Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry # 17
May 25, 2007

Hello Everyone! Wimsey here. Well to begin, I’d like to thank my good friend Nanook the Newfy (http://nanookthenewfy.blogspot.com) for nominating me for a Blogger’s Choice Award http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/blogs/show/16046).

Now although Nanook is not himself a show dog, I understand that his little brother Pooka is being groomed (quite literally—have you seen the hair on those guys! And my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth think I wreak havoc on the bathroom during bath night; --“Oh look, Wimsey has flung clumps of wet hair onto the ceiling--and we thought he only flung drool”) for the show ring. Well I can hardly wait to tell him about all the fun he is going to have if he follows in my spectacularly oversized paws.

By the way, did I ever mention that I have very large feet? Now I use their generous size and pleasing proportions to create lovely bruise art on the bodies of my humans. Mostly I work in abstracts and like to restrict my palette to purple, black, and greenish yellow, but sometimes my work assumes an oddly representational quality (“Look at this new bruise Wimsey has created—don’t you think that it looks like a sheep?”) Of course the market for bruise art is somewhat limited as it is a quite an ephemeral medium, so I also like to take drab, monochromatic textiles and bring them to life via the application of paw shaped designs. (Wow! Look at those sheets. Wimsey has certainly been very busy today. I wonder if Bloomingdales would be interested in carrying the Wimsey line. I understand there are towels to match”). And of course, I can not only make items of clothing more visually arresting through the use of drool appliqué and paw print batik, but I can also create fresh and exciting new designs through the strategic introduction of new ventilation. (“Oh look at that beautiful Swiss cheese motif Wimsey has introduced into your new t-shirt. It’s such a shame that his creations are one of a kind, but that is always the downside of couture isn’t it.” And “I certainly get a lot of attention when I wear Wimsey, but do you think his designs are too young for me?”) My dream, however, is to dress Angelina Jolie on the red carpet:

Joan Rivers: Here’s Angelina Jolie. Who are you wearing Angelina?

Angelina Jolie: I’m wearing Wimsey, Joan.

Joan Rivers: Fabulous! I understand he only does custom work these days and is much in demand. How did you snare him?

Angelina Jolie: I promised him complete artistic freedom. And a lot of liver.

Joan Rivers: Well it certainly paid off—such a unique and airy look. What was the original color of the dress Angelina?

Angelina Jolie: It was originally pale peach but Wimsey absolutely hated the color—he much prefers earth tones.

JR: So I see. And what are those swatches of color?

AJ: Wimsey believes that newly mown grass is a very flattering color for me.

JR: I see. And tell me about that unusual bodice—it certainly looks cool, but how does it stay up---the straps seem to be hanging off of it.

AJ: Yes, the hanging straps are new from Wimsey this season—he likes the casual, careless look of them.

JR: And look! Here comes Brad and all those children! I can see they are all wearing Wimsey! How ever did you get Brad to wear those crotchless trousers? They’re fabulous!

AJ: Well it took some convincing, but you know Wimsey always believes in showing off his client’s best features.

JR: And what about the children? It almost looks like they are wearing rags! They must have cost a fortune—so much detail work.

AJ: Yes, well here, Wimsey decided to reference the children’s heritage and call attention to world poverty. He has quite a social conscience you now—he’s very vocal about the issue.

JR: Well congratulations on your fashion coup Angelina! I hear Jennifer Anniston is now in Vons buying up liver.

Anyway, I am a Hound of many parts (most of them drool covered) but while I am waiting for my design career to take off, my show ring career continues to take off (literally). Last Saturday I was shown at the Ladies Kennel Club of Oyster Bay (a place we managed to take an unscheduled scenic tour of both coming and going, I might add) and I have to say that I put on a stellar performance—it should definitely net me a Hound of the Year award! I was completely inspired by my last post (see #16) and the entertainment potential of Xtreme Show Handling and I decided to engage in a little test run. Now fortuitously (at least for me) there was a bitch just coming into season in the ring, just like in my Xtreme Show handling TV episode! As you know, I am generally thought to be a pretty modest Hound, but I have to say that I was brilliant that day. First I displayed my entire repertoire of gaits—the gallop, the pace, the trot and my signature trot/pace hybrid, the “trop.” Next, being a truly romantic Hound, I decided to loudly serenade the lovely canine creature who was standing in such tantalizing and leash straining proximity. The judge was most appreciative of my efforts-- although I hear that she is considering adding a pair of Bose noise canceling headphones to her show equipment. And then, not content with my efforts so far, I pulled off my master stroke—I once again invented an entirely new gait! In this one, (which requires superb balance and coordination), the nose stays firmly planted in the grass so as to lovingly inhale and savor every molecule of the beloved’s enchanting scent. To be performed properly, the gait must be executed on the full run to more fully convey the intensity of houndly ardor. The sight of a 125 pound baying, tracking Hound driven wild by love, brought joy to the faces of the crowd and tears to my handler, Elizabeth.

