uYvC7pq85BSd6IeL5WzsxGrQIuOXRwLGbLm5uS4nv3eDEpTw9Qh8F-nhmSzSTC23JxITN_3xtgwKgTS1dTPuSmHkDxEzPr-97O-vYSa-v73SW5q0MH1yVmhSAe2vOSVhNU/s1600/P1050757.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUxEBNKXa4_uYvC7pq85BSd6IeL5WzsxGrQIuOXRwLGbLm5uS4nv3eDEpTw9Qh8F-nhmSzSTC23JxITN_3xtgwKgTS1dTPuSmHkDxEzPr-97O-vYSa-v73SW5q0MH1yVmhSAe2vOSVhNU/s1600/P1050757.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I know that you all must have missed me terribly and want
to know what I have been up to. Well the short answer is “same old, same old,”
the longer answer involves a lot of texting between my humans on the subject of
me being a “gift” and the mixing of cocktails.
When I am absent I know that my adoring public (well Maria’s mother,
anyway) worry that either I am unwell or that I am in a snit because one of my
humans is indisposed. But we have all
been fine (or in the case of my humans, as fine as you can be when I am around)--
we are just having a busy summer. The fall promises to be just as active— my
books should be out and Maria will be out of town for a few days in both
September and October which means that I will be staying with Elizabeth and she
will be at my beck and call 24/7. And when she is not attending to my every
whim, she will no doubt be texting Maria. And drinking gin. And hoping that she
has to go to Europe again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, hope you all enjoy the last week of summer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTbaM9l_osV5pkpLLlXJaag3YZskZFihxTODDvRErprTndGCUZLR3PNWJHpfTc9DnRp1tAzbZAK6-J_Pj67TyCh6yRzc-H8GAg_-I4OdkCHlUcNf-9SM6LddN4OJcoTl1Bl2UnDAo1Vo/s1600/P1050772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTbaM9l_osV5pkpLLlXJaag3YZskZFihxTODDvRErprTndGCUZLR3PNWJHpfTc9DnRp1tAzbZAK6-J_Pj67TyCh6yRzc-H8GAg_-I4OdkCHlUcNf-9SM6LddN4OJcoTl1Bl2UnDAo1Vo/s1600/P1050772.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, a Hound of the field who neither toils nor spins but
is really annoying anyway<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-30672373095185145792014-08-01T21:05:00.002-04:002014-08-01T21:05:43.904-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #354<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry <span> </span>#354</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>August 1, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.”<span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITIRDxEpwlPYdWF_QQt-wyFBoUDNmS_qOlluaNmID-u0C7MiuhGkaZbjjoQnnQUI0t-8ib6d2O1F-sKvlBl9R_4a-A_6kwZi3aA9oWoz4e7d0O5LCO7zBed9K2WI-MwzINe8T06sgR2M/s1600/P1050731.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjITIRDxEpwlPYdWF_QQt-wyFBoUDNmS_qOlluaNmID-u0C7MiuhGkaZbjjoQnnQUI0t-8ib6d2O1F-sKvlBl9R_4a-A_6kwZi3aA9oWoz4e7d0O5LCO7zBed9K2WI-MwzINe8T06sgR2M/s1600/P1050731.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxxxo3Ee401ITNNfnF__lhkhBwTSjHZNYCS3dLA5UfTdQGgvXcr1peroVyGgJUErgXJLaoQx8a8DACaans5DSiO35EWPhDjG_lmJ5WQ2HFGMRBK3Vk5xbBQQI9MrY4jEKwCQ5kNOPmAw/s1600/P1050750.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUQ5SEuQZ4b7Y6aQn9f6Gkg5CY3JJRio-qEa1N-AjdmGKtgrtT1b82Pgj9yQAkPYrXW7jNgwuNxB2MXVeMhNTl2OyE1RJUyZFh5_AcI82yWJUamA7p-1lQiavTSimEW48b_nD9DBN8kE/s1600/P1050719.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUQ5SEuQZ4b7Y6aQn9f6Gkg5CY3JJRio-qEa1N-AjdmGKtgrtT1b82Pgj9yQAkPYrXW7jNgwuNxB2MXVeMhNTl2OyE1RJUyZFh5_AcI82yWJUamA7p-1lQiavTSimEW48b_nD9DBN8kE/s1600/P1050719.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>But summer (and the ever-present threat of the dreaded
cooling coat) is not wholly without its benefits.<span> </span>My humans and I do hang out in the backyard more
often and we have already had two episodes of Adventures in Barbecuing.<span> </span>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 </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxxxo3Ee401ITNNfnF__lhkhBwTSjHZNYCS3dLA5UfTdQGgvXcr1peroVyGgJUErgXJLaoQx8a8DACaans5DSiO35EWPhDjG_lmJ5WQ2HFGMRBK3Vk5xbBQQI9MrY4jEKwCQ5kNOPmAw/s1600/P1050750.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxxxo3Ee401ITNNfnF__lhkhBwTSjHZNYCS3dLA5UfTdQGgvXcr1peroVyGgJUErgXJLaoQx8a8DACaans5DSiO35EWPhDjG_lmJ5WQ2HFGMRBK3Vk5xbBQQI9MrY4jEKwCQ5kNOPmAw/s1600/P1050750.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Elizabeth was suitably horrified—it was
all<span> </span>“But that’s Wimsey’s salmon! “ </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>Episode Two was more successful, although not
from my point of view since the food turned out better.<span> </span>Maria made pizza dough and we had grilled pizzas.<span> </span>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.<span>
</span>I have no idea what is being planned for our next <i>al fresco</i> meal but I am pretty sure that it’s going to involve a
menu and a phone.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgmvV8Qd46Od4343hauoPOccSsS_0WFoYlBNa7gf7Zn6LGmDgJ1-HmPOiOgfqD-k3a6jobVlzK4Dvv6vyAtyP7lZF2eGcHpIyebB6LD_hWWaEn45fsdrZjhbZplNKndZHe34FoZcONYM/s1600/P1050733.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAgmvV8Qd46Od4343hauoPOccSsS_0WFoYlBNa7gf7Zn6LGmDgJ1-HmPOiOgfqD-k3a6jobVlzK4Dvv6vyAtyP7lZF2eGcHpIyebB6LD_hWWaEn45fsdrZjhbZplNKndZHe34FoZcONYM/s1600/P1050733.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>This created something of a traffic jam for
the wait staff in whose way I was. <span> </span>The
impasse ended when Elizabeth forcibly dragged me out of the place while trying
to distract me with a fistful of turkey. As if. <span> </span>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.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvkk25Zj_vIdpqQj8YMfsvLc0Z0RY4ySXMbqHGHc11ETd3KVlRBQP-lI-G0iM_YjkVM1DHpr2irtyyyXXTnvAdCdkaZUGL3YAJVCM5uanr3nrmdY1sLm2HDb5UWPYBgbNizXptK771C_g/s1600/P1050755.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvkk25Zj_vIdpqQj8YMfsvLc0Z0RY4ySXMbqHGHc11ETd3KVlRBQP-lI-G0iM_YjkVM1DHpr2irtyyyXXTnvAdCdkaZUGL3YAJVCM5uanr3nrmdY1sLm2HDb5UWPYBgbNizXptK771C_g/s1600/P1050755.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4olmF_kTSbFrvnLuEPBV9WgbVjlUOTKDFJBZDDPe6W-80ECJPbRAfUcYpsy8aAgGRgbT09WTyXuxXbssD3bCtKX_DjqbKGdnWDbUg_H6fiKq2B4a26zkdMu2Gj6kubXo9HJUHZGX35A/s1600/P1050725.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4olmF_kTSbFrvnLuEPBV9WgbVjlUOTKDFJBZDDPe6W-80ECJPbRAfUcYpsy8aAgGRgbT09WTyXuxXbssD3bCtKX_DjqbKGdnWDbUg_H6fiKq2B4a26zkdMu2Gj6kubXo9HJUHZGX35A/s1600/P1050725.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Hound Triathlon</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Event One: Gardening</b>-
Hounds will uproot and destroy a garden containing ten, expensive ornamental
shrubs and dig a minimum of ten holes.<span>
</span>Points awarded for speed and degree of destruction.<span> </span>Bonus points awarded for digging extra holes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Event Two: Laundry--</b>
Hounds will locate, invade and shred a large laundry basket filled with used
ladies undies.<span> </span>Bonus points awarded for
also destroying the basket.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Event Three: Towing—</b>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.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW1sOj-ljS8XlaB3k3luQ3i8OZQNRZHw19CCKUNtNYNZeT40rC9r9J4XBbelsL6Y7N49Xf6tJktFs2In0bqD_9ht5_Ygf3jN5m__aXmwM4Y1wQEQ-UK3RuHcekIzAKWH1wr3UEkCpWzk/s1600/P1050728.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>But really, there are hundreds of potentially enjoyable events
that could be used to construct a Hound triathlon.<span> </span>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 </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW1sOj-ljS8XlaB3k3luQ3i8OZQNRZHw19CCKUNtNYNZeT40rC9r9J4XBbelsL6Y7N49Xf6tJktFs2In0bqD_9ht5_Ygf3jN5m__aXmwM4Y1wQEQ-UK3RuHcekIzAKWH1wr3UEkCpWzk/s1600/P1050728.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW1sOj-ljS8XlaB3k3luQ3i8OZQNRZHw19CCKUNtNYNZeT40rC9r9J4XBbelsL6Y7N49Xf6tJktFs2In0bqD_9ht5_Ygf3jN5m__aXmwM4Y1wQEQ-UK3RuHcekIzAKWH1wr3UEkCpWzk/s1600/P1050728.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>out again. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>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. <span> </span>For inexplicable reasons, my humans were
perturbed. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCZjHKW1T8LomSaRD3eRcHKdUtPNQ-bBiCrlqG1fD-C2drE3Bhs_dPIGw6D7Gds1eB1mkos31_rAkOr06vZkyF2eOSlHlOhy9whKbWYLPW_xBSUy4J1rUKmgcaIr353KVCq6Qbn-iwVY/s1600/P1050730.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjCZjHKW1T8LomSaRD3eRcHKdUtPNQ-bBiCrlqG1fD-C2drE3Bhs_dPIGw6D7Gds1eB1mkos31_rAkOr06vZkyF2eOSlHlOhy9whKbWYLPW_xBSUy4J1rUKmgcaIr353KVCq6Qbn-iwVY/s1600/P1050730.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, enough about me (not).<span> </span>I thought that since it was summer we should
look in on my friends Dick and Jane.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Summer Fun With Dick
and Jane</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick. Dick is in the Hamptons. Dick’s father runs a
hedge fund. He is also called Dick.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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. <span> </span>They eat gluten. Dick is underprivileged.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Jane. Jane is happy. She is going to visit Dick. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyg3HId06I5jlYy5cjNIRzmIo30ATV91ROCYkhJ4cUQlBTAZubr9QK1BpcQgkP_1GP1X-UJ02t943QlGsbFw76MSwG5PjwI5xeO9FwlEOUHfIexPU6pnrA-x0dWX_m8WEnxjWXpUsl6l8/s1600/P1050734.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyg3HId06I5jlYy5cjNIRzmIo30ATV91ROCYkhJ4cUQlBTAZubr9QK1BpcQgkP_1GP1X-UJ02t943QlGsbFw76MSwG5PjwI5xeO9FwlEOUHfIexPU6pnrA-x0dWX_m8WEnxjWXpUsl6l8/s1600/P1050734.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>“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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Dick’s Hound. See Dick’s Hound’s nose.<span> </span>See the frosting on Dick’s Hound’s nose.
Dick’s Hound eats gluten. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“I can’t find the cupcakes,” said Dick. “Never mind” said
Jane. ‘Cupcakes make you fat.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Never mind” said Jane. “Turkey and cheese make you fat.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrz7wTEEDLf1M1shtnhyphenhyphenVy3R3FB6VQC5QvpUDnqDFKQuy-jgPHnJqQ5P3E6vQACwtqrfuIyO18v6c4PNXed2eGXTncgHzR-nBQbAq9SShiF4CF9Vh5f2SHOXSJ9_Uo_J2nSPY_SKWZCH0/s1600/P1050715.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrz7wTEEDLf1M1shtnhyphenhyphenVy3R3FB6VQC5QvpUDnqDFKQuy-jgPHnJqQ5P3E6vQACwtqrfuIyO18v6c4PNXed2eGXTncgHzR-nBQbAq9SShiF4CF9Vh5f2SHOXSJ9_Uo_J2nSPY_SKWZCH0/s1600/P1050715.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>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.<span> </span>“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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">“Let’s build a sand castle!” said Dick.<span> </span>See Dick and Jane build a sand castle. The
sand castle is very tall.<span> </span>See Dick’s
Hound.<span> </span>Dick’s Hound likes tall sand
castles.<span> </span>See Dick’s Hound admire the
tall sand castle. See Dick’s Hound add a moat. See Jane cry.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">See Jane. Jane is happy. The nice lady gave her a cookie.
See Dick. Dick is happy. The nice lady was Martha Stewart.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>The End</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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). <span> </span>But seriously… </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">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.<span> </span>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.<span>
</span>Who knew?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, making summertime living not easy </span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-18624993132833302412014-07-18T20:26:00.001-04:002014-07-18T20:31:37.955-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #353<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPF6A4VuoC7FoDNS2Gv-7e3nY2i1HGN_kBJ-nNoOCv9Ycq9TmYp41LMhCJIQoYVpHeUZtZub3RcxCjt1Sg-1F8GeGK_lJDlRVlV01iqRAHvk99iIUSSNvDNv6vGLV3fdYjplHafceCCOw/s1600/P1050666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WGDJ_hiAPVqK8DD9Nv1Xjh70AvDxIzamFkC8PUBhdTV5P_RbTZBUfn4APODxRHGvNmy9cwF-isLVJ4wrYt0nlL0dd7Bf1y2Q5fDTt5URGTZxjpHhzD8_d1X7iZ3JYW3eVwc5p1j5GBM/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-39.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1WGDJ_hiAPVqK8DD9Nv1Xjh70AvDxIzamFkC8PUBhdTV5P_RbTZBUfn4APODxRHGvNmy9cwF-isLVJ4wrYt0nlL0dd7Bf1y2Q5fDTt5URGTZxjpHhzD8_d1X7iZ3JYW3eVwc5p1j5GBM/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-39.jpeg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span> Entry # 353
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>July 18, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, the clubfooted wonder,
coming to you from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where I have been leading a
medically exciting life. For those of
you not following the highly fascinating Saga of My Toe, I had a benign growth
on one of my rear toes that periodically grew, bled, became infected, etc.
causing my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth no end of anxiety and vet
visits. The hope was to treat it via
drugs, compresses and ointments to avoid surgery. This was fine with me since I
became quite fond of the thing as it enabled me to extort belly rubs in return
for not licking it. Indeed, whenever I
felt in need of a belly rub, all I had to do was to park myself conspicuously
(although given my size, the conspicuousness probably goes without saying) in
front of one of my humans, lick it and wait for the “Wimsey stop licking your
toe” command and then roll over and wait for my reward.</span></span></div>
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shamelessly in Tuscany, the toe thing decided to undergo a major and bloody
growth spurt. This led to my visit last Thursday to the orthopedic surgeon at
Blue Pearl who usually sees me for phantom ailments that mysteriously vanish
when he examines me. But there are no flies growing on him and he didn’t get to
be a specialist orthopedic surgeon for nothing, so the minute he clapped eyes
on me he helpfully observed “Aha, I see that this time there really is
something the matter with Wimsey.” Fortunately, the thing was just confined to
the top layer of skin so the next morning I was unceremoniously hauled back
down to the hospital for its surgical excision.
But not before Elizabeth gave the vet her speech about how bloodhounds,
despite their robust appearance, have metabolisms that are akin to the delicate
ones of greyhounds and that we are actually quite easy to kill with a surfeit
of anesthesia. She also expounded upon
how I am a particularly poor metabolizer of drugs that are cleared through the
liver and that a slow titration of anesthesia drugs is crucial. I am sure that she was dying to give him a
lecture on the biochemistry of the cytochromes, but somehow she forbore. Elizabeth
is very popular among veterinarians because they always appreciate her helpful
suggestions that they try not to kill me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But fortunately, I am not disposed of so easily, and before
I knew it I woke up with a giant bandage covering half my leg, which, to me
seemed a tad excessive. The surgery went very well and the vet commented how the
skin on my toe fell right back in place with no tension, so the healing should
be quick. My humans were very happy to
hear that all my excess skin for once served a purpose other than mulching the
carpet, depositing sharp pieces of kibble under the bedclothes, secreting
unwanted medication, serving as a reservoir for drool and growing copious crops
of yeast. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPF6A4VuoC7FoDNS2Gv-7e3nY2i1HGN_kBJ-nNoOCv9Ycq9TmYp41LMhCJIQoYVpHeUZtZub3RcxCjt1Sg-1F8GeGK_lJDlRVlV01iqRAHvk99iIUSSNvDNv6vGLV3fdYjplHafceCCOw/s1600/P1050666.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPF6A4VuoC7FoDNS2Gv-7e3nY2i1HGN_kBJ-nNoOCv9Ycq9TmYp41LMhCJIQoYVpHeUZtZub3RcxCjt1Sg-1F8GeGK_lJDlRVlV01iqRAHvk99iIUSSNvDNv6vGLV3fdYjplHafceCCOw/s1600/P1050666.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span>And as usual, there was a plan afoot (every pun intended) to
cut my nails whilst I was too incapacitated to resist. And as with all other
such plots, someone forgot (probably because they were too absorbed in the slow
titration of the anesthesia). So the
first thing my humans noticed was that 1) I was alive and the second thing they
noticed was 2) I was still in possession of my magnificent talons. I have
always believed that my nails are under the protection of The Universe since
even the most foolproof plans to cut them resulted in failure. Nails 10, Humans
0. If there were a World Cup of nails, mine would be the champions.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But on the subject of nails, I now have a clubfoot (or hoof,
depending on which human you ask) instead of my usual taloned appendage, which
makes having a scratch something of a challenge. The first time I tried, I kind
of looked at the thing with that “what the hell is this?” look so well known to
my humans. I also find that climbing up on beds and furniture and such with a
slippery bandage rather than with grippy claws is a bit difficult but this is
more than made up for by the alacrity with which my humans jump to my assistance.
