Wimsey's Bog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #228

Entry #228

September 9, 2011

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from the Upper West Side of Manhattan where we have had a stormy week. And the weather was bad too. We had an insane amount of heavy rain which displeased me greatly and by canine proxy made the life of my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth correspondingly miserable. Wet bored and smelly are unfortunate adjectives when applied to a 125 pound Hound who is feeling deprived of his usual amount of park tow time. And you can use your olfactory imagination as to the effect of persistently damp weather on an already significantly overripe Hound whose much-needed ablutions were cancelled due to the inclement conditions.

But the obnoxiousness really got its start on our Sunday afternoon walk. Such was the perfection of my behavior that I was forced to brag about it (and as you know I am a very modest Hound) on Facebook; so if you’ve already read about some of my antics, read about them again because really the grandeur of my exploits can never be repeated too many times. They should be like the oral tradition that many societies employ that are passed down over generations to educate the young of the tribe.

Perhaps some more repetition would have helped our friend Mary Margaret reconsider her decision to acquire a bloodhound puppy (although it is much more likely that the puppy acquired Mary Margaret). Apparently this fine young animal ate a $300 design book much to our friend’s dismay. My humans, however, were surprised that there was only one $300 design book involved but attributed this to the state of the puppy’s as yet incomplete digestive prowess. Given the fact that Mary Margaret reads this blog and has actually met me, perhaps her expectations should be adjusted accordingly. She is hoping her Hound will grow out of its destructive proclivities whereas my humans know that it will actually grow into them. A fact to which our friend Gus the Bloodhound of Alaska (aka “The Gusinator”) and his humans can readily attest. Gus is four years of age and still going strong in every sense of the word (lately he decided that the family’s white carpet needed some livening up—say to a more cheerful orange color to combat the long Alaska winter—and effected a the change via the liberal application of indelible chai tea).

The depth of human gullibility vis a vis we Hounds never fails to astonish me. My humans spend considerable amounts of time trying to educate the unsuspecting public about the perils of Hound ownership but to little avail. I suspect that people think 1) my humans are exaggerating, 2) nothing that cute can be that bad 3) my humans are simply incompetent when it comes to dogs and 4) Their Hound will be different. My humans wring their hands. I snicker. Perhaps Maria should add last night’s escapades to her war stories: owing to the fact that I wished to sleep the wide way across all the bed’s pillows and Maria wished to obtain at least part of a pillow. I vacated the bed in a huff and proceeded to spend the rest of the night flapping my ears next to her head. (And for the uninitiated, the sound made by long, heavy Hound ears in vigorous flap is not something that is consistent with a restful night’s sleep). Personally, as a great admirer of raccoons, I think Maria’s eyes look nice that way.

But I digress. Sunday got off to a great start as on our way to the park we met this delightful creature. Her named is Gucci (like my favorite snack shoes!) and her humans are training her to be a guide dog for the blind. I am always amazed at dogs that do things for people instead of to them! But I too would like to wear a snazzy little vest if only there were service jobs that I were qualified to do:

Potential Wimsey Service Jobs

Guide Dog for the Sighted: Do you like to visit all the best places? Be in the know with the Guide Dog for the Sighted who will make sure that sighted humans are guided to appropriate places, such as parks, gelato stands, frozen yogurt and gourmet ice cream shops, food trucks, pizza parlors, pet stores (toy, treat and chew sections only), garbage mounds, car rental agencies, benches where people are eating lunch, fields where people are having picnics, outdoor cafes where people are eating dinner, sports activities involving stray balls or Frisbees, film crew catering trucks, film and TV location shoots where loud baying is not in the script and to bodies of water in which a dog taking a dip incurs a heavy fine. Also, it is important to keep humans away from inappropriate places such as the vet’s office, the pet store (grooming supplies, no pull harnesses and gentle leaders and canine clothing sections) and the bathtub.

Smelling Nose Dog: It is a well-known fact that humans have a poor sense of smell. The Smelling Nose Dog helps overcome this handicap by alerting olfactorily deficient humans to important scents such as passersby who are wearing dirty underwear, sweaty clothes or who have poor personal hygiene, ladies who are having their time of the month, juicy rats lurking in bushes or in near garbage cans, raccoon spoor, heavily urinated upon grass onto which they might like to roll, deceased wildlife, the edible contents of other people’s shopping bags and decayed food items for a quick sidewalk snack.