I know Elizabeth really enjoyed handling me in the ring that day. It was all “Well, Wimsey behaved like an idiot! But then again he does have a very romantic nature and when he is in love, I suppose nothing else matters to him.” She was particularly impressed that my degree of infatuation was such that even the dangling of boiled liver proved fruitless. (“That was real devotion on Wimsey’s part; I wish I could find a man who would do that for me.”)

Wimsey’s Tips for Successful Dating:

Make a good first impression: Bathe.

Mind your Manners: Try not to drool on your date.

Make your priorities clear: You’d much rather have sex than eat liver.

Don’t monopolize the conversation: Stop baying occasionally.

Restraint: Don’t paw your date.

Be Honest: It really is all about you.

Anyway, Xtreme show Handling is not the only one of my proposed TV shows that seems to have sprung to life. All My Poop, the soap opera about my eliminatory activities, also seems to be right up there on the life imitates art scale. My humans appear to derive a vast amount of enjoyment and satisfaction from an in depth analysis of my toilet habits. And who am I to disappoint them:

As the Poop Turns: A continuing saga

Elizabeth: Look! Wimsey has begun the Poop Walk! Phase I has begun. (For the uninitiated, Phase I of the poop process begins with the patented Wimsey Poop Walk: I pull really, really hard in a very determined manner, sometimes for quite some time before I move on to Phase II)

Maria: Are you sure Wimsey isn’t just towing? (Sometimes I am just towing for the heck of it and they let me do it because they think it might be a poop walk).

E: No, I think he is looking very poopish—he’s definitely gearing up for something major.

M: Look he’s stopping. Could this be it?

E: No—darn, just a leg lift. How disappointing. I hate when that happens. t’s so anticlimactic.

M: Look! Look! He’s doing the double back—he’s moved into Phase II! (In Phase II, I walk back and forth, to determine if a potential spot is really as appealing as I initially believed; sometimes I am forced to admit that my choice was deeply flawed and I move on. I always like to admit my mistakes and cut my losses—another area of superiority of The Hound)

E: Oh no! Wimsey’s seen another dog. He’s completely forgotten about The Mission (it is true

that I am easily distracted—a dog, a person, an appealing air current will cause me to temporarily suspend operations; sometimes it takes me quite a while to remember what I was doing, which leads to my humans to make pleading noises and to tout the desirability of various alternative locales. But I always remain unmoved; on such an important matter the final choice must be mine alone).

M: OK. He’s back to Phase I.

E: This looks promising—we’ve got a multiple double back.

M: Hurray! He’s begun the spin! Quick move in closer so we don’t miss a moment of this; I have a feeling this is going to be good.

E. Excellent—an outstanding first piece—a nice large size, perfectly formed, ideal consistency, good color. A real quality poop. Let’s see if he can keep it up.

M: Yes, look here it is—another really excellent piece.

E: Careful, he’s traveling a bit—stay with him now!

M: Another fine quality piece. And. yes, he’s done! He’s kicking dirt in my face.

E. Congratulations Wimsey! Well done! (Pats and handshakes all around at this point)

And their enthusiasm never seems to wane. Can you imagine the TV ratings-- not to mention the syndication rights! Of course, I am never permitted to thoroughly examine what they produce. But I am working on it.


Anyway, this Sunday we are in for more fun and games and Xtreme Show Handling at Freehold on the Jersey shore, so another Friday Bath Night looms. I understand that gelato from my favorite new stand, Grom (Broadway and 76th), might be in the offing. There is always a long line, but my humans patiently stand on it because they hate to disappoint me. Being a show dog is a ruff life.

Until next time,

Wimsey

Wimsey's Blog:Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry # 15
May 4th 2007

Hello everyone, it’s me Wimsey! As you can see I am experimenting with a new font and size for my diary. My human Maria and her friend Elizabeth have also been very preoccupied with fonts this week as it seems that since I am becoming such an important character I am to have my own business cards!

For all those font fanatics out there, it has been decided that Comic Sans is the Official Wimsey Font-- which, considering my propensity for playing jokes, (mostly of the painful physical kind), seems particularly appropriate. There appears also to be a font called “Baskerville” (as in hound of) and one called “Whimsy.” (I hate when people misspell my name). Now whilst neither of these fonts was deemed to have the requisite aesthetic appeal, their use was tempting nevertheless as they would have made a terrific “in joke”—assuming that I should ever have to give my card to an actual graphic artist, that is!