I do regret, though, that it is not on my front foot because it would make an
excellent thwacking enhancement. Bigger, better, and larger bruises!</span></span></div>
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Friday so I could go home by early evening the same day. After having Pet
Chauffeur take me home, the plan was for me to sleep off the rigors of the day
and for the ladies to drink Italian cocktails in the backyard and to order in a
vast amount of caloric take out food to celebrate my successful toe surgery.
However, like most of the plans that my humans make that involve me, it did not
work out. But first, they had to figure
out how to get the liquid buprenorphine pain killer down my gullet. In the end,
Elizabeth mixed it with organic vanilla yogurt and spoon-fed it to me the way
she does when I demand to share her pre-walk snack yogurt. The stuff didn’t
taste great, but as I have said many times, what I am being fed is less
important than the fact that I am being served it by my humans. (The next day,
Maria decided to try squirting the stuff down my throat and to say that this
was not happening was an understatement).</span></span></div>
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after a busy day under the knife and then yogurted with pain meds, I would
drift off peacefully to sleep while they ate and drank unimpeded. But as usual, they underestimated The Power of
the Hound. (Although I will say that in my drugged stupor I might actually have
lain down on the kuranda bed; not to worry, it hasn’t happened again since I’ve
been off the drugs). So imagine their surprise when the cocktails and nuts appeared
and so did I! I assumed my usual position with my dripping muzzle over
Elizabeth’s lap and demanded my share of the mixed nuts at cocktail time and food
during dinnertime. And lest you think it
hasn’t been tried, if Elizabeth moves her lap, I move my dripping muzzle. This
forces her to return home looking like she has had an unfortunate accident of
the lavatorial kind. I also demanded to
be fed pita bread dipped in humus. My humans weren’t sure that hummus was good
for me but acceded to my demands for it anyway under the theory that if I
survived the anesthesia I would survive the hummus. It is one of the many
benefits of being basically gigantic that it takes a lot of anything to do me
harm.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheejqhcUmuidi3tfwbvdgDMZLngK0z5qmcCfWXt6-Ib_coEsCWJ6Mtk-6XBCuZqsyCGKBxHkAoekLEbWuf1-zjhCtsqpsryHYnovZP7FWS1nSOYFzmIeh9xBnwuEKpo4P8MRKmIHjHAQ8/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-37.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheejqhcUmuidi3tfwbvdgDMZLngK0z5qmcCfWXt6-Ib_coEsCWJ6Mtk-6XBCuZqsyCGKBxHkAoekLEbWuf1-zjhCtsqpsryHYnovZP7FWS1nSOYFzmIeh9xBnwuEKpo4P8MRKmIHjHAQ8/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-37.jpeg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>I was not very interested in walking the first four days
after surgery and my humans couldn’t decide whether it was the hoof or the painkillers.
However, when I charged out of the apartment baying loudly the day after my
last dose of painkillers, they had their answer. Maria is relieved that she
doesn’t have to pretend to eat the drugged yogurt anymore. I will get the stiches out on Monday and until
then I am enjoying all the sympathy the giant bandage elicits—at least from
people other than my humans. I managed
to get the bandage wet once this week (saran wrap and plastic bags being no
match for a Hound), and had the toe rebandaged at my regular vet’s. The Hoof II is just as big as Hoof I and I
really think a bandage that goes half way up my leg is a bit much for a small
incision on my toe--but then again I get a lot of sympathy. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well if there was ever any doubt that I am a talented fellow,
I think that writing 1300 words about my toe should put those doubts to rest.
Of course you’ve just read 1300 words about my toe….</span></span></div>
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that my humans consider me to be pretty horrible—probably it’s all those “Wretched
animal!” and “I hate him!” texts that fly between them on a regular basis. And here
is one small example from yesterday as to why:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">2pm: I seem to be very gassy. Oh well, I’ll just take a nap
so I don’t have to smell it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">4:45pm: Elizabeth seems desperate for a 15-minute catnap on
the couch.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-NDMkkYQOS1AYj-VxYhAIs8NpFQVS6cvijJLROCMpVOgG9x3DLqx5acFvn0AT4Y3XjuxDhF7d2cS-50ebO4BZOFkQeFcjWv6HIsncJt6NGL4OAuL-B3sXuJXNhVtsXevXAv5nwGucLI/s1600/P1050696.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU-NDMkkYQOS1AYj-VxYhAIs8NpFQVS6cvijJLROCMpVOgG9x3DLqx5acFvn0AT4Y3XjuxDhF7d2cS-50ebO4BZOFkQeFcjWv6HIsncJt6NGL4OAuL-B3sXuJXNhVtsXevXAv5nwGucLI/s1600/P1050696.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>4:46: I now have an urgent need to arise from my afternoon
nap and engage in a noisy and prolonged drink of water.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">4:48: Why is Elizabeth lying on the couch under a fluffy
blanket? Is she OK? I’ll go check.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">4:49: Poked Elizabeth then noticed that my muzzle was
dripping so wiped it on the fluffy blanket.
Waved my tail at her to indicate that I would like a scratch.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQR3T00qBn6mvZtL6AuVXFWP2pOU1nN3MIWX6c3mHzjAPC-BsHeV9-rrOuy5-uDXwwuavtVV9QZ000f0M2MOK3b2QytGDXkOv_9qu6Pd1Whv4tQDqqiqGR6vUrqcJwQWzC7KAAWw_0kM0/s1600/IMG_20140706_143928.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQR3T00qBn6mvZtL6AuVXFWP2pOU1nN3MIWX6c3mHzjAPC-BsHeV9-rrOuy5-uDXwwuavtVV9QZ000f0M2MOK3b2QytGDXkOv_9qu6Pd1Whv4tQDqqiqGR6vUrqcJwQWzC7KAAWw_0kM0/s1600/IMG_20140706_143928.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>4:50: Elizabeth declined to provide scratch so I have to sit
down and have a noisy, grunting scratching session by myself.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5:00: Scratching
complete. Elizabeth still on the couch. Is she OK? I’ll check. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5:01: I am bored. Think I’ll lie down next to the couch and
chew my bully stick.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5:10: Bully sticks always make me thirsty. Time for a drink.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5:11 My muzzle is wet. Fortunately there is that fluffy
blanket that Elizabeth is under on the couch.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCBIVuPngV75w3RdkSP_ANKxA1_vzV1SWvqmCVJus0sCoBRHEl0HcUgqSRWjq2J_3tGgVQg50AVNTdhQM6WnWqeWNXNh7NCsQrKUBDaz8K0A2m7L8AcAPWv3tyQpjFqBYWbqZLdVFueE/s1600/P1050679.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCBIVuPngV75w3RdkSP_ANKxA1_vzV1SWvqmCVJus0sCoBRHEl0HcUgqSRWjq2J_3tGgVQg50AVNTdhQM6WnWqeWNXNh7NCsQrKUBDaz8K0A2m7L8AcAPWv3tyQpjFqBYWbqZLdVFueE/s1600/P1050679.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>5:12 Elizabeth up. She seems annoyed about something. I
know, let’s go for a walk! Perhaps it will help the gas problem I’ve had the
entire afternoon.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5:13: Elizabeth getting ready for our walk. Think I’ll eat a bowl of kibble.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5:15: Apparently I can’t go for a walk after eating
kibble. Just because I’ve never been
walked after eating a bowl of kibble doesn’t mean that it can’t happen. So I’ll
just keep asking to go for a walk anyway. You never know, right?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">6:14: Elizabeth getting ready for the walk again. Time to
demand my share of the pre-walk yogurt.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspcfAv-2JOdxs_qrSJArPL-YqoXoQ6n9J09_wllNU-iMdyrgDepOvIeAgNaqYKdpmic689JlD4ZMSQz6mnLmezULAN7Bz2Ic8gPXmKdVVDSkmdlewXsTb40e_tf7RTMAwFCCCwJCzBpo/s1600/P1050681.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjspcfAv-2JOdxs_qrSJArPL-YqoXoQ6n9J09_wllNU-iMdyrgDepOvIeAgNaqYKdpmic689JlD4ZMSQz6mnLmezULAN7Bz2Ic8gPXmKdVVDSkmdlewXsTb40e_tf7RTMAwFCCCwJCzBpo/s1600/P1050681.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>6:16: We’re out! Think I’ll sit in this nice field and watch
the dogs play in the dog run and that nice lady feed the squirrels. Was there something else I was supposed to
be doing? Hmmm. Can’t remember. Anyway, it couldn’t have been that important.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">6:17: Elizabeth texting. Again.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi090Ai8UJmm6-OkmJ22fUpQiGjjpKp4UeWlF1BiNknQGr2amNE2ZfhPTMSPrTTGhEoJrmNJqYCrbJKXfxfiJuybbPgZHkbTk3V-tN4z_7_9a0rt4YnY53gPcGFCRFMkX09cCMxp9dhDzY/s1600/P1050690.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi090Ai8UJmm6-OkmJ22fUpQiGjjpKp4UeWlF1BiNknQGr2amNE2ZfhPTMSPrTTGhEoJrmNJqYCrbJKXfxfiJuybbPgZHkbTk3V-tN4z_7_9a0rt4YnY53gPcGFCRFMkX09cCMxp9dhDzY/s1600/P1050690.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>My humans are so easily annoyed, it’s hardly even a challenge!
But they are now both working hard on getting my art book ready to be published
on Amazon, so when they are done dealing with me in the flesh (or more
accurately the fur), they have to deal with me in pictures. I am desperately eager for these books to be
published (they will come out in four volumes) since the more of me the
merrier. Or the more annoying. Your choice.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgkNftYBx4jrOsH5VBFVr7jPRbImCF5K2_e6_kxvBEI7OH9OiBnCb-0wLVms5z42dNZSOa66wrf6ofmRGgRjT3ccy5H7-Z5x7_wM2j42Lkk1ypzxHKUB7ivGhN_8vOJH_LQbbliV4Lqc/s1600/P1050680.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVgkNftYBx4jrOsH5VBFVr7jPRbImCF5K2_e6_kxvBEI7OH9OiBnCb-0wLVms5z42dNZSOa66wrf6ofmRGgRjT3ccy5H7-Z5x7_wM2j42Lkk1ypzxHKUB7ivGhN_8vOJH_LQbbliV4Lqc/s1600/P1050680.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Wimsey BigFoot (and mouth)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">PS: Did I mention I was undergoing mid-summer shedding?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-48479478921364576882014-07-04T20:58:00.000-04:002014-07-04T20:58:06.847-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #352<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7cymILz-51XwZkIky_R2o_8c54Cxy07FUy_4ukkVFWW6MWtuO1vgEr342dc6sWxGKFDu8z5kPqTdKHAHUuLYEuae_t1UCHvjDnvKfeparIglXoDEM-5RmfJneSDnaOJxi7OA182vX43o/s1600/P1050653.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7cymILz-51XwZkIky_R2o_8c54Cxy07FUy_4ukkVFWW6MWtuO1vgEr342dc6sWxGKFDu8z5kPqTdKHAHUuLYEuae_t1UCHvjDnvKfeparIglXoDEM-5RmfJneSDnaOJxi7OA182vX43o/s1600/P1050653.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Entry #352</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>July 4, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Happy July 4<sup>th</sup> Everyone! It’s me, Wimsey coming
to you from my rained out barbecue on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. Not to
worry—it has been postponed until tomorrow and I am to have an entire piece of
salmon from the fancy fish store—that is if my human Maria and her friend
Elizabeth can figure out how to work the barbecue thing-y without burning down
the yard. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxP1Dxm2cEbMAG9913ZISmuEFfI64Ndk79YNM4Vp3HziTpK9dphx2HL3hnTMsp8rz5rn9uJSu7oHHTpmm7Aux595QCWGn4UumO804fmTgddfOfuR2mxKTRlKuC0txh-qQr0vfi9BNlrE/s1600/IMG_20140622_184448.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpxP1Dxm2cEbMAG9913ZISmuEFfI64Ndk79YNM4Vp3HziTpK9dphx2HL3hnTMsp8rz5rn9uJSu7oHHTpmm7Aux595QCWGn4UumO804fmTgddfOfuR2mxKTRlKuC0txh-qQr0vfi9BNlrE/s1600/IMG_20140622_184448.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have been absent so long that I am sure many of you
thought that I would never return. But as my humans know, it is not so easy to
get rid of me. When we were last together, Elizabeth was going to leave me for
ten days to go hang out with clients and friends in the UK and Tuscany.<span> </span>Now I must say that I am usually a very
easy-going and agreeable Hound but when something Displeases me I will admit
that my behavior undergoes an alteration that is not always to the liking of my
humans. So when Maria started taking me out for my midday walk instead of
Elizabeth I was extremely Displeased.<span>
</span>This led to numerous emails and texts flying across the pond mostly on
the subject of how I was taking my displeasure out on Maria. I admit I may have
ignored Maria a bit by refusing to acknowledge her presence and always turning
my back on her when we were in the same room. Also, I stared at the door when
she came in to let her know that she was not the correct human. She also was
only able to administer my eye ointment and clean out my ears on two occasions
during the ten days. And I may have towed over to Elizabeth’s building on each
of my four walks a day.<span> </span>I was also
listless and depressed, but who among us would not be when a treasured servant
leaves us?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_w_nNNaBeVzWirzcWhNqm1CUAsbOgYvGd_FwcGRfnQBIlbrZlkun74HwujPvMFbvOev3HiYolPGh0nuaCcGMrxEBUp_EiX698aewCn6XNkofTovyvRPO6AaqgTRK7UshIGPSiEo8hSA/s1600/IMG_20140624_081642.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_w_nNNaBeVzWirzcWhNqm1CUAsbOgYvGd_FwcGRfnQBIlbrZlkun74HwujPvMFbvOev3HiYolPGh0nuaCcGMrxEBUp_EiX698aewCn6XNkofTovyvRPO6AaqgTRK7UshIGPSiEo8hSA/s1600/IMG_20140624_081642.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Elizabeth got back around 6-ish last Thursday and she
immediately went around the corner to Fairway to grocery shop. This meant that
when I came out of my building at 6:45 her scent was all over the place meaning
that I engaged in furious nose twitching.<span>
</span>Although I was cruelly prevented from following her scent to the shops,
I did the next best thing and parked my bottom on a park bench across from her
building.<span> </span>Maria had to summon Elizabeth
from her unpacking—it was all “You have to come out. He knows that you’re in
there and he’s not leaving.” And what a joyful reunion it was! So much slobber,
so much baying. Then I sat on her.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-HEDnqvppEbRcd6IsLEtAEIDeQkH2A6KTD0F5ZuXYqDJXvELyzrcTdyjPXp_YSaGuT5EGATpuDA6OjC6mW0oKhdIkBBnTTGIkKRzkXjMHlw3FZ2EUIOEFWzxakkYFhrUWGkp9luJYcs/s1600/IMG_20140624_082158.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdoxBsGFoadvoNYpuMqIVrlxbM91hksdv86eiiAhw_lxG9AWYkgrlcyU-Ac9UxBaA1z0SBR2Xt9x4Kni_CPRXeJ6Fb_3b1IWgMtHlw8dSeRkPKvT4BSHEvKZouqzCuE75MYJTjdq4a-JU/s1600/IMG_20140624_082555.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdoxBsGFoadvoNYpuMqIVrlxbM91hksdv86eiiAhw_lxG9AWYkgrlcyU-Ac9UxBaA1z0SBR2Xt9x4Kni_CPRXeJ6Fb_3b1IWgMtHlw8dSeRkPKvT4BSHEvKZouqzCuE75MYJTjdq4a-JU/s1600/IMG_20140624_082555.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdoxBsGFoadvoNYpuMqIVrlxbM91hksdv86eiiAhw_lxG9AWYkgrlcyU-Ac9UxBaA1z0SBR2Xt9x4Kni_CPRXeJ6Fb_3b1IWgMtHlw8dSeRkPKvT4BSHEvKZouqzCuE75MYJTjdq4a-JU/s1600/IMG_20140624_082555.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a>Elizabeth did send me some pictures from Tuscany, including
a photo of a lovely boar that was on the grounds of the spa of the thermal
spring whose laxative waters she was supposed to drink. Fortunately she just
sipped a bit but all the toilet talk among her fellow invitees made her feel
like she had never left me. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-HEDnqvppEbRcd6IsLEtAEIDeQkH2A6KTD0F5ZuXYqDJXvELyzrcTdyjPXp_YSaGuT5EGATpuDA6OjC6mW0oKhdIkBBnTTGIkKRzkXjMHlw3FZ2EUIOEFWzxakkYFhrUWGkp9luJYcs/s1600/IMG_20140624_082158.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-HEDnqvppEbRcd6IsLEtAEIDeQkH2A6KTD0F5ZuXYqDJXvELyzrcTdyjPXp_YSaGuT5EGATpuDA6OjC6mW0oKhdIkBBnTTGIkKRzkXjMHlw3FZ2EUIOEFWzxakkYFhrUWGkp9luJYcs/s1600/IMG_20140624_082158.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a>(Did I mention that my humans have an inexhaustible
ability to discuss my eliminatory activities?). My ancestors hunted juicy boar
and I was very disappointed that she did not bring one back for me. But apart
from the fact that I was not there (or maybe because of it) she had a lovely
time and got to wear real-person clothes and not Hound clothes and even got to
wear shoes with heels!<span> </span>(There is a pair
of white trousers in her closet with my name on them!), She actually had many
fascinating conversations that were not about me (a contradiction in terms if
ever there was one), admired some decorative men (fortunately they were taken—I
would NOT have approved) and ate her weight in gelato (for which I am intensely
jealous; it is after all the fact that I am the gelato-eater of the group that
keeps my humans’ clothes fitting the way that they are supposed to). </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsrlsmau3At5Mexiphs2VHip2ZF7_fr6XzvPycM_HnvWZha6nia0OpIc4TrbwWEzv76zdKOlXKt6agSUY_A8m19MHzfjvxbf4gspbYEhMIImYsvVERDwST8PYUXbh7Pfa-lufnXr3Ir0/s1600/P1050654.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsrlsmau3At5Mexiphs2VHip2ZF7_fr6XzvPycM_HnvWZha6nia0OpIc4TrbwWEzv76zdKOlXKt6agSUY_A8m19MHzfjvxbf4gspbYEhMIImYsvVERDwST8PYUXbh7Pfa-lufnXr3Ir0/s1600/P1050654.JPG" height="320" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, absent an actual juicy boar, I think that statue
would have looked great in my yard. Kind of like Hound food porn.<span> </span>And speaking of the yard, our friend Ilonka
came to visit to give her opinion on it. Sadly, Elizabeth was away at the time
but both humans were happy to know that according to Ilonka the yard isn’t
being overrun by weeds—all those things they keep cutting back on are actual
plants. Ilonka knew the names of them but Maria was not able to remember the name
of a single one when Elizabeth asked (gardening, I fear, being right up there
