Friday, June 8, 2007

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry #19
June 8, 2007

Hello Everyone. Wimsey here. Well I must say, I am extremely disappointed this week. Having induced my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth to buy me a super cool, fashion forward, cooling coat (from SherBert Stuff, the weather has turned inexplicably temperate here on the Island of Manhattan. By the way, I have always enjoyed the fact that I live on an island—it somehow appeals to my romantic Hound nature—and conjures up visions of mysterious castaways like those on the TV show “Lost” (“Help! Help! I’ve just seen a Giant Black and Tan Beast that makes a deafening noise and secretes copious amounts of a mysterious sticky substance--- I think it dissolves the brain!) Or maybe Manhattan is really a purgatory-like island to which its inhabitants have all been sent to redeem themselves and repair their karmic destinies (“Oh no! I’ve been sentenced to live in a small apartment with a large Hound” or “Do you think having to take Wimsey into the show ring is punishment for something horrible that I did in a past life?”) And of course, the Hound is the ultimate instrument of divine retribution—it’s pretty hard for humans to think of themselves as being in any way important when they are covered in drool, dirt (did I mention how vigorously I like to kick dirt after I poop?), and hound hair. In fact I am sure that Hounds were put here to help humans combat the Seven Deadly Sins:

Lust: If you have enough energy for this, you have not properly exercised the Hound. (NB: the penalties for improperly exercising the Hound are stiff—like the mass destruction of all your property—of course sometimes we destroy things anyway just for the fun of it).

Gluttony: Food is a lot less appealing after it’s been drooled on and snuffled through. Also, you will find that large quantities of it mysteriously vanish.

Greed: No amount of money will make a Hound listen to you. In fact no amount of anything will make a Hound listen to you.

Sloth: This is self defeating since if you fail to exercise the Hound you will not have any furniture left upon which to be slothful.

Wrath: Ever try yelling with a large, slimy Hound tongue in your mouth?

Envy: You have a Hound—what else could you possible want?

Pride: You know those designer clothes you had…
In Wimsey World, pride goeth before the fall--literally.

Of course maybe Manhattan is not a karmic retribution type of Island at all. Maybe it is like a “Survivor” type island where you get voted off for not being famous or successful enough or for wearing clothes with too many colors in them. And people could get voted off the Island for asking questions such as:

If Wimsey is so nice, why is he wearing a muzzle (Probably because it’s a Gentle Leader).

Why does Wimsey have testicles (For the same reason you do).

Isn’t it unfair to keep Wimsey in the City (No, it’s unfair of Wimsey to keep his humans in Central Park).

Why is Wimsey baying (I’m a Hound, I don’t need a reason).

Does he eat a lot (No, I got to be this size on Lean Cuisine).

Is he a good dog (Define your terms).

Does he drool (To quote John McEnroe—“You cannot be serious!”).

Of course, it is often entertaining to talk to people about all of my many fine qualities—and to hear what breeds people think I am: So far, I have been a Great Dane, a Mastiff, a Basset Hound (somehow no one seems to realize that ‘basset” means short!), a Coon Hound, a St. Bernard, a Newfoundland (OK, these guys drool too, but there is a definite hair issue here), a Shar pei, a Shar pei mix, a Filo Brasileiro (this flatters my ego enormously) and my all time favorite—a guy who, with great authority, pronounced me a Doberman-St. Bernard mix. Now, he really deserves to be voted off the island!

And Manhattan is very much like other Islands in that people come from all over the world to visit it-- only they don’t go about with colorful shirts, straw hats and big fruity drinks (well, maybe the drinks). Anyway, I always cause quite a stir when I appear amongst the tourists::

Tourist #1: Come quick, bring the camera! I have found a large Hound!

Tourist #2: What a handsome Hound! He is even more majestic than the Statue of Liberty.

Tourist #1: I can’t find him in our guidebook. Do you think he is really a New York Hound?

Tourist # 2: Well he is mostly wearing black. And he walks fast and is quite loud.

Tourist #1: Where is he going in such a hurry? Let’s follow him.

Tourist #2: Grom Gelato! Wow! What A place. In New York City even the Hounds are trendy!

