Friday, April 18, 2008

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry # 63
April 18, 2008

Hello Everyone! It’s me Wimsey back once again in Hometown USA-- the magnificent Upper West Side of Manhattan. Last week I was forced to blog from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania as my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth had carted me off for a long weekend to attend the Eastern Regional Bloodhound Specialty and to be shown in three dog shows. Now some of you might not believe that actual Manhattan dwelling humans accompanied by a staunch New York Hound such as myself actually had the courage to leave the island of Manhattan, which is kind of reverse “Lost”—no one wants to leave this island. Ever. (The rest of the country being populated by colorfully dressed natives who don’t travel by subway, don’t pay exorbitant prices for non-exorbitant living spaces and don’t enroll their infants in French and art appreciation classes). And Manhattan also has its version of “the others” but we call these “people who live in the outer boroughs” and although we don’t have flesh eating monsters and polar bears roaming free, you can see amazing sights here—like a large baying Hound careening down the street in hot pursuit of a walk in Central Park (The New York Times’ Metropolitan Diary reported this week that a man in a business suit was seen strolling down the street with a latte in one hand and a live chicken tucked under the other arm. No one gave him second look. But of course everyone gives me a second look because I am a lot louder, a lot more beautiful and much more entertaining than any chicken. Also a chicken won’t steal your water bottle, cover you with slime or poke you in the backside).

Personally I am delighted to be back home—we are having wonderful spring weather and Central Park is a veritable cornucopia of spring flowers. I have already peed on many excellent species of flowering plant and viewed the cherry blossoms in full bloom—unfortunately I can’t pee on these until the trees shed their petals—a joyous annual event that I await with great anticipation. I am sure the samurai, who revered the cherry tree, would approve of them making the ultimate sacrifice for my peeing pleasure.

But I did enjoy Harrisburg and tried mightily to live up to my reputation as America’s Worst Behaved Show Dog—at Sunday’s show things seemed to be going better (or so Elizabeth my handler thought) until I noticed my good friend Brady Bloodhound ringside. Well of course I had to call out to him to come liberate me from this ridiculous ring so we could play. Fortunately we had a very nice judge who seemed to appreciate my fine voice if not my fine galloping and pacing around the ring. But I have to say that even though I pride myself on being the worst behaved animal, bloodhounds as a group do not display any notable degree of tractability in the show ring. Now whereas I like to gallop or pace or trop (my signature combo of the pace and the trot) and do everything except trot properly, I remain in awe of the Hound who elected to sit down in the middle of his down and back. It was a master stoke! And there were Hounds who fancied a belly rub instead of a stack and those who believed that the judge wanted to play with them when he tried to examine them. I have filed all these away in my “to do” list should my humans be brave enough to show me again.

And of course it was wonderful to see so many Hounds dragging their humans around the fantastically odiferous field in the back of the hotel, nose to the ground, tail up and straining their flexies for all they are worth (one estimable Hound even pulled his human over). I also observed that many of the humans associated with these Hounds were mysteriously trim. I imagine it was due to the Hound Diet.

Wimsey’s Ultra-Slim Fitness and Diet Plan

5:30am: Vigorous 2 hour walk (preferably in an area infested with fast moving squirrels) with one large hound, one long lead and no hound restraining equipment.

7:30 am: Shower off dirt (or mud depending on the weather), disinfect and bandage cuts, apply Arnica to the bruises.

Breakfast: Half grapefruit, scrambled eggs, bacon (optional potatoes), one slice wheat toast (no butter): Feed the scrambled eggs and bacon and optional potatoes to your Hound. You may consume the grapefruit (we generally don’t like grapefruit) and the piece of dry toast.


Two hour walk in hilly area—the uphill tow develops the quadriceps and the combination of gravity, a charging hound and a healthy sense of self preservation will enable you to increase your foot speed quite amazingly on the downhill.