with learning to use the barbecue. Good thing I like raw salmon). However, my
humans already know the names of the plants: this is the plant that Wimsey
likes to eat, this is the plant that Wimsey likes to nap on instead of on his
kuranda bed, this is the plant that Wimsey likes to dig up, this is another
plant that Wimsey likes to eat, etc.…</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-m0dUgEsnuzmx36yUfbWZeU1kKcXzvHIJrSwG7wLxKm5-xiAC372bs5deTLFFDmjbsVtrTnUMK1eLonyQ9VQBK7_-N7jRsXoGe_kqfB6ZTFk95h4Jt6trKQeb4sZsE2eZdoFJvTWpgwI/s1600/IMG_20140622_124913.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqVLWwu2IbKoa5gaLz9_Ok9CHnv1P8tyj_Hys4-kNYfD8DbzSDzztjW6l0_PEVq8GyjSuy82kh5E16-LYgBdmKfTYX4jy5otU3cK3FhGiIVptINM7C2BnN5hbHWbkK1h7hfRfvyJ-xkg/s1600/IMG_20140702_133744.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqVLWwu2IbKoa5gaLz9_Ok9CHnv1P8tyj_Hys4-kNYfD8DbzSDzztjW6l0_PEVq8GyjSuy82kh5E16-LYgBdmKfTYX4jy5otU3cK3FhGiIVptINM7C2BnN5hbHWbkK1h7hfRfvyJ-xkg/s1600/IMG_20140702_133744.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYqVLWwu2IbKoa5gaLz9_Ok9CHnv1P8tyj_Hys4-kNYfD8DbzSDzztjW6l0_PEVq8GyjSuy82kh5E16-LYgBdmKfTYX4jy5otU3cK3FhGiIVptINM7C2BnN5hbHWbkK1h7hfRfvyJ-xkg/s1600/IMG_20140702_133744.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a>But my humans should know that I would never condescend to
eat and nap on weeds. As you may have surmised, the continued shunning of the
expensive kuranda bed continues unabated. But we are now back to all having
Saturday night dinner in the yard. This is preceded by mixed nuts with wine or
cocktails which means that eating the nuts is preceded by my humans having to
feed them to me, one nut at a time as I prefer. One must savor each one to the
fullest. And on the subject of cocktails, those who read this blog know that on
Elizabeth’s last trip (Maui) she came back with a recipe for mai tais. This
time she came back with a recipe for an aperitif called an Italian Spritz
(prosecco, aperole, club soda and orange slice) that have formed the basis of a
new round of alcoholic experiments. But as I always remind her, drinking a mai
tai on a Hawaiian beach or an Italian spritz at a tony hotel in Tuscany is not
the same thing as drinking them in a small, ugly yard surrounded by buildings
and containing an intrusive, drool-flinging Hound. And she wonders why they
never taste the same.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-m0dUgEsnuzmx36yUfbWZeU1kKcXzvHIJrSwG7wLxKm5-xiAC372bs5deTLFFDmjbsVtrTnUMK1eLonyQ9VQBK7_-N7jRsXoGe_kqfB6ZTFk95h4Jt6trKQeb4sZsE2eZdoFJvTWpgwI/s1600/IMG_20140622_124913.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-m0dUgEsnuzmx36yUfbWZeU1kKcXzvHIJrSwG7wLxKm5-xiAC372bs5deTLFFDmjbsVtrTnUMK1eLonyQ9VQBK7_-N7jRsXoGe_kqfB6ZTFk95h4Jt6trKQeb4sZsE2eZdoFJvTWpgwI/s1600/IMG_20140622_124913.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, not many picture this week as Elizabeth (my
photographer) came home with a pile of work and the weather has been too hot
for my usual extended walks. I am an air conditioning kind of guy and tried to
hide when my cooling coat made its first appearance of the season.<span> </span>But these projects that Elizabeth is so
preoccupied with seem to involve a lot of writing. Since I taught her
everything she knows about writing I am sure it is a challenge for her to write
business English which is supposed to feature short, active declarative
sentences—the opposite of how I write! So it occurred to me that these short,
active declarative sentences are vastly overrated and we have only to read The
Declaration of Independence to know why. Long sentences and passive
constructions have never read so well. But would The Declaration sound like if
it were written in a more modern style?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0n6SRkVBqO5MzIaWH8qp7ObGpnCRKdn3XK43ibxpQCdV3NZa64ljKkMzj8ZC8NBHZGmQxP_3cG00M3kbvWKtTjN0sTUbiY0FvLSQmjdnm0-mpt5iTzQK7mtlRG4_A7r2uiDh5ZLu6Q0/s1600/P1050651.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR0n6SRkVBqO5MzIaWH8qp7ObGpnCRKdn3XK43ibxpQCdV3NZa64ljKkMzj8ZC8NBHZGmQxP_3cG00M3kbvWKtTjN0sTUbiY0FvLSQmjdnm0-mpt5iTzQK7mtlRG4_A7r2uiDh5ZLu6Q0/s1600/P1050651.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Wimsey’ Business
English Declaration of Independence </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>MEMO</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>TO:</b> King George
III, CEO British Empire</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>FROM:</b> The
Founding Fathers</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>DATE:</b> July 4,
1776</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>RE:</b> Termination
for Cause</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dear Royal Highness,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It is with deep regret that I must inform you that human
events sometimes make it necessary for new Managements to dissolve political
bonds with former Managements. The new Management must exercise its right to
the separate and equal station to which they are entitled by both the Laws of
Nature and the Laws of God<span> </span>(to which, I
believe we both fully subscribe). Nevertheless, the new Management does feel
that it is incumbent upon it, in the spirit of fairness and transparency, to
provide you with the rationale behind our recent acquisition of your colony and
of your subsequent dismissal as CEO. We assure you that, appearances to the
contrary, these actions were not hasty nor poorly thought out. We think that in
the end this will be a win-win for both parties.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Firstly, we here, at The United States,
Inc. (formerly, The Colonies, Ltd.). believe the following:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>1. Our Creator endowed us with a
variety of highly important inalienable rights that apply across the board to
the entirety of mankind. We feel that this is an important point to make since
we also believe that Our Creator created all men (even those whose family
connections enabled them to hold CEO positions in vast empires) equal.</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9yeu_LSYI5z8GE_g93oatr9uyb00Wi5BpaLq54o3EfnjB43Y-07mnVYklOQZL0HTanREbGIzsrAO-Whd4rQHCu7DyNI6uj4kMov-IgrieZSW_BIP_CYSYOE8NPM24O_-6n6FtqyW9Yw/s1600/P1050659.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9yeu_LSYI5z8GE_g93oatr9uyb00Wi5BpaLq54o3EfnjB43Y-07mnVYklOQZL0HTanREbGIzsrAO-Whd4rQHCu7DyNI6uj4kMov-IgrieZSW_BIP_CYSYOE8NPM24O_-6n6FtqyW9Yw/s1600/P1050659.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>2. The specific inalienable rights to
which we refer in point 1, include, but are not limited to:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>
</span></span><span></span><span>Life</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>
</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span></span></span><span>Liberty</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><span>
</span></span><span style="color: black;"><span></span></span><span>Pursuit of Happiness</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DFbFnrEvxty2SXGFobeiV6YUQBjS8yptogF6edSQAn8rk53zDIGnm5Bu-VJko1l3-WSwLhwmv3D_OvCqk0IpcnSX2ivdUKXww9WcGGvPfwW_kJNBsccSpSV0v5mH8BryTfpmoC8Dp3A/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-29.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Furthermore, we believe that the
mission of Managements is to ensure that these inalienable rights are available
to all shareholders and that fulfillment of this mission underpins a
Management’s very existence. When Managements fail in this mission, (as we
believe you have), shareholders have the right (endowed, as are all rights
referred to herein, by The Creator, whether or not so specified) to alter or
replace those Managements with one better aligned with their interests and
better qualified to promote Safety and Happiness. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Rest assured, therefore, these actions
have not been taken lightly and our failure to act in the past is more a
reflection of a natural inertia than our acquiescence to your unfortunate
policies. Our current actions result from a long string of what we feel are
abuses and usurpations on your part which we have no choice but to view as a
desire by you to exercise unacceptable despotic rule. We believe that we have
been more than patient with these tyrannical antics, but now feel that we have
both a right and a duty to remedy the situation.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>We have specifically documented the
following failures on your part: </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">1. You have refused to support laws and policies that we
believe are necessary for the public good.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">2.<span> </span>You have declared that laws cannot be passed
without your prior approval but have then remained unresponsive to our requests
for such approval.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">3.
You have engaged in bullying tactics verging on blackmail by refusing to give
your approval to various laws unless those making them allow you to rule
instead.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">4.<span> </span>You have called management meetings at
locations and at times that you knew would make attendance impossible.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">5.
You have repeatedly fired people who disagreed with you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">6.
You have refused to replace those that you fired which has resulted in a
massive power vacuum that left shareholders vulnerable to hostile takeovers by
competing French, Spanish and Native American interests.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">7.
You have repeatedly shot down all our attempts to promote personnel growth and
real estate expansion that we believe are highly desirable.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">8.<span> </span>You have blocked our attempts to establish a
judicial system and insisted that you hire all judges and that your office pay
their salaries in order to control them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">9.<span> </span>You expanded your military presence here
without our consent and for the sole purpose of intimidation and harassment and
then forced us to feed them as well.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVCqlWvPw_cQpp6GjmBlSW9rZewOW34qBK8PEFb-1fh9TnK_ksQb_7DgzvG8LsLAm3pjQiabADsERUUu4MJ84mqAQhSJ8gWbOPEyV420z3CcVlUqHPuajcxlDwlZXaX8kgiRLAkw8pGA/s1600/P1050652.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVCqlWvPw_cQpp6GjmBlSW9rZewOW34qBK8PEFb-1fh9TnK_ksQb_7DgzvG8LsLAm3pjQiabADsERUUu4MJ84mqAQhSJ8gWbOPEyV420z3CcVlUqHPuajcxlDwlZXaX8kgiRLAkw8pGA/s1600/P1050652.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">10.
The military mentioned in #9 refused to obey civilian authorities, and as a
result of your direct encouragement they placed themselves above the law.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">11.<span> </span>You tried to single handedly replace us with
a bunch of hand picked associates who agreed with your ideas.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">12.
<span> </span>Again, we must recur to those troops
that you sent who were expensive and not only were not value added but actually
engaged in criminal activities for which they were not punished.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">13.
You cut off our global trading capacities</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">14.
You unilaterally imposed taxes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">15.
You deprived us of jury trials and had dissenting stockholders deported for
fictitious crimes</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">16.
You wanted us to become part of Canada</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">17.
You unilaterally revoked laws and altered our management structure and
attempted to micromanage all governance without consulting us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">18.
You waged war on us causing a tremendous amount of property damage and loss of
life.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">19.
You sent vast armies and groups of mercenaries to subdue us when you were
unable to win your arguments. The words perfidy, cruelty and barbarous have
been variously used to describe your conduct and those of your henchmen. We
believe that your conduct is incompatible with civilization.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">20.
You forced our sailors to work on your warships, killed a large number of
people (a point that bears repeating), encouraged our enemies to attack us,
etc. We found this conduct profoundly unhelpful.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DFbFnrEvxty2SXGFobeiV6YUQBjS8yptogF6edSQAn8rk53zDIGnm5Bu-VJko1l3-WSwLhwmv3D_OvCqk0IpcnSX2ivdUKXww9WcGGvPfwW_kJNBsccSpSV0v5mH8BryTfpmoC8Dp3A/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-29.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1DFbFnrEvxty2SXGFobeiV6YUQBjS8yptogF6edSQAn8rk53zDIGnm5Bu-VJko1l3-WSwLhwmv3D_OvCqk0IpcnSX2ivdUKXww9WcGGvPfwW_kJNBsccSpSV0v5mH8BryTfpmoC8Dp3A/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-29.jpeg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span></span></span></span>I
apologize in advance for the redundancy of several of these points, but we feel
rather strongly about them and should you feel this list is insufficient or
require more information we would, of course, be happy to supply it. We believe
that the current list is of sufficient merit, however, to warrant your
immediate termination.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Rest
assured that we have tried on multiple occasions to contact you with reference
to the matters listed above, but you have always been unavailable. We also
attempted to discuss these matters with your representatives but these
discussions proved unproductive. We have reluctantly concluded that your
continued position with us is no longer tenable or to our mutual benefit. We
suggest that therapy or counseling may prove useful and wish you the best of
luck in your future endeavors.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We
therefore, as the New Management of the newly formed entity, The United States
of America, Inc. declare that we are a free and independent entity and no
longer have any relationship with our former CEO, His Majesty George III. We
refer all future inquiries to his lawyers. </span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Management
will now be solely responsible for such operations as declaring war, concluding
peace, contracting alliances, establishing commerce, etc. that were previously
the responsibility of our former CEO. We want to assure the public that we are
all heavily invested in the new enterprise and have pledged our lives, fortunes
and honor to it and believe that these assets, together with Divine Providence
are more than sufficient to ensure a successful outcome. Please find below the
signature of representatives of our thirteen new subsidiaries who look forward
to serving you in the future.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Best
regards,</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
Founding Fathers</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well you get the idea.<span>
</span>Perhaps I will be able to help Elizabeth with her business writing after
all. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, Happy July 4<sup>th</sup> everyone!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCewn4JA682mMB-CAYVxfffj1-yl-XgdJqBElR-OP5ZT8zQ2onULQZiuc742hpnf16sa3P0czKaPc2-rZO9NUogtAWnQuF-cVi30uTgb2S4lurbHTdWqtGv_jCqd2xW7b-aHqplOahBQ/s1600/P1050663.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmCewn4JA682mMB-CAYVxfffj1-yl-XgdJqBElR-OP5ZT8zQ2onULQZiuc742hpnf16sa3P0czKaPc2-rZO9NUogtAWnQuF-cVi30uTgb2S4lurbHTdWqtGv_jCqd2xW7b-aHqplOahBQ/s1600/P1050663.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wimsey, Gone for a few weeks but forgotten never (I hope)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-61830008231943480832014-06-13T21:18:00.002-04:002014-06-13T21:18:43.135-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #351<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NV4PPcOzc5IeHzPp3OzfTgASxCJIe8G9oJt7fAMWgPjv_pAi5WDssqu86INZ7oDclqfRqNMVrepyKDge7EvMD-bO2rEooulM9-nKxqC4JDOlEcjzON17r03iLk22tE6OxeQiE8xK7q4/s1600/P1050628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NV4PPcOzc5IeHzPp3OzfTgASxCJIe8G9oJt7fAMWgPjv_pAi5WDssqu86INZ7oDclqfRqNMVrepyKDge7EvMD-bO2rEooulM9-nKxqC4JDOlEcjzON17r03iLk22tE6OxeQiE8xK7q4/s1600/P1050628.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #351</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>June 13, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey coming to you from
Manhattan’s Upper West Side where the weather gods are wreaking havoc with what
used to be known as spring. It’s been mostly chilly and humid which means that
I have to listen to my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth complain about
being both cold AND being sweaty. Then every now and then it just gets hot. Or
very rainy. One never knows what to expect next.<span> </span>Rather like life with a Hound.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1NK98cyhq9dPL6vlS1pmFF8-L5hPxYRyh-O4C6Ws22kvL7Ta_4MOhyphenhyphenTz9TzKUBEf4WCOuHnGiZkWezZeearNOq9O5EHgOE87mp-x9EyCr_f_2IKbvxHp1TzkxCJXWzjxzk1TOZuAAz0/s1600/P1050642.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1NK98cyhq9dPL6vlS1pmFF8-L5hPxYRyh-O4C6Ws22kvL7Ta_4MOhyphenhyphenTz9TzKUBEf4WCOuHnGiZkWezZeearNOq9O5EHgOE87mp-x9EyCr_f_2IKbvxHp1TzkxCJXWzjxzk1TOZuAAz0/s1600/P1050642.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>As many of you know, I am being abandoned for nine days.