Wingman Service Dog for the Chronically Shy: Hate going to parties where you don’t know anyone? The Wingman Service Dog accompanies humans to cocktail parties and prevents them from standing awkwardly alone in the corner. The Wingman Hound is trained to drag reluctant humans over to complete strangers and introduce them to his human by dint of poking them with his muzzle, leaning on them with his hefty, hair shedding body, sitting painfully on their feet, attempting to share their cocktail snacks, inserting his tongue into their wine or cocktail glasses, standing on his head and spinning around, rolling over and thwacking them with a paw until they scratch his belly and attracting a crowd by flinging drool on them and baying loudly. The highly trained and gregarious Wingman Hound believes that there are no such thing as strangers, just irate people that he hasn’t met yet.

Food Tasting Dog: Is your food safe? Is it tasty? It is the purpose of the Food Tasting Dog to reassure alimentarily anxious people that their food is untainted by frightening microorganisms and that it is pleasing to the palate. The Food Tasting Dog is capable of utilizing his skill both on food that you have spent hours cooking and preparing as well as on the raw stuff straight out of the refrigerator. No food item is beneath his notice and his vigilant supervision of kitchen activities is legendary. Fortunately tainted food will not harm the Food Tasting Dog— unwholesome food will simply reappear as a steaming, regurgitated mound on the living room carpet.

Landscaping Assistant: Hate having a yard and garden that look like the one your neighbor has? The Landscaping Assistance Dog will change all that forever and give your property a distinctive look impossible to emulate by conventional means. Flowers with no heads, artistically placed holes, shrubs that look like they have been designed by Dali and much more can be yours. (Many Landscaping Assistance Dogs have co-certification as Fence Assistance Dogs too).

Yoga and Physical Fitness Assistance Dog: This assistance dog will help you maximize the benefits of your yoga and physical fitness program. Are you finding it too easy to hold a yoga position? Then try doing it with the 125lb Yoga Assistance Dog sitting on top of you. Are you finding it difficult to attain maximum stretch? No stretch is too difficult with an extra 125lbs of mass pushing on those reluctant muscles. And of course doing sit ups with the Yoga and Physical Fitness Assistant sitting on your stomach is a great way to tone the abdominal muscles that you will need to stay upright when he drags you around outside.

Zen Assistance Dog: The purpose of the Zen Assistance Dog is to help you achieve enlightenment. Through the systematic and sequential destruction of your personal possessions the Zen Assistance Dog will liberate you from dependence on material objects. Moreover the Zen Assistance Dog will also undertake the systematic and sequential destruction of your ego and remove any illusory and unhealthy feelings of control over your life that you may have harbored. Humans who employ a Zen Assistance Dog come to realize that their life is governed by a higher power beyond the reach of human control.

Well you get the idea. I have spoken many times about the efficacy of the Wimsey Diet in promoting weight loss so I guess I am already a service dog although whom exactly I serve is open for debate.

But I was speaking about the outstanding day in the park that I had Sunday. Here is a taste of what happened:

Wimsey Park Activity Log

1:10pm: Got off to excellent start by finding broken tennis ball and attempting to eat same. Humans, paralyzed by visions of Vet Visit$ Future, sprang into action with fistfuls of turkey. Did not relinquish moldy prize until sufficient quantity of bird produced.

1:45pm: Turkey bribing thirsty work so began cooling off operations in the Central Park Stream. Found intact tennis ball and began playing splashy Hound soccer with it much to the delight of a large, attentive crowd. No one else able to use stream until finished.

2: 10 pm: Finally got bored with soccer and decided it would be nice to jump in the Central Park Lake with Elizabeth attached. She disagreed.

2:15 pm: Decided to revisit jumping in the lake idea. Same result.

2:20pm: Began eyeing Bethesda Fountain as alternative to Lake when distracted by water bottle (Poland Spring my favorite!) that needed to be killed. One of five that I bagged that day.

2:25pm: Finished with water bottle and found miscellaneous organic matter to ingest. Humans undecided as to whether it was rotten food or animal poop but certain that the ensuing gastric consequences would be messy.

2:35pm: Very hot. Elizabeth bought a soda as keeping us out of the lake apparently very dehydrating. Launched a sneak attack on bottle just as she was about to drink bashing same into her teeth.

3:00pm: Decided to take a break. Lay down in one of the many excellent spots where there is no place for my humans to sit forcing them to stand around watching me relax.

3:30 pm: Constant demands to be fed cookies having stimulatory effect on bowels. Jammed butt up against fence so poop fell on both sides necessitating maximum amount of effort for its retrieval.

4:00pm: Ladies decided perhaps we should start to head home. I disagreed. Heinous Gentle Leader waved under my nose in threatening manner. Distance to home: 1.5 miles. Rate at which I walked: 1.5 miles/hour

4:30pm: Took a break from Chihuahua sized steps to haul ass over to a pedicab and attempt to board. Engaged in prolonged loud baying when prevented.