And of course like all Island visitors, tourists can eat exotic foods (“What exactly is a knish?”), drink exotic drinks (“There seem to be leaves in this mojito thing”), see colorful (or not) natives do exotic dances (“Can we get into Bungalow 8”), view exciting indigenous species (“do rats and cockroaches really grow that big), hear new languages (“no habla Ingles”) and meet celebrities (“Look, it’s Wimsey! He’s hot. He’s wearing his famous cooling coat”).

But I digress-- I was discussing how much I was looking forward to having people questioning me about my new cooling coat (although I look smashing in gray, sad to say, the coats do not yet come in Wimsey Green). So where is global warming when you need it! Now global warming is apparently a terrible problem even though we have yet to see much evidence of it here in New York City. However, as in so many things, I believe that the Hound can be of immense value to solve this impending ecological crisis.

For instance, why lounge about comfortably in the air conditioning squandering electricity, when you could spend many happy and productive hours outside being dragged about by an energetic Hound? Want to get better gas mileage and reduce automotive emissions—the giant “hound spot” we create in your rear view mirror insures that you will drive very slowly and thus use a lot less gas. Thinking about zipping around the world on a gas guzzling jet plane? Think again—where are you ever going to find someone to take care of an immense drooly, baying Hound?

And of course the Hound will also reduce your use of many other electrical devices such the computer—you can’t use what you can’t see (I like to interpose my massive frame in front of the monitor). Or perhaps you were thinking of watching some TV, but look-- there seems to be a pile of plastic debris where the remote used to be! Again, all down to the Hound. You will also have much less laundry to do as we Hounds helpfully reduce the number of usable fabric items in your closets, kitchens and bathrooms. And Hounds are very helpful in the horticultural arena—encouraging oxygen producing plants to grow through our extensive, mobile fertilization system. In fact I am quite sure we Hounds would be happy to travel about, spreading the wealth as it were—kind of the Hound version of Johnny Appleseed.

OK, well it is time for me to repair to my couch and think deep thoughts about how to solve more of the world’s intractable problems. Now Elizabeth always makes fun of the fact that I have a pointy head (“Look! Wimsey’s head is shaped like a dunce cap—how appropriate”), but I don’t think she appreciates how much intelligence it takes to solve problems the Wimsey Way—by using the tools nature provided. I wonder if I can vote her off the Island?

Until next time,

Wimsey, the Island Hound


Bootsie said...

I've only just found your blog through Ernest...


Us Hounds are very cool....
(but lets not argue over the merits of sight over scent.... ok?)

Peanut said...

More people should read your blog and then they would know everyone needs a hound or maybe just a dog since I do lots of these things also. :) Dogs the answer to global warming.

Anonymous said...

Hey Wimsey, great blog this week!

Gus said...

Don't feel bad that people don't know what breed you are. Wire Fox Terriers are called: Airedales, square poodles (I didn't know poodles were that square!), Bedlingtons, fuzzy cocker spaniels, etc. My favorite though is the little kid who insists on calling me the "Teddy Bear Dog"

Princess Eva and Brice said...

Wimsey for President! You are such a wise hound and it seems you have the answers to all the problems the humans have made in this world. We would be glad to support you in any way we can if you should decide to run! Belly Rubs, Tasha & Eva.

Nessa Happens said...

I want to be in your Cabinet if you do make president. Do you keep cookies in your Cabinet? That's where my mama keeps ours...

Boomer and his mom Carol said...


Sorry I haven't been by lately pal - I sure have missed you.

I don't think I could vote my mom off the island as she provides my favorite food - canned pumpkin.

Hey, if you see Sawyer anywhere on your island, tell him that my mom has a crush on him!

Tart said...

Hello Wimsey, Ash here. Your city life sounds a **** site more exciting than my country one is today. One walk so far, and that was so long ago I can hardly remember it. But I fear there is worse - a trip to the vet for unmentionable treatment to rear end - not at all becoming in a dog of such fine chocolate breeding as my good self. Never fear, my humans will suffer for it..... PS Please post a pic of your cool coat cos I ain't never heard of one. Can Maria customise it so that it is in a suitably heritage shade of green for you?

Anonymous said...

wimsey, you sure are beautiful! i'd love to be owned by a hound like you, but i'm already owned by three vizslas!

Nessa Happens said...

Dear Wimsey - please remind Maria that it is not the COSTUMES themselves that are funny, it is what is IN them, poorly concealed.

My husband's family used to refer to Labyrinth as "that movie with the guy with the big balls."