Elizabeth is going to Europe which means that my primary human, Maria, will
have to take full care of me. There is some compensation in that she is taking
a few days off next week to devote herself to the effort full time and I am
also to have a visit from one of my favorite humans, Ilonka who is married to
Paul who is the founder of my brewery, Baying Hound Ale Works.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EZOJ8rznMP7K0gjLnPwDszsEEsaMqXCVoKP-uN-i1CA_MPWiuoqQijn3ksBt3ZTT0NHp23wiJ27ZhZJ3iNXxOyunBcG5BENj5Rsl_w-X4UVRd2ppWciexNbbOgfnSG1j-s2JF8u9jc0/s1600/P1050643.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EZOJ8rznMP7K0gjLnPwDszsEEsaMqXCVoKP-uN-i1CA_MPWiuoqQijn3ksBt3ZTT0NHp23wiJ27ZhZJ3iNXxOyunBcG5BENj5Rsl_w-X4UVRd2ppWciexNbbOgfnSG1j-s2JF8u9jc0/s1600/P1050643.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a> </span>She will be bringing along a friend to add to
my entourage hoping to distract me from the fact that one of my humans had the
temerity to leave me.<span> </span>And better yet, we
will all be crammed into my tiny apartment which means that not only can’t you
run, you can’t hide either. Not from the drool, the hair, the stink and my tush
on your lap. I only hope that Ilonka is still friends with her friend after a
couple of days with me (and nights, during which I excel at running, farting
and snoring all at the same time).</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>So all this because Elizabeth has been asked to temporarily
join the 1% in Tuscany for a few days. I still can’t believe that she would
rather do this than be part of the 0% who have the privilege of not being listened
to by me.<span> </span>This has also induced her to
leave me alone during the day and engage in a flurry of shopping so she can
wear clothes that don’t smell and aren’t covered In drool stains or worse (I
managed to smear my butt along her pink t- shirt this week in the process of
settling myself in her lap. But pink and brown go, right?). <span> </span>I am sure that she will have many fun stories
when she returns, as everyone is supposed to drink these medicinal waters whose
main effect is apparently to make you run to the bathroom. So next time I grab
something revolting on the street that has similar properties I will claim that
it was for medicinal purposes!<span> </span></span></span></div>
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my humans out for a 3-hour frolic in the park on Sunday. Although mainly this
consisted of me resting in shady bowers while my humans stood around and gave
their sunscreen a workout while watching me. <span> </span>But since the weather has been largely cool
and cloudy I have been out and about and my humans have been spared my annual
metamorphosis into Wimsey the Vampire Hound in which I run from shady spot to
shady spot to avoid the direct sunlight. Summer would be great if it were not
for the weather.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJODDX65lcRIosouMHFPjhmtHEhx33jQDNeGSBsIQBKSy7hQeMUQWyx5Jbif-TK_nAQ8AC9fKga6yYAVbqH7ZBSpsc5IJKr4AoE3uuF78UaIx_F_lQRRP8lXM42c7QRIu-R1z6YY68HXc/s1600/P1050640.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJODDX65lcRIosouMHFPjhmtHEhx33jQDNeGSBsIQBKSy7hQeMUQWyx5Jbif-TK_nAQ8AC9fKga6yYAVbqH7ZBSpsc5IJKr4AoE3uuF78UaIx_F_lQRRP8lXM42c7QRIu-R1z6YY68HXc/s1600/P1050640.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Good Things About
Summer</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">People carry plastic water bottles which I am very good
at<span> </span>“obtaining”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The exciting absence of a lot of scent-and-cold-nose
impeding clothing</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7EZOJ8rznMP7K0gjLnPwDszsEEsaMqXCVoKP-uN-i1CA_MPWiuoqQijn3ksBt3ZTT0NHp23wiJ27ZhZJ3iNXxOyunBcG5BENj5Rsl_w-X4UVRd2ppWciexNbbOgfnSG1j-s2JF8u9jc0/s1600/P1050643.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>But another good thing about summer is finally getting to go
out in my yard. Last Saturday I spend the afternoon watching Maria try to dismantle
and remove at least some of the junk left by the previous tenant of the
adjacent apartment.<span> </span>Then Elizabeth tried
to use a pair of pruning shears which was only marginally more useful than me
trying to use a pair of pruning shears (New Yorker not being especially well
known for their gardening skills).<span> </span>When
she started cutting things this led to the Great Debate about which pieces of
vegetation were actually plants and which were weeds-- but really, if you can’t
tell the difference, does it really matter? As long as they don’t remove the
ones that I like to eat. </span></span></div>
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not on my kuranda bed.<span> </span>Maria keeps
hopefully repositioning it around the yard under the theory that if only she
found the right spot I would use it. <span> </span>This
is kind of like thinking that if only she told me to sit often enough I would
do it. But as a reward for all of our labors we rewarded ourselves with the
first Saturday wine and pizza night of the year. I ate quite a bit—cut up and
hand fed to me the way I like it naturally. Apparently when you drool on a
piece, it’s yours. <span> </span>And as happens every
year, plans are being made to try to barbecue—Maria bought all the gear several
years ago but has yet to get up the courage to use it. Barbecuing is right up
there with gardening, driving and pumping gas in my humans’ arsenal of skills.<span> </span>They can take comfort in the fact that I will
be on hand to deal with any unsuccessful experiments. </span></span></div>
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observe that New York is full of odd things (like giant, baying bloodhounds)
and here is a statue of a giant, non-baying raven. Why? Because the building
behind me used to be a farmhouse owned by Edgar Alan Poe’s parents and he wrote
“The Raven” there. Things have changed a bit. Sadly, I am not allowed to pee on
this raven which is disappointing since I’ve never peed on a raven before and I
believe that expanding one’s horizons is important for personal growth.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And speaking of new experiences, Elizabeth showed Maria the clothing
that she bought and Maria looked on in horror as a pair of white trousers
appeared. One person’s white trousers are another person’s canvas. Will
Elizabeth ever be able to wear these trousers?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Quoth The Wimsey, “Nevermore”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1YX4kPYI4IddhKYOrPIPFVozzUezKq94hq1OX3kMDPwhtjityI6Lg6DSOF_OgM871mutFnD0aOKN2srAzXMQEzAvawHuKxZua-mea8B3em6_KGA_vJ3ddoLILVMUI4aMPY4iVZ1wLZw/s1600/P1050648.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1YX4kPYI4IddhKYOrPIPFVozzUezKq94hq1OX3kMDPwhtjityI6Lg6DSOF_OgM871mutFnD0aOKN2srAzXMQEzAvawHuKxZua-mea8B3em6_KGA_vJ3ddoLILVMUI4aMPY4iVZ1wLZw/s1600/P1050648.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-83657717642874054482014-06-06T19:50:00.002-04:002014-06-06T19:50:20.334-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #350<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKHBF_QcrTTa29e78aPXG8l1BGYDdLVXsnjXe_UvRfXv0_e1EbxO5yvs_odBH-ipcW1SdlArqoJjheMEAVbSr0hA2GiYpthkSBpawrDf5UGdJ3Zex9InfAapSrDX20ZYtZ0WmsFMuTFnQ/s1600/P1050617.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKHBF_QcrTTa29e78aPXG8l1BGYDdLVXsnjXe_UvRfXv0_e1EbxO5yvs_odBH-ipcW1SdlArqoJjheMEAVbSr0hA2GiYpthkSBpawrDf5UGdJ3Zex9InfAapSrDX20ZYtZ0WmsFMuTFnQ/s1600/P1050617.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Entry #350</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>June 6, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey! I am back again at my post
(no pun intended) here on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, where owing to my human
Maria and her friend Elizabeth being busy and me being lazy, I have not had a
chance to write a single word.<span> </span>Two whole
weeks without there being any news about me. It’s tragic.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdIZrbhIS7rd5tXnlNqBRwWnzbgYNwG2AWNJJgO8vQQt2MRXUsk9_geNlmz0hyphenhyphenAziQmgZrdmFHoCrtPk851lgI8ABKqzIw_xXERsYDycGObko8306UfvyP0hAbLcyHnT_7nmvbhUzl-M/s1600/P1050606.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdIZrbhIS7rd5tXnlNqBRwWnzbgYNwG2AWNJJgO8vQQt2MRXUsk9_geNlmz0hyphenhyphenAziQmgZrdmFHoCrtPk851lgI8ABKqzIw_xXERsYDycGObko8306UfvyP0hAbLcyHnT_7nmvbhUzl-M/s1600/P1050606.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, as those of you who follow my doings know, Elizabeth
was busy with meetings in New York and Boston last week, which meant that ONCE
AGAIN Maria had to come walk me in the middle of the day and to minister to my
many needs. I do not like when this happens. And when a Hound does not like
something to happen it generally does not happen. Now when Elizabeth comes to
pick me up at midday she puts ointment in my eyes, cleans out my ears, puts
drops in them, brushes my teeth and puts antibiotic ointment on my toe.<span> </span>All this happens whilst I sit enthroned on
the Tribute Couch receiving cooing accolades on my good behavior and receiving
Elizabeth’s undivided attention, which I find quite pleasing.<span> </span>And also as many of you know, I am a Hound of
Fixed Opinions and one of them is that my humans are like apps—they each have a
different function, so when Maria tries to medicate me it’s like calling a taxi
with Uber and getting the weather instead. The upshot of all this is, is that
Elizabeth was on the receiving end (for once) of irate emails about my lack of
cooperation (i.e., fleeing) <i>vis </i>my
treatments and how she is likely to find a medical mess when she returns
because I would not permit Maria to come near me with any of the necessary
stuff.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObMrbGKhKZZ2L5RyxUTO76Sy2uGLYKCAgAVVDKCWqgi7xphY8O9It8HfUh8-M-KRIEtaqtuMypj1ZxLQUYtYOz-Pz6_XMZAwCCDfK0Ek5Z8S0zzE2AC_EjqQzYSCoU93_iix3dF4H-0E/s1600/P1050604.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObMrbGKhKZZ2L5RyxUTO76Sy2uGLYKCAgAVVDKCWqgi7xphY8O9It8HfUh8-M-KRIEtaqtuMypj1ZxLQUYtYOz-Pz6_XMZAwCCDfK0Ek5Z8S0zzE2AC_EjqQzYSCoU93_iix3dF4H-0E/s1600/P1050604.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>I mean as The Hound in Charge I do have to enforce division
of labor discipline or else there would be chaos (by which I mean chaos that I
have not created). I would never know who is doing what and when. If there is
any element of surprise to be doled out I need to be the one responsible. As
in, “Surprise!<span> </span>That sandwich you turned
your back on for a micro second is gone” or “Surprise! There is no longer any
dirty underwear to wash” or “Surprise! I did some gardening,” etc.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4032sZEBDSKbCcs33qUTGmDmMz8N7ryMbxqDA3bnPAyqUpWolpexM-tMOBlZ9bIeJ7Hlkgf_jeDM2OZCMhnU3etnXTKLRNnc8ZdP6uUVDpPTelyh7RNiTn2UNCcOB71DJXEYgAxGzrzs/s1600/P1050624.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4032sZEBDSKbCcs33qUTGmDmMz8N7ryMbxqDA3bnPAyqUpWolpexM-tMOBlZ9bIeJ7Hlkgf_jeDM2OZCMhnU3etnXTKLRNnc8ZdP6uUVDpPTelyh7RNiTn2UNCcOB71DJXEYgAxGzrzs/s1600/P1050624.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, apparently the lack of recent practice in taking
care of me has resulted in some very sloppy caretaking on Elizabeth’s part. She
forgot to boil my chicken breasts for my lunch the way she always does on Monday—her
apartment is so fragrant on Mondays that my nose practically twitches off my
snout—and was forced to substitute hard boiled eggs instead. Fortunately, I
enjoy hard boiled eggs, but like everything else that is prepared for me, I
demand pieces of a certain size and feel compelled to reject pieces of things
that are either too small or too big. So on Monday, I had no sooner put the
snout into the trough, so to speak, when I noticed an unacceptably large piece
of hard boiled egg.<span> </span>This I immediately
removed from my bowl, dropped on the floor in front of Elizabeth (I like my
humans to stand around and admire me while I eat) and glared at her.<span> </span>After once slicing my duck hearts into pieces
that I considered too large, she really should know better.<span> </span>I’m not even going to complain (again) about
the lack of sufficient butter on my baked yams.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_lbLsUcgs4ZnYxoFe8_5v2-c9GmJjY6FwSUdM8CRKLbLViKfXuj64KKpyn6V-dG52azbbIwJlNaHwrgsWiBKF1CgD-D_SDXGCCFUIcQBzU3sFLmxwkJGSRkZrNBWcPID20EFOqzQPc8/s1600/P1050616.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_lbLsUcgs4ZnYxoFe8_5v2-c9GmJjY6FwSUdM8CRKLbLViKfXuj64KKpyn6V-dG52azbbIwJlNaHwrgsWiBKF1CgD-D_SDXGCCFUIcQBzU3sFLmxwkJGSRkZrNBWcPID20EFOqzQPc8/s1600/P1050616.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>So what else is new? I was about to report an unprecedented
absence from the vet’s office but this is not strictly speaking true. My humans
did not like the look of the growth on my toe (there are plans afoot to freeze
it off with cryosurgery at some point) and I had been engaging in a bit of a
flap-a-thon so I was in fact taken to the vet. However, in the 24 hours between
the symptoms and my appointment I underwent another one of those Wimsey Pre-Vet
Appointment Miracle Cures (the ones that have the vets scratching their heads
and my humans looking like they have Munchausen Syndrome)—pristine ears and a
non-angry looking toe.<span> </span>The vet felt so
sorry for my humans that she didn’t charge anything but I was somewhat
compensated for my lack of imposing a financial burden by the fact that
Elizabeth was forced to drop her work on a very busy project to take me to the
appointment. Although I prefer to cost my humans both time and money, sadly I
had to settle for time. For now.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONyZGLu9F4b07kOKCNg9l70lGMvKp-8waeTX4cAEIes_llrV_a03R1hLaOO9JuYPZDJg2ypZkVZJf2YInIKbctuCogZLXbL2fd7Dy9kao_uB3B6X4FEnxG_dMoAoEFSJzExzbisI0yNc/s1600/P1050603.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONyZGLu9F4b07kOKCNg9l70lGMvKp-8waeTX4cAEIes_llrV_a03R1hLaOO9JuYPZDJg2ypZkVZJf2YInIKbctuCogZLXbL2fd7Dy9kao_uB3B6X4FEnxG_dMoAoEFSJzExzbisI0yNc/s1600/P1050603.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>The summer season is also underway in Central Park and this
means that I am the focus of much seasonal attention.<span> </span>There are photo opps and snack feeding opps
aplenty at this time of year and since people eat al fresco, so do I. Somehow
my summer walks all entail routes that take us along park benches and verdant
fields fragrant with picnic remains. But owing to the warmth and sunny nature
of the season I do feel impelled to take frequent breaks in the shade while my
humans stand around in the sun and watch me relax. If they too try to sit with
me and relax I get up and pull them somewhere else. Ditto if they try to take a
break from watching me and try to check their emails or something—up I get.<span> </span>It’s this kind of behavior that wins me the
many “Wretched Hound” accolades in which I bask.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABoNxJBj9caV4wNxSIZtD9t4CrraILS8CDVIbPkTjdGdcZufD73_WcnH-Woe45AR2zeu_dWcjpnTyADxCHF8G6z6uAKj-hWKhP9O-vmGUPoZ4B5aqKPZGljXzg3Ch1EwPmRW81vDvxMk/s1600/P1050601.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABoNxJBj9caV4wNxSIZtD9t4CrraILS8CDVIbPkTjdGdcZufD73_WcnH-Woe45AR2zeu_dWcjpnTyADxCHF8G6z6uAKj-hWKhP9O-vmGUPoZ4B5aqKPZGljXzg3Ch1EwPmRW81vDvxMk/s1600/P1050601.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>But there is Evil afoot. Elizabeth has selfishly accepted an
invitation to go to Tuscany in the middle of the month, and is stopping off en
route to see friends in the UK. <span> </span>She is
flying across the pond on her favorite airline, Virgin Atlantic, which
coincidentally happens to be the only airline whose planes have a bar (although
what she finds to drink about when I am not around is a mystery). But I think I