5pm: Home to the AC. Ignored disgusting, non-turkey augmented kibble in my bowl and commenced nap on the couch. Need to keep up my strength for when neighbor’s cat appears in our shared garden.

And a delightful day was had by all. Well really only by me. Anyway, it made up for the fact that most of the week was just rain. However, the week was still exciting because my picture appeared in tony Draft magazine next to a write up on my brewery, Baying Hound Aleworks. My humans bought up all the copies in Barnes and Noble and have been practically running up to strangers on the street to show them. My picture is also appearing in the East Tennessee Bloodhound Rescue’s 2012 calendar. I am Mr. December and if you want to contribute to a good cause and buy a calendar visit http://www.lulu.com/product/calendar/east-tennessee-bloodhound-rescue-2012/16954478

Well I think that is about all for this week. Hopefully we will have some better weather next week for me to drag my humans out in. Of course I did get a bath yesterday which means that that stinky lake is looking awfully good. Perhaps Elizabeth should invest in some water wings.

Until next time,

Wimsey, a model Hound

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #227

Entry #227

September 2, 2011

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from the Land the Hurricane Forgot, otherwise known as Manhattan’s Upper West Side where we were mercifully spared much of Mother Nature’s wrath. In last week’s post I enumerated all the precautions that my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth took to ensure my safety and comfort during the storm and, however enjoyable these were, I am pleased to report that they were wholly unnecessary. We neither heard wind or rain nor felt anything out of the ordinary. As planned, the ladies ate a quantity of lasagna, drank a quantity of intoxicating spirits and remained riveted to weather TV, which continued to predict doom and gloom for New York City pretty much until the sun came out the next morning.

And we got to watch a press conference with poor Mayor Bloomberg who looked like he hadn’t slept in 48 hours, which he probably hadn’t. The fact that the Mayor looked about a hundred years old and like he was about to keel over sadly did not prevent him from trying to speak Spanish, a source of amusement to even my non-Spanish speaking humans. Apparently they were not the only ones amused as a mischievous soul from Washington Heights started a Twitter feed, @ElBloombito which purports to come from the mayor and is a virtuoso and a hugely entertaining display of Spanglish. (If only the mayor had been trying to speak French I could have swung into action! (I suggest you check it out.

But I digress. To be fair to the much maligned and misguided weather folk, it was actually still raining early Sunday morning when we got up. However the amount of rain was wholly within acceptable Wimsey walking parameters and so, dashingly caparisoned in my red raincoat, I dragged the ladies about for quite a lengthy stroll. And as is usual with these situations, the sky cleared just as we returned to Elizabeth’s apartment where we had spent the night for fear of my crib flooding—another weather induced disaster which I am pleased to report did not happen. My priceless stuffed toy collection remains intact.

We returned from our wet walk to a delicious post-hurricane breakfast of scrambled eggs and yam (me) and a not so delicious yogurt and instant oatmeal (them). Both my humans are trying to shed some encroaching avoir du poids and beef up their fitness levels which has some obvious benefits for me: 1) They split any guilt-inducing high calorie goodies with me (NB: to a Hound the word “split” does not imply 50-50) and 2) they justify letting me drag them around the park for four hour stretches as being a more fitness inducing alternative than sitting on the couch scratching my belly. I still maintain that Biggest Loser contestants should be sent home with a large, voracious and energetic Hound.

Also, Elizabeth is getting back to that delightful state of affairs where I outweigh her (unfortunately Maria’s height precludes this as a healthy option for her)—there is nothing quite so satisfying as giving a mammoth yank on my leash and finding a lot less of Elizabeth on the other end of it! The fact that the less she weighs the more I pull seems to aggravate her for some unfathomable reason. But I do so enjoy being the cloud in her silver lining.

And later that afternoon we all went out again to Riverside Park where we rendezvoused with my new friend Beckett and his humans. Beckett is also an aficionado of the four-hour walk and we both had a lot of walk time to make up for, as Saturday’s climactic conditions were most unpropitious. It is believed that Beckett is part coonhound (he is ambivocal--he knows how to bay as well as how to bark- and is fond of his food) but the rest of his

ancestry is a matter of conjecture. But like a true Hound he is in constant motion outdoors so getting a picture of us together required some wrangling which somehow resulted in his humans’ heads being cut off. What a shame.

And what a treasure trove I found along the Hudson River’s high water mark—delicious debris of every kind, including a whole clump of plastic water bottles!