Large roast beef sandwich au jus, French fries, cheesecake and an apple: feed the roast beef, fries and cheesecake to your Hound (he needs to replenish the calories he burned exercising you). You may eat the apple (hounds will eat apples but they usually prefer roast beef).


Leisurely two hour sunset tow with your Hound to build up an appetite (his) preferably in an area redolent with the smelly trails of small juicy mammals.


Half roast chicken, mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, salad (no dressing), vanilla ice cream: Feed the chicken, mashed potatoes and ice cream to your Hound—if you are exceptionally hungry you may reserve a drumstick for yourself and you are free to consume the steamed broccoli and salad.


Quick mile sprint with your Hound to relax before bed time followed by warm milk and shortbread cookies for your Hound and unsweetened chamomile tea for you.


So you see, The President doesn’t need a Council on Physical Fitness, he needs a President’s Council of Hounds.

But Harrisburg was not without its trauma for my humans. They discovered that there was no Starbucks in proximity to the hotel which constituted a crisis akin to there being no black clothing. Also, although Elizabeth was delighted with the bargain basement $4 gin and tonics our suburban locale mandated that she was unable to actually consume any because she was in charge of driving our vehicle The Wimsey (Jeep) Commander. And although we did not actually get lost thanks to our new GPS, Elizabeth had to pump gas twice. The first time she did manage to remember on which side of the car the gas tank was located but she required the assistance of a mechanic to twist off the gas cap; the second time she nearly put diesel fuel in the car.

Well because it has been a somewhat quiet week here in the big city (apart from the visit of the Pope whose views on Hounds are unknown but as he wears white he should exercise a considerable degree of caution upon meeting any ((unless he can have clothes made in white vinyl)). I have decided to include a Monster Montage of Photos from the Great Harrisburg Adventure (the only adventure my humans are likely to have as I don’t permit them to go on vacation without me).


Now first we begin in New York City with Wimsey Bath Night. This is a futile activity whereby I get fed an enormous amount of turkey while my humans attempt to obliterate my fine Hound fragrance. This is followed by a four-handed towel massage (I object to hair dryers).

Next, we arrive in The Wimsey Commander in Mecanicsburg, Pennsylvania.

There is a fine view of a nice smelly field right outside my window.

And here I am majestically enjoying the smelly field.

And while not actually disporting myself in the smelly field, I can closely monitor its condition utilizing a conveniently placed Hound sized chair.

But all too soon it was time to go to the dog show at the Pennsylvania Farm Center. I seem eager to arrive because I was hoping the sign said "Sheep, cows and horses this way!"

Here is a half of a ring of bloodhounds! I am on the other side of the ring misbehaving too much to be photographed.

But when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping (for me of course).

And the results of the expedition? A 45 inch squeaky orange monkey stick! I can't think of a more deserving Hound.

But all too soon it was time to go home. Fortunately this involved extensive riding in the Wimsey Commander.

Here I am about to fall asleep.

A nap is a fine way to end the weekend (I am dreaming about sitting down during my down and back). The humans are up front discussing how they would like to kill me, but of course I am far too cute and they love me far too much. And life would be unbearably tedious and boring without me. Game, set and match: Hound

Until next time,
Wimsey, Ch. Ewine Ramsey Creek's I've got you wrapped around my little finger.


Jake of Florida said...

We had to check back to hear the rest of the story -- and we enjoyed every detail. Mom just read Marley and Me -- and we think the Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound would be even more hilarious (although M & M had a tearful ending).

Lots of love and envy at your beng able to pee on so many flora in Central Park. What a fine send-off for the petal sect.

Jake and Just Harry, the Barklaots

Thoughts said...

Wimsey we are glad you had a fun adventure outside of Manhattan. Its always good to travel around, for the aromas you come across are irresistible.

We prefer trollops in the valleys here in boring old Ohio. There are plenty of moles, groundhogs, squirrels, chipmunks, bunnies and other small animals to chase and try to catch.

And there are wonderful piles of goose poop in which we try to roll before our humans can run fast enough to stop us :)

Benson and Gibson

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