could do better than Richard Branson:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound Atlantic</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJT_tWBCofe8sRfAHfnSdyTIvAj9TSG_Zfrl0Viqup-mpzH_ZMdXVVDH5l3XVPUCdy_hcWYTL_9CPugCASkVFP4VreFOpzXdrEZ6h7248byOjubQlzaL4UNOSqKmElakpB-3le9NNUws/s1600/P1050621.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJT_tWBCofe8sRfAHfnSdyTIvAj9TSG_Zfrl0Viqup-mpzH_ZMdXVVDH5l3XVPUCdy_hcWYTL_9CPugCASkVFP4VreFOpzXdrEZ6h7248byOjubQlzaL4UNOSqKmElakpB-3le9NNUws/s1600/P1050621.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Hound fight attendant</b>:
Welcome to Hound Atlantic, the Airline that Doesn’t Care About You (actually,
none of them do, we are just honest about it). Captain Hubert is in command of
our aircraft, and of you today and he has turned on the fasten seat belt sign
so we ask that you return to your seats—or what’s left of them—and fasten your
seat belt.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Mine
just has the metal buckles! Where’s the rest of it?</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> I see that you haven’t flown with us before. If you had, you
would not have to ask. You won’t find those safety cards in your seat backs
that no one reads either. But don’t worry; one of our flight attendants will be
around to sit on your lap during takeoff and landing.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> But
they weigh 130lbs!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0lVDJExur6E06i_vjC6G1aIqjZxaKd8L8METiMzzL3DmSbPvLUQe0JoF_uNsJoZW37M6ZK3xdKeqx1gZF3l5SWZz2A7dnjwnhHhYjF_1uw34EO3g44XwkAAP_HZsaHLsTrWyR8yHBeE/s1600/P1050623.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk0lVDJExur6E06i_vjC6G1aIqjZxaKd8L8METiMzzL3DmSbPvLUQe0JoF_uNsJoZW37M6ZK3xdKeqx1gZF3l5SWZz2A7dnjwnhHhYjF_1uw34EO3g44XwkAAP_HZsaHLsTrWyR8yHBeE/s1600/P1050623.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Hound fight
attendant:</b> Exactly. You won’t be going anywhere. It’s one of our advanced
safety features.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> I also want to remind our passengers that interfering with or
not obeying a member of the flight crew is a Federal offense and that this
applies whenever or wherever you encounter one of us. Now please turn off all
electronic devices and pass them to a flight attendant. Their use during flight
is prohibited. Except by us.</span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Why do
we have to give them to a fight attendant?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> Because due to cutbacks we no longer have sufficient staff to
steal them all ourselves. </span></span></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> But
why can you use them and we can’t?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight attendant</b>:
Because we use them for a different purpose that does not involve turning them
on.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOf4aGtCyZSPUz8Qbw-9SQ07Me83XEl5WST0CU5kfFA739P5P5B_opZc4_Pa_vypu9FNwA-INKsnn615iSeSWOElwR22JwyKJmf3QckyeD5tKMfTUGaGpNHZr-82z7dLdvQWoRpw0C-8/s1600/P1050625.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifOf4aGtCyZSPUz8Qbw-9SQ07Me83XEl5WST0CU5kfFA739P5P5B_opZc4_Pa_vypu9FNwA-INKsnn615iSeSWOElwR22JwyKJmf3QckyeD5tKMfTUGaGpNHZr-82z7dLdvQWoRpw0C-8/s1600/P1050625.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Passenger:</b> Well
when will I get mine back?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> You really have never flown with us have you? </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Well<b> </b>what about a drink?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> I was just coming to that. Ladies and gentleman after takeoff
our flight attendants will be coming through the cabin to offer you a beverage
of your choice.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> What
are the choices?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> Coke with drool, sprite with drool, orange juice with drool,
coffee or tea with drool, fancy bottled water with drool and of course, our
specialty drink, Just Drool.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Can I
have that on the rocks?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhCDIS9_8jErlrwIuObDAOdRLN7ec9fOQNO7YrlDnh9pf8tIWZJAuVp74Qv89R-4AstzYLj75-JcLwJBHRcZoRIUQlHDGYcF2OOc5GaW_EQlHbHQa1ox1nT3d_7GGhrCYgCk8wU8XqM8/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-28.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIhCDIS9_8jErlrwIuObDAOdRLN7ec9fOQNO7YrlDnh9pf8tIWZJAuVp74Qv89R-4AstzYLj75-JcLwJBHRcZoRIUQlHDGYcF2OOc5GaW_EQlHbHQa1ox1nT3d_7GGhrCYgCk8wU8XqM8/s1600/get-attachment.aspx-28.jpeg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Hound fight
attendant:</b> Of course. We also have a selection of alcoholic beverages that
include wine with drool, beer with drool a selection of cocktails with drool
and our special house drink, Shots ‘n Drool.<span>
</span>These are available for purchase with a credit card that we will be
taking from you to verify their validity.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b>
Really? You verify the card?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> No, we eat them. But no one would give us the cards if we said
that. Notice that we didn’t promise to give them back. At least in their
original form. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> What
about food?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> I am just coming through the cabin to deliver a tray with our
award winning meals.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> But
this tray is empty!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Pzfr8ih3kaW4pq3HQTeYEwNmuZ5h0AN7ywHDHUccC2JjFlcC_3CE4Os1us6uAQEJNvHmx5ovD3krsAx1cMQ9obO9GYxTQCtbopvFADqY6yJtRC3lCxOlu9_mdPjikKkN0Nx-AWyi2bo/s1600/P1050600.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Pzfr8ih3kaW4pq3HQTeYEwNmuZ5h0AN7ywHDHUccC2JjFlcC_3CE4Os1us6uAQEJNvHmx5ovD3krsAx1cMQ9obO9GYxTQCtbopvFADqY6yJtRC3lCxOlu9_mdPjikKkN0Nx-AWyi2bo/s1600/P1050600.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Hound fight
attendant:</b> You snooze, you lose.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> But I
am hungry.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> Well I could try to get you a meal from first class.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Is
that an empty tray also?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight attendant</b>:
Absolutely not! First class passengers are served on elegant china!<span> </span>The meal is all the stuff that we don’t like
and spat out. I think the meal you have is better.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> And
who exactly did these meals win an award from?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight attendant</b>:
The American Kennel Club.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Well
what about entertainment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> I’m glad you asked. We have an award winning entertainment
system also. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Let me
guess. We throw squeaky toys for you to fetch.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEbvZlPW_CgpvwCoLCZS957K6eJDjhBqpj-JJozGlUJeikWtnHIqwunXneqLLOcEK5O6EzjXgWI_0Go58WPrVtk4maCDDwz6Hh1OlKVqupkpQzdNzqxpiXnlkhNCD1gGKgBG5Y7GzOPE/s1600/IMG_00000002.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEbvZlPW_CgpvwCoLCZS957K6eJDjhBqpj-JJozGlUJeikWtnHIqwunXneqLLOcEK5O6EzjXgWI_0Go58WPrVtk4maCDDwz6Hh1OlKVqupkpQzdNzqxpiXnlkhNCD1gGKgBG5Y7GzOPE/s1600/IMG_00000002.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Hound fight
attendant:</b> Don’t be ridiculous! Hounds don’t fetch. Why would we bring
something back that we went to all that trouble to retrieve? Anyway, each row
has its personal entertainment system. A flight attendant will stretch out on
all of you and thwack you until you scratch him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger</b>: Is
there audio entertainment?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> He snores.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> That
sounds like an entertainment system for the flight attendants.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight attendant</b>:
Well yes. It’s not all about you, you know. And we didn’t say who our entertainment
system entertains.<span> </span>But scratching a
Hound will lower your blood pressure-- at least until you get the bill for the
flight.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Passenger:</b> Do
people really fly this airline?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound fight
attendant:</b> Absolutely! Haven’t you seen our advertising campaign--<br />
“Hound Atlantic: Something Special In the Air.” We just don’t say what.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEVgxWP7V818D4VcZm7O2bruRqxX5yL0_TfVcDhebiVXoFh6pMhmq_Ksf9Ckx8-ldzqf459m9uYox_IzE_l0zCHtaFQWy_MoV6TTRbHgXUaeMjeGj3Qn4Hffgw7H28oevju0-AWKXGcE/s1600/P1050612.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEVgxWP7V818D4VcZm7O2bruRqxX5yL0_TfVcDhebiVXoFh6pMhmq_Ksf9Ckx8-ldzqf459m9uYox_IzE_l0zCHtaFQWy_MoV6TTRbHgXUaeMjeGj3Qn4Hffgw7H28oevju0-AWKXGcE/s1600/P1050612.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well you get the idea. Of course the flight attendant on
Elizabeth’s flight back from Boston was also something special—after yelling at
the passengers about various things she started complaining about how none of
the glassware had been washed and that the glasses were too small anyway. Then
she served wine in the large plastic glasses meant for water. They were full.
No one asked for seconds. When Elizabeth finally rolled home she came over to
see me immediately because she missed me—but then she sobered up.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">But we Hounds are something special on the ground too. It’s
why everyone loves us—except of course the humans whom we put on involuntary
diets and who have to repair moonscaped yards, replace chewed up fences and buy
lots of new underwear. Also new couches. I myself am special in so many ways
that it is not possible to enumerate them all.<span>
</span>For instance, I am trilingual—I know how to not listen to my humans in
English, Hungarian and French! </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGoS3IBMf10n_xm-kj5SpE3u6vD4nt6cMNPNiUZJWR5g0PaIiDs7MIZFR5AQaPXtHwhwnW0Lz-nggonDvqJaL9sOl9XR-NBRXPETgQAz1jHGLlAhUNr-D5kimHHJ13VFJcFcYZ8DC68U/s1600/IMG_20140604_191432.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXGoS3IBMf10n_xm-kj5SpE3u6vD4nt6cMNPNiUZJWR5g0PaIiDs7MIZFR5AQaPXtHwhwnW0Lz-nggonDvqJaL9sOl9XR-NBRXPETgQAz1jHGLlAhUNr-D5kimHHJ13VFJcFcYZ8DC68U/s1600/IMG_20140604_191432.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>So in other news, when I entered Elizabeth’s apartment after
our walk yesterday, my toy pile was missing! (There is a very good reason that
I inventory it every day).<span> </span>But a
completely missing toy pile can only mean one thing—a visit from Pluto, my
French bulldog buddy. Sure enough, Elizabeth disappeared and came back with the
little fellow! It was delightful (except for the fact that I had to be walked
on the heinous gentle leader because Maria was walking me and owing to the fact
that she hadn’t slept the night before, she somehow felt that I might take
advantage of her if I were on my harness. Moi?).<span> </span>I really like Pluto and I am sure the
neighbors that I bay awake when he and I meet on early morning walks like him
too!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
Well, I think I will leave it there for this week.<span> </span>I have to go help Elizabeth find something to
wear in a tony Tuscan resort. Something in black and tan perhaps…</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, something special (and painful) in your lap</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeM_J25Yo2P5ScElIo1bfgUd-H8t7DpYbbWRtZMAv6dXxYrnLG3eovb5gd1Fnjxeudw4RP7R3wc6TIRh99pt69WGwGSMJilcY-Ia3rgbyo2eVjIig5dXcxffYHlgkiWif0GpAcpo4FFk/s1600/IMG_20140606_144529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeM_J25Yo2P5ScElIo1bfgUd-H8t7DpYbbWRtZMAv6dXxYrnLG3eovb5gd1Fnjxeudw4RP7R3wc6TIRh99pt69WGwGSMJilcY-Ia3rgbyo2eVjIig5dXcxffYHlgkiWif0GpAcpo4FFk/s1600/IMG_20140606_144529.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-19214385332959140712014-05-16T18:46:00.004-04:002014-05-16T18:46:40.827-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #349<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KXbqn83QnB8qvAlZlYLn9E_zN8BilENQsA8zg296UGLsRSBdyjvaaR4s8cBjYCAD9zuIu0zHo2ZT5zV2CXyMPFVFsVj-iiaPqYOa9g76aVP54owrOZwDz0DVA1y6TEcfMIu3VNKujRo/s1600/P1050595.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KXbqn83QnB8qvAlZlYLn9E_zN8BilENQsA8zg296UGLsRSBdyjvaaR4s8cBjYCAD9zuIu0zHo2ZT5zV2CXyMPFVFsVj-iiaPqYOa9g76aVP54owrOZwDz0DVA1y6TEcfMIu3VNKujRo/s1600/P1050595.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_7H7NDQkzmbzVedWV2P8Dx1sOcSiWpNAhCEJ3g_622u7-TdYhbPZVjQczWADitAC7GwbhiwNpCeHYVfSefT4tiXa00LBfHwiqcOSZM_LyP29z0S9YhaBqhtEpCHGI9Rk8cBnk9-ltyE/s1600/P1050552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #349</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>May 16, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, with a quick and dirty post
from a quick and (usually) dirty Hound.<span>
</span>And as usual I am sending this from the Wimsey Broadcast Booth high atop
the floor on Manhattan’s fabulous West Side where I live with my long suffering
human and am taken care of daily by her shorter, but more acutely suffering
friend, Elizabeth.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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Elizabeth, who has had her snout buried in the work that she brought home from
Switzerland somehow found the time to bathe me yesterday.<span> </span>On the plus side I will soon be stinky again
but she won’t have any of the turkey that she had to feed me back again (at
least not in its original form).<span> </span>And for
yesterday’s bath bribe-a-thon I instituted my version of the garbage in,
garbage out rule and not only refused to get in the tub without quantities of
turkey but also refused to get out without the same being offered. Normally as
soon as I am untied from the ceramic soap dispenser that keeps me from fleeing,
I exit the tub with great celerity.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span></span>But
yesterday it occurred to me that Elizabeth actually wanted me to exit the tub
and Wimsey’s Rules clearly state that any action that is desired by humans, no
matter how much it is also desired by Hound, must be bought and paid for
accordingly.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span> </span>So Elizabeth stood aside
and waited for The Great Exit and was stunned instead when faced with an
immobile, cement block Hound staring fixedly at the package of turkey in her
hand.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39-5GeBzSO2977E7nZYyZ0Wccu_-W2UqVMJTfHtnvPVlOg15-TbtNnsgK98-2ZnPD5rNIs1OB2TWX-8GfR9UU6wRIB0Oxg2R-lo8f7vzAVFr-voJnss_y5-cd7yaTQFVcZHz5Ufg2SPE/s1600/P1050577.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39-5GeBzSO2977E7nZYyZ0Wccu_-W2UqVMJTfHtnvPVlOg15-TbtNnsgK98-2ZnPD5rNIs1OB2TWX-8GfR9UU6wRIB0Oxg2R-lo8f7vzAVFr-voJnss_y5-cd7yaTQFVcZHz5Ufg2SPE/s1600/P1050577.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a> </span>This makes a fine addition to my
other obnoxious bath time habit of refusing to shake whist in the tub
surrounded by tile and electing to shake when out of the tub surrounded by fur-
absorbing walls, ceilings and humans. I do make one exception—I shake as soon as
I am fully lathered up, preferably when Elizabeth is bending over me so she can
experience firsthand the taste and smell of the fancy shampoo she buys me.</span></span></div>
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Grand Gesture-- like eating the couch—but prefer instead that life with me be
aggravation by a thousand cuts. Like on our early evening walks together when
Maria will say to Elizabeth “I don’t want to go down to the river tonight,” and
twenty minutes later we are down by the river.<span>
</span>Or when Maria has to sleep on the couch because I have not left any
place for her on the bed and have turned into 130lbs of impossible to move dead
weight. Or when I see one of my humans preparing to walk me and immediately
ascend the couch (at home) or the futon (at Elizabeth’s place) and must be
bribed off with turkey or a desirable snack so that my harness can be put on.