It took both my humans hauling hard on my leash to drag me away. Eventually. And as for Central Park, there was surprisingly little damage—nothing compared to the “ordinary” storm we had last year that decimated whole groups of trees—just some branches and a few trees down which makes for some interesting sniffing and peeing. The weather has been spectacular this week which means my park dwell time has been correspondingly elongated engendering much pleading and cookie feeding and gentle leader threatening on the part of my humans.

As an aside, and to answer a question from last week, observant readers will notice that from time to time I am not walked in my harness but on the Heinous Gentle Leader. The Gentle Leader (and its evil cousin, The Halti) is the enemy of all canines everywhere. However, my humans resort to its use from time to time in situations where they feel that being attached to a 125lb Hound in a harness is inconsistent with their ongoing viability—such as walking in a hurricane or a thunderstorm, or walking on slippery surfaces such as ice and snow (winter), wet leaves (fall) and mud (spring) or when I am in a particularly rambunctious mood. It is also employed to prevent me from ransacking pet stores, playing with other patients at the vet’s office and of course when all other measures fail to effect my removal from the park.

My humans have also tried a variety of “no pull” harnesses--the existence of which ranks right up there with the existence of the Abominable Snow Man and the Loch Ness Monster when used on an “all pull” Hound. Hence the occasional (and grossly unfair) resort to snout control.

Anyway, in addition to the non-hurricane, this week also brought the advent of the U.S. Open Tennis Tournament something I always personally enjoy watching and fantasize about participating in. And naturally I am rooting for Jack Sock (Jacques Chausette for those of you in the zone francophone)—I mean who can resist a tennis player named after one of my favorite toys (I wonder if his middle name is Smelly). I think the other tennis players should take note and revise their names accordingly:

Novak Laundry Bin

Rafael Big Piece of Liver

Roger Couch Cushion

Andy Gelato

Caroline Neighbor’s Cat

Vera Whatever Is On Your Plate

Maria Large Raccoon

Victoria Sidewalk Chicken Bones

Well you get the idea.

I hope you all have an exciting three day weekend—I know those with Hounds certainly will as life with us is nothing if not exciting, although perhaps not always in the way humans could desire.

Until next time,

Wimsey, coveted, cosseted and dry

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #226

Entry #226

August 26, 2011

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from Hound Hurricane Central on New York’s Upper West Side where preparations for my safety and comfort are in full swing. Originally my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth were going to rent a car and take me on a drive to nowhere (also known as Ohio) to escape the coming storm. Then they became concerned about getting back if the roadways were flooded and also about looking pretty ridiculous if the storm turned out not to be so bad.

So then the debate focused on whose apartment would be safest for me—my own where I have easy access in and out but which is on the ground floor in a small building that might flood or Elizabeth’s which is on the 14^th floor and likely to get a tad windy and would have no elevator service if the power went out. In the end Elizabeth did some advanced meteorological research and realized that hurricanes come in from the east and her windows face out to the west. So she’ll have a couple of houseguests as of tomorrow night.

I understand that all the cupboards and closets (not to mention the refrigerator) in Elizabeth’s apartment are now filled with emergency supplies (I don’t know, are two dozen eggs really enough? Maria is only bringing a dozen already hard-boiled. And I won’t even mention Elizabeth’s battery collection or the fact that she’s got three phones). The only thing Elizabeth didn’t have to buy were adult beverages as she somehow always manages to have a vast supply of those.

She specializes in preparing The Wimsey Cocktail (a large glass of gin) and if you drink a few of those you quickly forget that you are cooped up with a large, smelly bored Hound. And in a prodigious demonstration of domestic skill Elizabeth will be boiling noodles and assembling a giant lasagna for me to steal. The only thing she apparently learned from watching all those Gordon Ramsey TV shows is how to scream at me, call me a donkey and tell me to piss off (which has an entirely different meaning when applied to me so it is best used only in outdoor situations).

But seriously NYC is going to be in lockdown mode—mass transit has been suspended for the first time in history and even Fairway (our local gourmet store cum supermarket of horrors) is closing tomorrow at noon. No one knows what to expect except my humans who know exactly what to expect—a giant Hound in the lap, a large paw in the ribs and enough drool to make a hurricane seem like a light drizzle. And I expect a large lasagna.

There is talk of spending the night depleting Elizabeth’s drink collection and playing Scrabble using only words relating to Hounds. There is also Trivial Pursuit but sadly there is no Hound version of this. There should be:

Original Version (Hound Version)

Geography (Holes your Hound has dragged you into, locations of gelato shops, snack shops and overpriced pet boutiques)

Entertainment (things your Hound has done to entertain himself that have resulted in law suits).