And if one of my humans turns their back for a second, I ascend again and have
to be bribed off again. Elizabeth thinks this is hilarious and proof that I
actually possess a few neurons. But Maria just glares at her and asks, “Who
taught him that, I wonder?” Or when I have to be scratched into slumber
otherwise I will lick my toe—the scratching somehow miraculously removing the
desire to lick it. And then there is the fact that not only do I not permit
Maria to put ointment on my toe, clean my ears or put drops in them, brush my
teeth or apply my eye ointment, I don’t even permit her to be in the same room
while Elizabeth does it. She has to hide in the bedroom.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynhT1hAtzcyIfDAFywpji9Vc-3DGFE5HHnyO6o3PFRV_yiiR44o1kjA6FTe1eUakSNuPBmWduIngHf-Xnf_8pkIJLuWKGm4o-ayx3vXCoIDN5t1AwUegTKtlLNXntG0N2M8wbkWT__bk/s1600/P1050570.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynhT1hAtzcyIfDAFywpji9Vc-3DGFE5HHnyO6o3PFRV_yiiR44o1kjA6FTe1eUakSNuPBmWduIngHf-Xnf_8pkIJLuWKGm4o-ayx3vXCoIDN5t1AwUegTKtlLNXntG0N2M8wbkWT__bk/s1600/P1050570.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And of course life with me is very educational.<span> </span>My humans have to learn how to talk about me
in many different languages. Elizabeth speaks no Spanish except to tell people
thing like<span> </span>“be careful of the drool” and
Maria, whose parents are Hungarian is taking private lessons to improve her
skills and all her essays are about me as are her forays into conversational
Hungarian. My humans also have to make lightening fast calculations to tell
people how much I weigh or how much I eat in kilos or stone and they have to
rigorously apply the scientific method to form a hypothesis about where I would
like to be scratched and then conduct the experiment. If they do not scratch me
in the place in which I desire to be scratched, I thwack them with my giant,
bear claw. They must then reformulate the hypothesis and try again until they
find the right spot.<span> </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXq63Lg9QtzQPj5zdC9R6vfEnTFDndFGRPD7ZS_3_HqMBBm16VxaC437PO9WspZsrsUfJYydTtCt85MjBlS7rDz1WSpFn06ELE673KbXQHfU2HBsnJ7fsCPQucOKDBkMG2em1y0_FrbvY/s1600/P1050594.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXq63Lg9QtzQPj5zdC9R6vfEnTFDndFGRPD7ZS_3_HqMBBm16VxaC437PO9WspZsrsUfJYydTtCt85MjBlS7rDz1WSpFn06ELE673KbXQHfU2HBsnJ7fsCPQucOKDBkMG2em1y0_FrbvY/s1600/P1050594.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8VTvF665zANSS1ppUxDuMVEQmJ1qz6olZBC0V-HKADBqnd8MgK8ykTua0EQ0mhzFCS7T5oTyXMigkTBmzM_gIAmkyQHSqHG9hLwo5XR2GTga17mlcZUkUj3uc5zhkxLhRL5ZKDiahIw/s1600/P1050568.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8VTvF665zANSS1ppUxDuMVEQmJ1qz6olZBC0V-HKADBqnd8MgK8ykTua0EQ0mhzFCS7T5oTyXMigkTBmzM_gIAmkyQHSqHG9hLwo5XR2GTga17mlcZUkUj3uc5zhkxLhRL5ZKDiahIw/s1600/P1050568.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And of course, their knowledge of history must focus on how
Frankish knights brought these loud, smelly insubordinate dogs from the Middle
East to the poor monks at the monastery of St. Hubert who “perfected” them. I
love that phrase. Presumably the monks made us louder and smellier and more
insubordinate since the genes for these traits clearly must be linked (like the
genes for blond hair and blue eyes) to the olfactory prowess that they so
desired. Hence I am also a teaching tool for genetics.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">And my humans must know enough geography to
know that the monastery of St. Hubert is in the Ardennes, which although now
part of Belgium was, at the time of my ancestors’ arrival, not actually a
country but territory controlled by the Comte d’Artois.<span> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXq63Lg9QtzQPj5zdC9R6vfEnTFDndFGRPD7ZS_3_HqMBBm16VxaC437PO9WspZsrsUfJYydTtCt85MjBlS7rDz1WSpFn06ELE673KbXQHfU2HBsnJ7fsCPQucOKDBkMG2em1y0_FrbvY/s1600/P1050594.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXq63Lg9QtzQPj5zdC9R6vfEnTFDndFGRPD7ZS_3_HqMBBm16VxaC437PO9WspZsrsUfJYydTtCt85MjBlS7rDz1WSpFn06ELE673KbXQHfU2HBsnJ7fsCPQucOKDBkMG2em1y0_FrbvY/s1600/P1050594.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span>I have spoken often about how my humans have
an all too extensive knowledge of physics, particularly the equations dealing with
momentum, acceleration and dislocated shoulders. They also have learned that
the three states of matter are not “liquid, solid and gas” but “liquid, solid,
gas and drool.”<span> </span>Today Elizabeth found
out that drool can clog a kitchen sink. Who knew? A useful lesson in home
economics.<span> </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_7H7NDQkzmbzVedWV2P8Dx1sOcSiWpNAhCEJ3g_622u7-TdYhbPZVjQczWADitAC7GwbhiwNpCeHYVfSefT4tiXa00LBfHwiqcOSZM_LyP29z0S9YhaBqhtEpCHGI9Rk8cBnk9-ltyE/s1600/P1050552.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_7H7NDQkzmbzVedWV2P8Dx1sOcSiWpNAhCEJ3g_622u7-TdYhbPZVjQczWADitAC7GwbhiwNpCeHYVfSefT4tiXa00LBfHwiqcOSZM_LyP29z0S9YhaBqhtEpCHGI9Rk8cBnk9-ltyE/s1600/P1050552.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>OK, enough about me. Just kidding. There can never be enough
about me. But this week Elizabeth has been getting up on Swiss time, which is 6
hours ahead, but going to bed on New York time because she doesn’t get home
from my after work walk until 8.<span> </span>Do I
care? No. But this has meant that she is very groggy when she walks me in the
afternoon and a groggy human is a compliant human. Consequently I have visited
the Apple Store for scratching and baying (twice), The Boat Basin Café for
scratching and large Milkbone feeding (twice), Chase Manhattan Bank for cookies
and baying (once), Unleashed for merchandise sniffing, scratching and gourmet
cookie bar feeding (twice), Furry Paws for merchandise sniffing (once) and
Petland for merchandise sniffing and cookies (once).<span> </span>I love shopping! </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZf14dBG8xFlvNJqf9ynG6gmG40XN13-SoX5Zi-ZjNEeiz9o2mejVUITWYZ4v37kPjbFrrmIL8i9TdOqYWlMMq7TUjT12-fumb7FovxfKYiXQjm8OiX37NJGQ6xOeXs90coS-dNYgYYaY/s1600/P1050589.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZf14dBG8xFlvNJqf9ynG6gmG40XN13-SoX5Zi-ZjNEeiz9o2mejVUITWYZ4v37kPjbFrrmIL8i9TdOqYWlMMq7TUjT12-fumb7FovxfKYiXQjm8OiX37NJGQ6xOeXs90coS-dNYgYYaY/s1600/P1050589.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Elizabeth justifies this on the grounds that she is looking
for toys for her Swiss client’s cat --the huge New York catnip rat that she
bought was a big success.<span> </span>I also enjoy
shopping for cat toys (although I would prefer shopping for the actual cats)
but I notice that the people who design cat toys have very little
imagination—it’s all mouse, mouse, mouse, fish, mouse, mouse, mouse, etc. But
perhaps it is the cats that lack the imagination—another reason why we canines
are infinitely superior.<span> </span>My extensive
toy piles in both my humans’ apartments contain an amazing variety of creatures
in all sizes, shapes and colors, not to mention an abattoir’s worth of bones. I
mean I love a hedgehog as much as the next Hound, but if all my toys were hedgehogs
I am sure that I would feel an urgent need to add some variety--like the sofa
cushions.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6lMmr0MRVwStax2v5QDI85JItjskhfxyeHmMWt8BULnfSKefLW1sevyXnOXTOrkbuchkKyeODJfrOXZz_t7-KaTAX6gMeMsikWRt0DssB03_eMOATlPy8oAwpUZbKJdhUtRPuxx12HI/s1600/P1050574.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj6lMmr0MRVwStax2v5QDI85JItjskhfxyeHmMWt8BULnfSKefLW1sevyXnOXTOrkbuchkKyeODJfrOXZz_t7-KaTAX6gMeMsikWRt0DssB03_eMOATlPy8oAwpUZbKJdhUtRPuxx12HI/s1600/P1050574.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Anyway, all of this is by way of saying that nothing
completely ridiculous happened this week. Elizabeth pretty much has had her
butt parked in front of the computer and Maria is working late this month. Last
night she didn’t get out of work until after 10 which meant that I got to hang
out with Elizabeth and watch her drink gin to try to stay awake because she had
to walk me again. I love it when she looks at me and asks existential
questions, like ‘Why are you so awful?” just because I took all the towels she
draped over the furniture to keep it dry after my bath, bunched them up and
used them as a head pillow. Hey, but at least all my toys don’t look like mice!</span></span></div>
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out there whose Hounds do eat the couch and moonscape the lawn-- it could be
worse. Ask my humans.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Wimsey, the Wonderful (actual results may vary)</span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-26387501600978380492014-05-09T20:43:00.001-04:002014-05-09T20:43:00.874-04:00
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Entry #348</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>May 9, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey the Wicked coming to you
from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where I have just one thing (OK, maybe more
than one thing) to say: Hell hath no fury like a Hound whose human left him to
go to Switzerland! Even in the best of times I am a contender in the Awful
Hound Sweepstakes but this week I truly made my primary human Maria’s life a
misery. Her friend Elizabeth, who normally takes care of me during the day, took
off on a brief business trip to Switzerland on Saturday and thus was absent for
our Sunday walk together. This was so vexing that I refused to walk without her.
There is nothing Maria enjoys more than trying to walk a giant Hound who is
masquerading as a cement block. Then during the week I refused to let Maria
(who had to rush home during her lunch hour to walk me) apply my eardrops, eye
ointment or toe cream because that is Elizabeth’s job. And just in case Maria
was also thinking of escaping to Switzerland, I sat on her when she was at home
and refused to let her read or use the computer, lest she begin researching travel
destinations. Living with a Hound is difficult; living with a Displeased Hound
is impossible.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8Rr0PuSwqfeQvWIE3ajOI0f9OYZyYXyjOJZQO8HNbptmr4Ti75yhJFO00acSnxcRYBT-kymLj-SR9SDBcuAYvcr1IUohlC13IatCgvfhIIg_X0gnGcV2mjuJlmj1k-BIZqpnSAyMmnk/s1600/P1050546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8Rr0PuSwqfeQvWIE3ajOI0f9OYZyYXyjOJZQO8HNbptmr4Ti75yhJFO00acSnxcRYBT-kymLj-SR9SDBcuAYvcr1IUohlC13IatCgvfhIIg_X0gnGcV2mjuJlmj1k-BIZqpnSAyMmnk/s1600/P1050546.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally, after an eternity (Wednesday), Elizabeth arrived
back at her place, sleepless and jet lagged but Maria asked (insisted) that she
come out with us for my 6:30 walk. Elizabeth agreed and was hoping for a short
walk so I took us all on a long crepuscular perambulation in Central Park to
celebrate. <span> </span>It was a joyous occasion.
For me.<span> </span>It’s hard to know who was more pleased
to have Elizabeth back--Maria or me.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQixfo5yDD5nTMK70VNTd-OyEOZs0jSFqRrtPIE21jhTj7uYSkbutTemS7yLVYhbR9m3Yhk9a5l_BuNFQxs4eaqP_WRHh8aHmcDT3HeBaJSOvD5xOVZFSerycWr36_QIVg7mm2PIw-ppE/s1600/P1050550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQixfo5yDD5nTMK70VNTd-OyEOZs0jSFqRrtPIE21jhTj7uYSkbutTemS7yLVYhbR9m3Yhk9a5l_BuNFQxs4eaqP_WRHh8aHmcDT3HeBaJSOvD5xOVZFSerycWr36_QIVg7mm2PIw-ppE/s1600/P1050550.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So things are back to normal except that Elizabeth brought
home a pile of work that somehow involves sitting at the computer and writing
things that are not about me. I can’t imagine anything more pointless.<span> </span>And when I say that things are back to normal
I mean that for our Thursday afternoon walk I took Elizabeth to the Apple store
where I bayed loudly at everyone trying shop. When I speak, people listen.
Everyone suddenly froze and swiveled to see who or what was making that
delightful noise. Pretty soon the store is going to rethink having that nice
large dog bowl of water by the entrance.<span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, owing to the fact that it’s been a short week on
news, I thought we’d take another trip through my photo archives and examine
some of my obnoxious behavior in a little more depth:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wp53FhDzWITxp1KqvKoARfPlm-p4AT-I78MBU2pssb6R3J9gEPjrdyTw4ZiGavgFA4XtTPKKVoyR-rxkc9ycV-cpLWnnsc238wZikuvgExZ8beaNvql3OfC74KfMiVmZZXTQHp0nMdE/s1600/Rum%231boy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wp53FhDzWITxp1KqvKoARfPlm-p4AT-I78MBU2pssb6R3J9gEPjrdyTw4ZiGavgFA4XtTPKKVoyR-rxkc9ycV-cpLWnnsc238wZikuvgExZ8beaNvql3OfC74KfMiVmZZXTQHp0nMdE/s1600/Rum%231boy1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here is a picture of me as a puppy with one of my breeders,
Lily Tayson.<span> </span>It was probably the last
time I allowed myself to be stacked properly. <span> </span>Wasn’t I a cute little tyke? I was so small
that Maria had to carry me up and down the stairs. But then she realized that I
was 50 pounds and still demanding to be carried up and down the stairs.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here I am paying a visit to one of the Central Park snack
shops. Usually there are people sitting at those tables who get a surprise
visit from Wimsey, Food Inspector.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1dlGJ83XnRMlkvJzJ8g_mEg1tp6MwoJqRCr8jU-QQbPLjYRRVVEM1SKYOe8gcBAErOaMH6lhiuC88S1lHfVbd6ciSR4ELmrK59NjlcXkw9qYY_0D6PsS6HhJdpzuYCmECTCeHyMXGrk/s1600/DSCN1316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1dlGJ83XnRMlkvJzJ8g_mEg1tp6MwoJqRCr8jU-QQbPLjYRRVVEM1SKYOe8gcBAErOaMH6lhiuC88S1lHfVbd6ciSR4ELmrK59NjlcXkw9qYY_0D6PsS6HhJdpzuYCmECTCeHyMXGrk/s1600/DSCN1316.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUerRACg16HbQxY8CCIybpJdMSah5w-qh4uOIj5UblW2YdjTYHh2eFV0p0HSAwggp0uULtGhKn8_QYBS9PdiujjUMiin4U2mD0uro294yHqKy_4ugHNFxToCcl9txvmu3TWOgbc5nARM/s1600/DSCN1544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZUerRACg16HbQxY8CCIybpJdMSah5w-qh4uOIj5UblW2YdjTYHh2eFV0p0HSAwggp0uULtGhKn8_QYBS9PdiujjUMiin4U2mD0uro294yHqKy_4ugHNFxToCcl9txvmu3TWOgbc5nARM/s1600/DSCN1544.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRwr-Z7Jn2Wv7ZIEhxUZ54av7W-C9eKf9E5cywjleqSd8GKmQoVOdDHqzyNMsHPA8qtpkQpjY00HTgKRywzzdYtMH20qv4InfEHXrK1B8RlXWzu6AfWyR2Nv0TCW_-Jlmfa_jV1itHC8/s1600/DSCN1678.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRwr-Z7Jn2Wv7ZIEhxUZ54av7W-C9eKf9E5cywjleqSd8GKmQoVOdDHqzyNMsHPA8qtpkQpjY00HTgKRywzzdYtMH20qv4InfEHXrK1B8RlXWzu6AfWyR2Nv0TCW_-Jlmfa_jV1itHC8/s1600/DSCN1678.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And here we have a lovely troika of baying shots. My rule
about baying is that I never do it when humans want me to but always save it
all up for when I am not supposed to.<span> </span>There
are really an extraordinary number of people who stand and bay at me hoping
that I will reciprocate. <span> </span>I just look at
them like they are crazy. Because they are.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBh0ZdLX_pDS4HIDneQ4bBN1RdJU8qZReetEgvCu2Yr6mM4Q5H_xDpPPHdtxcEOhfYRYaTDlBMEI6YW4wY5tLJdNpV0tOfStvXtROP03bShi2LLRw2dbwijoot9_DCuGbZU3kZZHSB_I/s1600/DSCN2143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBh0ZdLX_pDS4HIDneQ4bBN1RdJU8qZReetEgvCu2Yr6mM4Q5H_xDpPPHdtxcEOhfYRYaTDlBMEI6YW4wY5tLJdNpV0tOfStvXtROP03bShi2LLRw2dbwijoot9_DCuGbZU3kZZHSB_I/s1600/DSCN2143.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here I am being fed some Grom gelato. I will not eat gelato
(or frozen yogurt) straight from the cup but demand that it be spoon fed to me.<span> </span>Being served by humans is a crucial element
to the enjoyment of food.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7M90X6HRaNHjT6mkz3OmxPTnO-r6fbbAVnCW8iWWAQ0bE49lSBFEOdUmT86vbyJIZFfnX4x8YYDrnw1E9j9S3YrZESyO_ya7w9t0CC9iGbf1hjfwh-quVoj8ii7rzyZV1_rlx7RqV8cs/s1600/DSCN2200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7M90X6HRaNHjT6mkz3OmxPTnO-r6fbbAVnCW8iWWAQ0bE49lSBFEOdUmT86vbyJIZFfnX4x8YYDrnw1E9j9S3YrZESyO_ya7w9t0CC9iGbf1hjfwh-quVoj8ii7rzyZV1_rlx7RqV8cs/s1600/DSCN2200.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And speaking of being served, this is me next to my private
water dish that my humans must carry in order to hydrate me to my satisfaction.<span> </span>I won’t drink from it if it is on the ground,
however—it must be held up for me at snout level. And when there is too much
drool in it, it must be emptied and refilled with fresh water. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYs0ExZBPo2u9LNQuwpvTXIOaNzYyKJZUyYpvQrZJKt96b6wSz9h4qKtuI2uftuUnitbnboIRuXPjr0gH4VrSzg9ZGl_ZfL9AwpgTO_dCkb54BAs3QfLBnhNFfeAFp48s_KnmDpQPAVE/s1600/Picture+017_8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYs0ExZBPo2u9LNQuwpvTXIOaNzYyKJZUyYpvQrZJKt96b6wSz9h4qKtuI2uftuUnitbnboIRuXPjr0gH4VrSzg9ZGl_ZfL9AwpgTO_dCkb54BAs3QfLBnhNFfeAFp48s_KnmDpQPAVE/s1600/Picture+017_8.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is a picture of me actually eating something that is
not being served to me---grass.<span> </span>As soon
as succulent grass appears in spring, I graze in a manner that would do any
bovine proud.<span> </span>It falls to my humans to
pull the stuff out the other end when it gets stuck.<span> </span>They love that.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_apJYLfct2lOfASLjCamsfjRdQ9wFK4I5Dupv1KY0CCivd_b1rCKEHHIoJ_0cWGGJINMr7CpfZ3enNR86b7JVDwyA7ueZX6I_87pZmXTUm35Snypa7Nx8ZaRPElbNGY887tnChIXTiA/s1600/Picture+034_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_apJYLfct2lOfASLjCamsfjRdQ9wFK4I5Dupv1KY0CCivd_b1rCKEHHIoJ_0cWGGJINMr7CpfZ3enNR86b7JVDwyA7ueZX6I_87pZmXTUm35Snypa7Nx8ZaRPElbNGY887tnChIXTiA/s1600/Picture+034_3.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfpFSG5g89hOdTXa0TqADzdZU5anLMn8O-2dBv4gh7H5LoYGoQsg6_5ePDm6jfi4xrYk6_Ux-MyJvlSXot9kJKx1SskT_POEB4I_VDhnKlar6Lo70mmHWvnEaQnxPKMDDIZopiCF-V-0/s1600/Picture+053_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfpFSG5g89hOdTXa0TqADzdZU5anLMn8O-2dBv4gh7H5LoYGoQsg6_5ePDm6jfi4xrYk6_Ux-MyJvlSXot9kJKx1SskT_POEB4I_VDhnKlar6Lo70mmHWvnEaQnxPKMDDIZopiCF-V-0/s1600/Picture+053_2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another couple of snack shop pics. I generally bay and carry
on quite a bit which generally results in somebody feeding me or my humans
luring me away with turkey or cookies or both.<span>
</span>You don’t ask, you don’t get.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is from my favorite road trip—a visit to Maria’s mother
in upstate New York and then a swing over to Michigan to visit one of my
breeders and my sister and her human.<span>
</span>Here we see a plate of these delightful cheesy things—Maria’s mother is
an excellent Hungarian cook and was delighted to have such an appreciative
guest. ---especially when I followed her around everywhere waiting for her to
disgorge goodies. You will of course notice that I am politely waiting to be
served. Also that all the furniture is covered in the piles of sheets that my
humans must tote about wherever we go. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And here I am auditing the contents of Maria’s mother’s
refrigerator to ensure the wholesomeness of its contents.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here I am in my rented Ford Explorer, the entire cargo space
of which was taken up with my stuff.<span> </span>My
humans were permitted two small carry-ons.<span>
</span>But no matter how large the car and regardless of the seat belt
contraption that I am hooked up to, I can still always execute a foray to the
front to supervise the driving.<span> </span>I also
find that the driver’s shoulder makes a comfy resting place for my head in
between gassy naps.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And this is me in Sand Lake. This is as far as I would go in
in spite of the summer heat.<span> </span>My humans
were hoping that I would swim because I am always trying to swim in the Lake in
Central Park. <span> </span>But that is because
swimming is not permitted in the Lake in Central Park.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And here I am at the beach on Lake Michigan with my breeder
in the background.<span> </span>I am baying because
my sister is there just out of camera range. I harbored incestuous intentions and
although I was consistently rebuffed I remained steadfast in my belief that
baying would help me achieve the desired result. I think she bit me on the
nose.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I will end with this picture. It is one of my favorites. It
says it all.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, that’s all for this truncated week. Next week our
wintry spring is going to turn into sultry summer so I am likely to be found
lounging in the air conditioning threatening to lick my toe unless my belly is
scratched.<span> </span>Elizabeth might even get some
work done. Or not.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wimsey, a picture perfect Hound</span></span></div>
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</span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-16854705484777937352014-04-25T20:28:00.002-04:002014-04-25T20:28:39.503-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #347<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHQNdd-akbsEh8sl0lj2JLi2mSDyVToM5Qro8iMeeNjux-mDEpSgMA2nUlTB4S85ABdD5950DTfC2rwTPvyyr78cjhmpwEtGPAQaCeaWmsd2aoF45dcZtNdNqxo6_p__7VLaBfhfyRr4/s1600/P1050508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHQNdd-akbsEh8sl0lj2JLi2mSDyVToM5Qro8iMeeNjux-mDEpSgMA2nUlTB4S85ABdD5950DTfC2rwTPvyyr78cjhmpwEtGPAQaCeaWmsd2aoF45dcZtNdNqxo6_p__7VLaBfhfyRr4/s1600/P1050508.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry #347</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>April 25, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, coming to you from here,
there and everywhere on Manhattan’s Upper West Side where the daffodils are
pooped upon and my humans are just plain pooped with all the work involved in the
care and feeding of me. My human Maria and I have been battling for possession
of her lap into which she wants to put her computer and into which I want to
put my tush; and her friend Elizabeth and I have been battling over the whole
concept of coming in at all from our afternoon walks together. Spring has
definitely sprung but it has still been too chilly for the massive yard work
clean up project that my humans intend to undertake and I intend to supervise.
We are all looking forward to it so stay tuned.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOZe4hu63zI8P1XXpQetOepxYFsID8nmLSIWn1okXrE_RVLHDGZQPmtYqdCQqYpAtRoPiReB9kf2L18NIS-a5R7AO1-qHT2kBQKYaL-aa04MAY7EWVdADyBsGy8rH0VU0Q0HgQdrN7R0/s1600/P1050515.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdOZe4hu63zI8P1XXpQetOepxYFsID8nmLSIWn1okXrE_RVLHDGZQPmtYqdCQqYpAtRoPiReB9kf2L18NIS-a5R7AO1-qHT2kBQKYaL-aa04MAY7EWVdADyBsGy8rH0VU0Q0HgQdrN7R0/s1600/P1050515.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well yesterday was apparently Feed Wimsey Day on the Upper
West Side.<span> </span>It was a beautiful day so I
naturally I decided that instead of going to Central Park where Elizabeth
wished to go I wanted to do some shopping instead. <span> </span>I took Elizabeth up to the northern most pet
shop on my shopping route, Little Creatures, on Amsterdam and 97<sup>th</sup>.<span> </span>Now this is a very small store that sells
some lovely high end food and snacks which Elizabeth and I were in the process
of investigating –--Elizabeth is always on the lookout for new snacks for me
and the benefit of shopping in a store is that she can actually see the size of
the snacks themselves.<span> </span>More than once a
bag of snacks bought online was found to contain snacks so miniscule as to be
beneath my gastronomic notice and they had to be donated to friends with more
appropriately sized critters.<span> </span>Anyway, as
I said, we were shopping when the nice lady behind the counter pulled out a
long tubular jerky type snack for me, which I greatly enjoyed.<span> </span>Next I became very attracted by a basket of
Merrick patties and a tripe flavored one was selected and offered to me prior
to purchase to ensure that it was pleasing enough for the Wimsey palate. The
other flavors were turkey and chicken which seemed a pointless purchase since I
get so much of the real thing. The tripe, by the way, was excellent and a
package was procured for my future snacking pleasure.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2oM0LH7fRzZk1f3kCFR_xCfSmMBcE61EEzUrREFk9WqycT3759nInWHn7U8-4ktjXo142hzkl4mr4pFiZG93LCY_xeEsBRvQlIjQ90sUz15dVI6hrezyJ3OTErT6IrnCdBe6KYOXFeM/s1600/P1050513.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq2oM0LH7fRzZk1f3kCFR_xCfSmMBcE61EEzUrREFk9WqycT3759nInWHn7U8-4ktjXo142hzkl4mr4pFiZG93LCY_xeEsBRvQlIjQ90sUz15dVI6hrezyJ3OTErT6IrnCdBe6KYOXFeM/s1600/P1050513.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Those culinary tidbits whet my appetite so I wished to head
over to Baked By Melissa for some cupcakes but was cruelly prevented by
Elizabeth who was determined to get us into some greenery-- in this case nearby
Riverside Park.<span> </span>On the way, however, we
ran into a human who is owned by an Irish Setter puppy of my acquaintance who
had just done some shopping and was pleased to offer me a handful of Milk Bone
snacks that she had just bought for her beast.<span>
</span>They were lovely but then we ran into the dog walker who cared for me
during the day when I was a puppy who was excited to have Stella and Chewy
patties for me (the quality of her snacks often leaves something to be desired.<span> </span>On the last few occasions the ones she proffered
failed to meet my exacting snack standards and were spat out with my accustomed
alacrity). We also met the usual gang of random Hound petters and scratchers,
but meeting Hound feeders is preferred when one is peckish.<span> </span><span> </span>Once
in the park I lobbied hard to visit the Boat Basin Café (and their basket of
large milk bones) but as we had already hit the two-hour mark this was deemed
excessive. Instead I parked myself on a bench and made Elizabeth scratch me
whilst I digested the afternoon’s takings.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lHG1m7MkaYJmlWZngbQJ3Ts8KpwkUrlf4c6hOggT8_YZLVxzJNxMUuXju6ts5kwxmqFFuMMBfq7K8jJJ8kqhV38dCvq2rIXLivxeb1Z9Bfm1e7zbOSLNYdkZ9X89LkeJJbev_Oh2XnQ/s1600/P1050522.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lHG1m7MkaYJmlWZngbQJ3Ts8KpwkUrlf4c6hOggT8_YZLVxzJNxMUuXju6ts5kwxmqFFuMMBfq7K8jJJ8kqhV38dCvq2rIXLivxeb1Z9Bfm1e7zbOSLNYdkZ9X89LkeJJbev_Oh2XnQ/s1600/P1050522.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>And speaking of digesting, I have miraculously found a new
way to extort turkey before my afternoon walk.<span>
</span>As those of you who read this blog know, I must be bribed off the bed
and onto the Tribute Couch with turkey and then I must be further bribed off
the Tribute Couch and into my harness with even more turkey. But one can really
never have enough turkey so this week I discovered that if I nibble my kibble
prior to my afternoon walk (I free feed but like to eat after a walk, not
before, and if I eat before my walk it has to be delayed for an hour on account
of bloat issues) Elizabeth shrieks “ No, Wimsey, no!” at me and lures me away
with a fistful of turkey.<span> </span>Apparently she
does not have a spare hour to sit with me on the Tribute Couch and watch me
digest. What can I say? No matter how skilled the Hound there is always
something new to learn (except of course those things relating to obeying
obedience commands or even more horrifying, doing people- pleasing tricks).</span></span></div>
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night when Maria came over to Elizabeth’s after work to retrieve me so we could
all go on our early evening walk I decided to pay an unusual, late visit to my
favorite pet store, Unleashed.<span> </span>(Since
this is a regular stop on my afternoon walk, Maria seldom has the pleasure of
seeing me in action there). I marched into the store and immediately bayed
loudly at the woman behind the counter to give me a cookie from the cookie bar.<span> </span>The Unleashed staff is well trained and the
lady immediately stopped what she was doing to comply with my “request” much to
the amusement of all the people in the store. To my humans, not so much.<span> </span>There was a lot of “Really, Wimsey,
really’s?” and reminding each other that I am a gift. A very loud gift.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOlbWyv81Kl_-XPjgGZJ6vL3CW2ij3XQQsJTOGXtcfrtBG_qMY8gzWSKjru9Io9MGWtdjTFyEJwMpzyqXCWA0VdSUFajb_JyQkiikIOUlgUgFxwUjo-TfAxx9BoeGkSCyhmpzthfwg9g/s1600/P1050541.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTOlbWyv81Kl_-XPjgGZJ6vL3CW2ij3XQQsJTOGXtcfrtBG_qMY8gzWSKjru9Io9MGWtdjTFyEJwMpzyqXCWA0VdSUFajb_JyQkiikIOUlgUgFxwUjo-TfAxx9BoeGkSCyhmpzthfwg9g/s1600/P1050541.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Well preparations for Elizabeth’s quick business trip to
Geneva proceed apace—she is leaving a week from Saturday and will be gone for a
few days which means that Maria will have to spend her lunch hour walking me.
This is a major inconvenience for me especially since the short duration of the
trip means that Elizabeth probably won’t have the time to shop in toney Swiss
pet shops for a gift (the kind that you would actually want, as opposed to me).
But I am still hoping that they sell cheese in duty free. With enough cheese I
can produce some amazing smells. Also, Elizabeth’s new trip clothes have
arrived from the personal shopper. I like this idea of the personal shopper and
think that there should be one for Hound-oriented clothes:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvo9xGoqvuEzh3CXp2aASLMBV4w1jEdHyPNInn-eggrEma_zxPWdW5e18yxksrU4Uv-3IfG9fd9H5AvjfpOIS-sOYHmU7UxxO6uxnWFKph8Ub_tF8Ks3zLabKmmB3Ci9Q_iY9C6lYx540/s1600/P1050519.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvo9xGoqvuEzh3CXp2aASLMBV4w1jEdHyPNInn-eggrEma_zxPWdW5e18yxksrU4Uv-3IfG9fd9H5AvjfpOIS-sOYHmU7UxxO6uxnWFKph8Ub_tF8Ks3zLabKmmB3Ci9Q_iY9C6lYx540/s1600/P1050519.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Hounds R Us</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound Personal
Shopper:</b> Hello and welcome to Hounds R Us, a store designed with the
special needs of the Hound shopper in mind.<span>
</span>What is your style?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Customer:</b> I
prefer body conscious clothing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound Personal
Shopper:</b> Excellent. We have a wide selection, except that the body that you
will be conscious of is not yours but your Hound’s.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Customer:</b><span> </span>Does that mean that the clothes are Hound
shaped?</span></span></div>
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Shopper:</b> No. It means that the clothes are cut such that there is ample
room for you to bend over freely to scratch your Hound, or collect his poop, or
take a roast chicken out of his mouth without ripping, tearing or giving the
neighborhood a show. Now what colors do you prefer?</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkgikVUUEWjqxhjEiYTaLsXah5of1n4ksEDxTunS0Mks_SoDMoiyh6rGQmQahebanr_KwvslLzk7Eu5MN48ioCSqgieEXNDmvvdwadMjk64f8ZOO4nBobxtNM3nbf3pna9OsHwouV7m4/s1600/P1050538.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkgikVUUEWjqxhjEiYTaLsXah5of1n4ksEDxTunS0Mks_SoDMoiyh6rGQmQahebanr_KwvslLzk7Eu5MN48ioCSqgieEXNDmvvdwadMjk64f8ZOO4nBobxtNM3nbf3pna9OsHwouV7m4/s1600/P1050538.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Customer:</b> Well I
like jewel tones.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound Personal
Shopper:</b><span> </span>Well unfortunately our
clothing comes in black and tan, red, liver and liver and tan. And for humans
whose animals have a bit of Talbot Hound in their background we offer some
patterns with a little white on the chest. That way you never look like you are
wearing your Hound, even though you always are.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Customer:</b> Sounds lovely.
How about fabrics? Something washable would be nice—the dry cleaner is always
complaining about what my clothes do to his equipment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound Personal
Shopper</b>: We have some lovely vinyls, plastics, rubbers, nylons, latexes and
our new premium Gore-Tex line. No need ever to experience those embarrassing or
uncomfortable wet spots. And whether your Hound drags you or topples you in a
mud puddle, compost heap or just regular dirt, clean up is a breeze. And
needless to say, all our fabrics are stench resistant so people won’t need to
move away from you in movie theaters or buses.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEWNUnUab_jOcbGXheUovia4joDYX4vY0hCa9thXArEuE0imwU5HrWidjjt9huQmXQzdNnpP7p9m0I5qPwzb9V35shAZSLnPcjm9xIpZjN2KrdmhbX-wSyh0zNUGQjki3BMIHhtMFjvA/s1600/P1050524.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEWNUnUab_jOcbGXheUovia4joDYX4vY0hCa9thXArEuE0imwU5HrWidjjt9huQmXQzdNnpP7p9m0I5qPwzb9V35shAZSLnPcjm9xIpZjN2KrdmhbX-wSyh0zNUGQjki3BMIHhtMFjvA/s1600/P1050524.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Customer:</b> How
about shoes and purses?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound Personal
Shopper</b>: We have a wide selection of high traction footwear with either cleats
or spikes, and XL fanny packs that enable you to hold all the things that your
Hound may need on a walk, including extra space for his snack assortment and a
waterproof pouch for drool rags to offer the passersby that he slimes. <span> </span>All our clothing also comes with a
multiplicity of pockets for those little extras, like the purchases your Hound makes
in pet shops. In addition, we have a line of fashion water canteens with
detachable bowls to keep your Hound well hydrated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Customer:</b> That
sounds great! It will be nice not to have to wear those fishing vests all the
time. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Hound Personal
Shopper</b>: Everyone says that, but we carry those too.<span> </span>We also have some beautiful clothing for your
Hound in colors complementary to his fur and in an assortment of luxury wools,
cottons, leathers and silks.<span> </span>It is
important after all for your Hound to look his best.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1FXEIU8JGa55xauCtqZlZLEQii81JHXCxeX96gkGhS7Emye-2j1bDj7twwk-S_yhR7mYI4_psI1qciK89bzDUbo_5IOlo5WdO4Lb4TLfKm5kh6NrgQSYqvRzB3WwP-Gzeepvo9WGrXKc/s1600/P1050531.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1FXEIU8JGa55xauCtqZlZLEQii81JHXCxeX96gkGhS7Emye-2j1bDj7twwk-S_yhR7mYI4_psI1qciK89bzDUbo_5IOlo5WdO4Lb4TLfKm5kh6NrgQSYqvRzB3WwP-Gzeepvo9WGrXKc/s1600/P1050531.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>But meanwhile all Elizabeth’s nice new clothes are encased
in plastic and in a garment bag and hidden away in the closet so I barely got a
sniff in.<span> </span>And for those of you who think
that Elizabeth is being overly cautious, I will point out that this week she
found kibble in the refrigerator tucked away in the closed vegetable bin.<span> </span>Where there is a Hound, there is a way. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, I think that I will leave it there for this week.