History (The shoes you used to own, the bras you used to own, the clothing you used to own, the furniture you used to own, the food you used to eat).

Arts and Literature (things the drool pattern on the walls and ceilings remind you of, famous stack dances, Wimsey’s most memorable quotations).

Science and Nature (origins of the disgusting deceased animals onto which Hounds like to enthusiastically roll).

Sports (ice skating without skates, sledding without sleds, skiing without skis, mud wrestling, bath wrestling, eating dinner, etc.).

OK, so enough for the moment about the hurricane (I will try to tweet, post on Facebook, blog or otherwise update you on my hurricane happenings). The week was actually quite busy—a lot of meeting and greeting (including a family who has bloodhounds!) and park lounging and carrying on on the way home. There were no tuna sandwiches this week but we did stop at Handles, the new frozen yogurt shop so Elizabeth could try some. Needless to

say, the sight of her eating what should be my frozen yogurt incensed me to such a degree that it provoked some really world class irate baying. And the sound of this world class irate baying incensed passersby to such a degree that it provoked a storm of world class demands to let me have the yogurt. So after hurriedly gobbling a few guilty spoonfuls, Elizabeth complied.

Bucking public opinion on the streets of New York is never easy but when the cause in question is as cute as I am it is ne’er well impossible. The yogurt is pretty good—not Grom Gelato by any means—but an acceptable tribute after a hard afternoon spent refusing to go in any direction that my humans want to go in.

And we did run into a bride (you can see her in the background) who was trying to get her picture taken but she, her entourage and those watching kept getting distracted by my attempts to add a musical accompaniment to the proceedings. I was kept at a distance where it was deemed that even I could not fling drool but folks around found my vocalizations so compelling that they joined in. So I was frog marched out of Bethesda Terrace to the sound of humans baying (or trying to—humans seem to find it difficult to replicate my chest voice —they bay from the throat which is poor technique. And they fail to achieve a proper lip purse also).

I did try several times to jump in the lake (last year we visited the Michigan Lakes and I refused to go in—illicit bodies of water are a lot more appealing than the licit kind--) and apart from the fine that would be levied if I am caught Maria swears that she will hustle me off to Elizabeth’s for immediate deposit in the tub if I succeed. The Central Park Lake water is delightfully stinky and I think it would make a fine addition to my Houndly scent so stay tuned.

In last week’s post I discussed the importance of developing new skills and expanding one’s repertoire of annoying habits. Well owing to the friendly Pedi cab guys at the 77th Street entrance to Central Park I have become obsessed, enamored and just plain crazy about Pedi cabs. Not only do I insist on inspecting the ones at 77^th Street (apparently only one of which has a seat deep enough to accommodate my majestic tush) but I now tow (charge?) my humans over to all of them scaring the bejesus out of some of the less canine savvy Pedicabistas (to say nothing of the frozen looks of terror I get from some of their hapless passengers!) It’s all very satisfying. At least for me.

And then of course there is my eternal fascination with New York City’s extensive wildlife population (except the mice in my apartment who I find boring—perhaps because my human would prefer otherwise). This juicy duck rather took my fancy.

But sadly I was not permitted to get to know him better. I am thinking of requesting duck for my hurricane meal. Perhaps I should add it to the list of tips for hurricane preparedness:

1. Stock up on essential items (dog food, bribing turkey, bully sticks, gin)

2. Remove the Hound to higher ground (the couch)

3. Fill bathtub with water so toilet can be flushed and Hound can safely drink.

4. Reassure Hound that it is safe to go into a bathroom with a full tub

5. Secure important documents such as

Hound’s registration, championship certificate, show photos, etc. in plastic bags.

6. Do not allow Hound access to the plastic bags (tape to ceiling)

7. Buy Hound new toys to distract him from the storm

8. In the event of power failure, feed all perishable items to the Hound

9. Make sure you have cash so Hound can steal high denomination bills and your screaming can drown out the sound of the hurricane when you try to retrieve them

10. Make sure you have plenty of ice cubes-- in the event of a power failure use the ice cubes to make cocktails—you’ll need them.

Anyway, I think I will leave it there for the moment. For now the sun is shining and it might be time to attempt another pre-hurricane inspection of Elizabeth’s apartment. (I think around here Hurricane Irene is going to be known as Hurricane Wimsey).

Until next time (and until my storm-tracker Wimsey updates),

Wimsey

PS: It is always a bad sign when The Weather Channel sends Jim Cantore to your city—he usually shows up where they expect things to be most “exciting”