Both humans are hard at work on my art e- book and there are only so many times
that they can fob me off with bully sticks. And in spite of all my lengthy
walks this week I have to once again apologize for the lack of pictures—Elizabeth
claims that she is too busy enjoying her time out with me (as if) to take
pictures.<span> </span>I claim she is lazy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Until next time,</span></span></div>
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Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7257632014578413949.post-15077370546598913192014-04-18T21:15:00.002-04:002014-04-18T21:15:22.675-04:00Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #346<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Entry<span> </span>#346</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><i>April 18, 2014</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hello Everyone, it’s me Wimsey, coming to you from
Manhattan’s Upper West Side where the annoyingly late arrival of spring has
been dwarfed by the annoyances of my humans’ Hound un-friendly schedules.<span> </span>My primary human Maria has been working late
again and had a tummy bug that kept her from my Sunday walk, my secondary human
Elizabeth had two days of conferences (hence short afternoon walks) and a gig
taking a dog to the ASPCA’s annual charity ball (AWOL for my evening walk). I
do not like to have my schedule disrupted and it is not only that I know that I
am owed 4 pieces of duck heart and not 3 pieces of duck heart before I permit
myself to be leashed up, I also know when there are the wrong number of humans
present for my walk. And when that happens I simply refuse to walk and stare
fixedly at the abode of the errant human in full expectation that my stern
glare will cause her to appear. The only good disruption is that Elizabeth’s
camera finally packed it in so I was annoyed considerably less than usual with
picture taking these last couple of weeks.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUtSRJX_3Tb-0dpG5wrWDHVbhi_z8KczXAbRGwgDEWsLGGiwkYaIg6J3xigclgjWXfEW-S_eGlttC2Io9c5UPNxjal14n3lqMAuC2ndGwOvTRBxn6ntjzfrL9Vvk2gL6MsXRYDWLtC70/s1600/IMG_20140418_154242.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUtSRJX_3Tb-0dpG5wrWDHVbhi_z8KczXAbRGwgDEWsLGGiwkYaIg6J3xigclgjWXfEW-S_eGlttC2Io9c5UPNxjal14n3lqMAuC2ndGwOvTRBxn6ntjzfrL9Vvk2gL6MsXRYDWLtC70/s1600/IMG_20140418_154242.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>However Elizabeth is in the doghouse as she is planning on
taking off for a business trip to Geneva at the beginning of May which
displeases me greatly. I expect a cheese at least as in compensation.<span> </span>She has also come to the realization that the
only French she speaks these days is Hound French and she can synthesize such
gems as “Be careful of the drool!” and “ Be careful he will steal your water
bottle!” And “Yes he makes that noise a lot.” Consequently she has been
speaking to me in French to practice, but fortunately I don’t listen to her in
that language either. Being a Chien de St. Hubert means that I am bilingually
disobedient.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Well blogging has been difficult these days because the
computers are being monopolized for the preparation of my art book (coming soon
to you on Amazon!) </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So I will be unaccustomedly brief:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBzDvpImf2_upf2AIDGyCP3hQjCx1JSUPYK-8LgepnPXleIhQ2H3WZjoUbqcZMhjJaUZgScrWOS3qPPp9_GC7ExLXKwd5JWtNyqtR4OFMQSlgFP5hhGIGd0RYg372xI6yS8u-nVCh4FU/s1600/IMG_20140413_140752.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBzDvpImf2_upf2AIDGyCP3hQjCx1JSUPYK-8LgepnPXleIhQ2H3WZjoUbqcZMhjJaUZgScrWOS3qPPp9_GC7ExLXKwd5JWtNyqtR4OFMQSlgFP5hhGIGd0RYg372xI6yS8u-nVCh4FU/s1600/IMG_20140413_140752.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Wimsey Headline News</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- I managed to “persuade” (read coerce) Elizabeth to let me
get a drink from the bowl at the Apple store, although I was less interested in
the water than in “persuading” the store greeter to scratch me while I leaned
on him to deposit hair and slime.<span> </span>Sadly
I had to be summarily removed from the store for baying at the
merchandise.<span> </span>The acoustics were fabulous
and I disrupted the entire store!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">-During the two days that we had of actual warm weather I
was able to get into the back yard to begin eating the plants. That is until
the couple who have the 4<sup>th</sup> floor balcony overlooking the yard
starting calling my name and I started calling theirs. The yard is surrounded
on all sides by buildings, so whereas the acoustics were not as good as in the
Apple store, I am sure that they were sufficient to disrupt anyone trying to
enjoy a peaceful afternoon at home.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa_ukmagmGbjCqOOqxr6yX7rAnNEQbwKNvPhdLt04MtsuOLRmZF1-kzblSjA3ZLSdIDQBpqpmIIW5C7aaCb47DCMHr_0R4HRnc3AKxxYAfMTO2w8ORDJe_VUjsy1Ao71bhsOdwFqBRY8/s1600/IMG_20140418_160729.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAa_ukmagmGbjCqOOqxr6yX7rAnNEQbwKNvPhdLt04MtsuOLRmZF1-kzblSjA3ZLSdIDQBpqpmIIW5C7aaCb47DCMHr_0R4HRnc3AKxxYAfMTO2w8ORDJe_VUjsy1Ao71bhsOdwFqBRY8/s1600/IMG_20140418_160729.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>-Although the weather turned cold again the daffodils in
Riverside Park have emerged! This means my morning walks with Maria have turned
into a contest of wills over the matter of my pooping on them.<span> </span>It’s a wonderful way to get warmed up for the
rest of the day’s contest of wills.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Even though Maria is home for a four day Easter holiday
and Elizabeth was hoping for her own four day Easter holiday (from me) she
still has to come over because I won’t let Maria put ointment in my eyes.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zzyPMBjKrNzMYnjg9b_vDDVKbM3ylETeP0WsWgxgtRQfGJW47BASyv6pD5Elz8Z0TBJKmizHNbqhw-qNq9feXbA7Vk29tqoCpzTVO6Hc1WgU-R0NPaYCxa4Pj303chKRHJ450bLJMr8/s1600/IMG_20140418_164617.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5zzyPMBjKrNzMYnjg9b_vDDVKbM3ylETeP0WsWgxgtRQfGJW47BASyv6pD5Elz8Z0TBJKmizHNbqhw-qNq9feXbA7Vk29tqoCpzTVO6Hc1WgU-R0NPaYCxa4Pj303chKRHJ450bLJMr8/s1600/IMG_20140418_164617.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>-I engaged in a major flap-a-thon last night which resulted
in a major vet visit today. Apparently my right ear is infected so while the
gunk is being cultured I have to have drops put in.<span> </span>See above.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">So now let us return to examine a few more photos relating
to <b>My Obnoxious Hound Behavior:</b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2QfvqE5eFy2Zf9eXRN3u4Qw04sJ2WWi14NWpPCu0P3s5Ci4eQ2bdoMS7Lguo0SjkkG8Ff4IohgDrZQfRL4LPc9YwGJYvAbkws3HBtTDLlO4MeNNJ_1rfehJ3n9m3jq7Cs98F_iE73rs/s1600/DSCN0421.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS2QfvqE5eFy2Zf9eXRN3u4Qw04sJ2WWi14NWpPCu0P3s5Ci4eQ2bdoMS7Lguo0SjkkG8Ff4IohgDrZQfRL4LPc9YwGJYvAbkws3HBtTDLlO4MeNNJ_1rfehJ3n9m3jq7Cs98F_iE73rs/s1600/DSCN0421.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>OK, so maybe sitting with my bum perched on the back of a
park bench is not exactly obnoxious but the fact that I ascend park benches to
delay the progress of a homeward walk and then demand to be fed, is.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjoRxnsr9Zt7S3Op02REkHJF8ieS_-227te-C4fFS9RgKy-iNPIcVjA17ppoDjNnoJ4w90mbOugn8UxigalkngQraQDZ7CIX8tcqG7Y10umNSB0zLCrAR6KlPtURFnbQWj2JfyzK9-drc/s1600/DSCN0433.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjoRxnsr9Zt7S3Op02REkHJF8ieS_-227te-C4fFS9RgKy-iNPIcVjA17ppoDjNnoJ4w90mbOugn8UxigalkngQraQDZ7CIX8tcqG7Y10umNSB0zLCrAR6KlPtURFnbQWj2JfyzK9-drc/s1600/DSCN0433.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>So this is me in the squad room of the 20<sup>th</sup>
precinct with the captain.<span> </span>Why I am I
there? Because I carried on so much and so loudly outside the precinct that the
captain invited me in to shut me up. It was hard to get a picture because of
all the ecstatic wiggling (I used to regularly drag my humans into the station
house so I could indulge my obsession with greeting policemen).</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdBJYeMUsRYAoPIpwOMMlG1g83S7BnPTpPc4Z2vssee380tnFmbaUS5FNd8CcwpBPEMDWVnUTAvDRS_jyeJaH4P_bkcbgoQH3MoVIsa0z5JUK4q3JBT7s-hq9zpUe401TkC-8x7ya6pM/s1600/DSCN0757.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdBJYeMUsRYAoPIpwOMMlG1g83S7BnPTpPc4Z2vssee380tnFmbaUS5FNd8CcwpBPEMDWVnUTAvDRS_jyeJaH4P_bkcbgoQH3MoVIsa0z5JUK4q3JBT7s-hq9zpUe401TkC-8x7ya6pM/s1600/DSCN0757.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>As you can see, this is New York’s Houndiest keeping close
tabs on New York’s Finest.<span> </span>If you look
closely, you will notice that Officer Wendt is baying at me—something that some
of the officers liked to do on the police car bullhorn when they spotted me on
the street.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhkhicFyiclOyFXpS4Gzg0i3XKf3n0I2TGLmWYDB2HiNlP0S3CdSzhYJ16ds2dnZZJs8mGH8mbFg-qsdrMnczdXezcjHQjZdgPaPCdGSVNa90z0CRsLAASWTCdMj7bL1i-GZ7WCl_J-4/s1600/DSCN0589.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhkhicFyiclOyFXpS4Gzg0i3XKf3n0I2TGLmWYDB2HiNlP0S3CdSzhYJ16ds2dnZZJs8mGH8mbFg-qsdrMnczdXezcjHQjZdgPaPCdGSVNa90z0CRsLAASWTCdMj7bL1i-GZ7WCl_J-4/s1600/DSCN0589.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>What’s this?<span> </span>I threw
myself down on a city street in midtown to demand that (at least) one of these
admirers rub my belly! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And a follow up shot of me calling out to someone else for
attention. Or perhaps I just wanted to visit that shop.<span> </span>There are so many reasons for me to bay that
I lose track.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MCjQz3oi9gutH3gedTFuFeyqXqze9davgicRRsU474l7OhZG1ajMfLZrOpPdwxGk1MNi5gvYuVY91N5JUzxYvEldrLamFj54gQlRij3gkxwwojlF6u49tgQXzqgU5StlrXV7r6FHBsE/s1600/035_AKC_NY09_Promo1_MingassonMA25582315-0002.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MCjQz3oi9gutH3gedTFuFeyqXqze9davgicRRsU474l7OhZG1ajMfLZrOpPdwxGk1MNi5gvYuVY91N5JUzxYvEldrLamFj54gQlRij3gkxwwojlF6u49tgQXzqgU5StlrXV7r6FHBsE/s1600/035_AKC_NY09_Promo1_MingassonMA25582315-0002.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And speaking of which, isn’t this a lovely close-up?<span> </span>This was taken by an AKC photographer when I
was doing a pre-Westminster media meet and greet and Meet the Breeds event
opposite Madison Square Garden.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBAARaanHjqZsTusojRYAo3TYAmbdX2W7qppwmICRq1khKdHgue9nDN_Xr-i1I-KL0InSN8hfXZqm_SOfA3vKYrmra8YZkQ70zj6xmOCGaqqxVJddxhl3BE_l0pr3qbZmjeo-Fv2uFwM/s1600/DSCN0715.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBAARaanHjqZsTusojRYAo3TYAmbdX2W7qppwmICRq1khKdHgue9nDN_Xr-i1I-KL0InSN8hfXZqm_SOfA3vKYrmra8YZkQ70zj6xmOCGaqqxVJddxhl3BE_l0pr3qbZmjeo-Fv2uFwM/s1600/DSCN0715.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>So why am I baying at this guy? Do you notice how his hands
are behind his back? I will give you a hint of what he’s got back there:
W_<span> </span>_ _ R<span> </span>B_ T _ _ E.<span> </span>He was reluctant to fork it over owing to
the fact that he felt it was more important for him to stay hydrated than for
me to have some fun.<span> </span>Humans can be so
cruel.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoWXHAcAs0J_DMRSMew03RnJkZOFch0_ow-cs9fgBLprUyJ7tyI1r6xkgV3q3rutdTGe6kVUXs5S_JdysyD7h2shh3HvB8yVYMjhS3pF-2QrqhuhZDXVmhWsDcaAhqDaULNHvZxzFrWE/s1600/DSCN0749.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSoWXHAcAs0J_DMRSMew03RnJkZOFch0_ow-cs9fgBLprUyJ7tyI1r6xkgV3q3rutdTGe6kVUXs5S_JdysyD7h2shh3HvB8yVYMjhS3pF-2QrqhuhZDXVmhWsDcaAhqDaULNHvZxzFrWE/s1600/DSCN0749.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>But then again, not always. Here I am with a water bottle
that was most likely “donated.”</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_I5oMc5rjAkSbqW6-LTSAsEOJAStk0prAGQjfUD7oAS0886-mk1KNsuWAe5cVMeToUdqhG3rziFLctGijrK-ycjSpsT2sAWJitRa7BRrHNdfA0F9dCb5mjxRNnv-Eib6tqJ1khaprQA/s1600/DSCN0841.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin_I5oMc5rjAkSbqW6-LTSAsEOJAStk0prAGQjfUD7oAS0886-mk1KNsuWAe5cVMeToUdqhG3rziFLctGijrK-ycjSpsT2sAWJitRa7BRrHNdfA0F9dCb5mjxRNnv-Eib6tqJ1khaprQA/s1600/DSCN0841.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>With regard to baying, I have observed that those who don’t
run away screaming in terror, give me stuff.<span>
</span>Here is the pitch….</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3iKk_OqiuG16MM58iJ13sPGU0C2Do0Vgf_nGQfSGg2v69YyRh4laNRINRVf8pB6_-g_DCu7SVkUJKpaEVXSjzKFaC0kJo3c29RSIOjJLkpRrUT_p4BubOkFcClrqPH34aUZtDyqgU5s/s1600/DSCN0840.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD3iKk_OqiuG16MM58iJ13sPGU0C2Do0Vgf_nGQfSGg2v69YyRh4laNRINRVf8pB6_-g_DCu7SVkUJKpaEVXSjzKFaC0kJo3c29RSIOjJLkpRrUT_p4BubOkFcClrqPH34aUZtDyqgU5s/s1600/DSCN0840.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>And the delivery.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA53qSNmZAMbNZxCYM7K7RSLUyEN7fBN9YY95b-X7X_9GjRv1XDW-2G692ZysUNTyct6_SBwrztcMqheRMCRcpRuwIygm4D8S2hSEpRPmQ8SOTXFP9Ad9LUcHPaX7a-d1DieZ7GBelmPc/s1600/IMG_3036.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA53qSNmZAMbNZxCYM7K7RSLUyEN7fBN9YY95b-X7X_9GjRv1XDW-2G692ZysUNTyct6_SBwrztcMqheRMCRcpRuwIygm4D8S2hSEpRPmQ8SOTXFP9Ad9LUcHPaX7a-d1DieZ7GBelmPc/s1600/IMG_3036.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Ah, here I am being fed by our friend Nancy’s little
daughter Alicia. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJsPuS-kLayq8C49gRsKFv3QRvKud8uI7B5dqMXzteaFaeM6bo9Pq_3zNStQwGyLfLu9ryPHV00Zm4GSylB5N5_ZaH2Sn3O_Rn-u4hqDvw9Bci0r0fqgDZPyk0ecik4PdMbNrJyJy-zg/s1600/DSCN2370_2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJsPuS-kLayq8C49gRsKFv3QRvKud8uI7B5dqMXzteaFaeM6bo9Pq_3zNStQwGyLfLu9ryPHV00Zm4GSylB5N5_ZaH2Sn3O_Rn-u4hqDvw9Bci0r0fqgDZPyk0ecik4PdMbNrJyJy-zg/s1600/DSCN2370_2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>However, that behavior leads to this behavior and my general
view of strollers as mobile snack shops.<span>
</span>This can lead to a lot of explaining (and tight leash control) on the
part of my humans to alarmed parents (“Not to worry, he’s not after your child,
just his food….”). </span></span></div>
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again feeding me an ice cream pop. Normally I lick the ice cream off the stick
but on this occasion I ever so gently relieved her of the entire thing and
swallowed it whole.<span> </span>This led to frantic
calls to the vet, a dose of oil and what I like to think of as “The Great
Popsicle Poop Watch.”<span> </span>For the next
several days all my gastrointestinal activities were regarded with even more than
the usual intense interest and scrutiny and my eliminatory efforts were poked,
prodded and squeezed to find the offending stick. Nada.<span> </span>After about a week the prevailing theory
became that my digestive tract was imbued with termite-like properties and that
I had digested the thing.<span> </span>Then one day
when Elizabeth came to pick me up for my afternoon walk, there was the stick!
Right on the carpet and completely free of any poop or sign of where it had
been. Clean as a whistle it was. How was this possible? It remains one of the
great Wimsey Mysteries. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, I hope that you are enjoying these jaunts down
memory lane and that they compensate for the lack of an actual blog post owing
to Wimsey Art Book Activities.<span> </span>Trust me,
we are all hoping that the book gets done soon. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Happy Easter!</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMrNaWC_TndgHonrgSLwUhFDORwNbqaEDdAOzyz3B-_LXkTFkoCK1nXb6cpRRqqTGOHwc_kGQ-Eiwp2oyEzSgqoAVUGnzfTjTtehj_QUrauyePwvyL5dfEipK3RuvuiDLarCiuE67rQA/s1600/IMG_20140418_154840.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFMrNaWC_TndgHonrgSLwUhFDORwNbqaEDdAOzyz3B-_LXkTFkoCK1nXb6cpRRqqTGOHwc_kGQ-Eiwp2oyEzSgqoAVUGnzfTjTtehj_QUrauyePwvyL5dfEipK3RuvuiDLarCiuE67rQA/s1600/IMG_20140418_154840.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"></span></span>Wimsey, louder than the Easter Bunny</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Wimseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16151716595518582902noreply@blogger.com2