Now apparently it is not only graphic artists who know about fonts—it turns out that Maria is a veritable “font of knowledge” herself. Why? Who knows? It is not exactly like she is setting type in her apartment. She is very passionate about fonts-- she says they are fascinating (??!!) –second only to hounds, in fact. (I will magnanimously not comment on being compared to a font, but I have a gob of drool with her name on it). It was all, “Now Wimsey, don’t criticize. After all you find peeing on flowers interesting and I don’t. We are all different. Diversity makes life more interesting.” (funny how humans are so big on diversity yet they all pretty much look and act the same. Perhaps they should take a lesson from the Hound and breed some really big shaggy ones and some really small, smooth ones and maybe they could even develop some that bay properly or spin before they poop ((it is a little known fact that poop cannot happen without the spin—something to do with centrifugal force, I believe)). But of course life would be a lot more interesting if Maria would learn how to pump gas instead of studying fonts.

Oddly enough it was actually Elizabeth who selected the Comic Sans font and then called Maria to tell her the exiting news. Well, there was such squealing and squeaking that you would have thought that I had won Westminster! Actually, it turns out that, unbeknownst to Elizabeth (who in contrast doesn’t know a seraph from a sausage and thinks all fonts look pretty much the same) she had inadvertently selected Maria’s favorite font. Now anyone who cares enough about fonts to actually have a favorite one is in serious need of a life. How on earth am I ever going to find her a boyfriend?

Wingman Wimsey: Hello there nice smelling studly fellow who doesn’t mind clothes splotched with drool. May I introduce you to my human, Maria. She loves romantic walks on the beach, candlelight dinners and fonts.

I mean really. And not that Elizabeth is all that much better. She can tell you what Catherine of Aragon liked to eat for breakfast but doesn’t have the least idea how to operate a needle and thread; she even has to go to a tailor to get buttons sewn back on :

Tailor: But Madam, it’s only a button.

Elizabeth: I know. But can it be fixed?

They are quite a pair these two, no wonder they appreciate me so much—I can do so many useful things, like forcing them to focus on something other than fonts and Tudors, for instance.

Unlike my humans, we Hounds are nothing if not practical: if we see a vertical surface, we pee on it, if we see a human with two hands we poke at them to pet us, if we see something we fancy, we bay at it, if humans sit down, we sit on them, if they eat, we stick our noses in their food, if food appears in our food bowl, we sniff at it and give our humans a disdainful glance for failing to provide the filet mignon portion of the meal.

But having said all this, Maria is actually quite an excellent owner of a Hound (Elizabeth says this is because she doesn’t know any better having only had hounds instead of proper dogs).

The Wimsey Primer on Hound Ownership:

An owner of a Hound:

● Must be intelligent (someone has to be)

● Must have a sense of humor and think being humiliated is fun

● Must not mind coming in a distant third behind a Hound’s nose and stomach

● Must enjoy the sound of houndly concertizing

● Must not mind living in a drool coated abode

● Must not like designer clothing

● Must have a really good dry cleaner

● Must enjoy the fragrant and lingering odor of eau de hound that wafts everywhere the Hound has been

● Must not expect their commands to be taken seriously

● Must not mind the presence of the Hound’s nose, jowls and ears in their cereal bowls (we frequently don’t actually want to eat the food, just to smell it)

● Must enjoy the sights and sounds of shredding paper and fabric-- an important Hound hobby

● Must be guided in all things by the needs and requirements of The Hound


But I digress (Just like Marcel Proust! See entry # 14). We were originally talking about my business cards. Now that I have business cards and can be contacted, I am sure that all kinds of important people will be calling me for advice:

Secretary: Wimsey, here are today’s messages:

President Bush called: His terrier Barney ate the latest Middle East peace treaty—he wants to know if he should be punished. Also, if you have any ideas about how to get out of out of Iraq, he’d appreciate it.

Jacques Chirac called. He wants to know if you think he should vote Sego or Sarko.

Mayor Bloomberg called. Someone has been peeing on the flower beds in Central Park; he wants to know if you have any idea who that could be. Also someone is making cheap knock offs of the statue of Balto—he wants you to investigate.

Mark Burnett called. He wants to know if you have any interest in being on the next Survivor—the castaways need help finding food.

Donald Trump called. He wants to know if you will snuffle all the Miss USA contestants to see if they are using drugs. Also, he wants to know where you get your hair groomed.

Angelina Jolie called. She’s thinking about collecting Hounds instead of third world children and wants to know what you think.

Condoleeza Rice called. She wants to know if you’d consider being her wingman. Also she wants to know if you think peeing on Iran’s nuclear reactors would put them out of commission.

Tom Cruise called (Again) he wants to talk to you about scientology and how it can enhance your career.

Cesar Milan called—he wants to know if you want to book a session (I tossed this one out)

Oh yes, and Maria’s mother called. She wants you to stop making fun of her daughter. Also she said to say that Lucida Sans Unicode is a better font than Comic Sans.

I can hardly wait until my card is in everyone’s rolodex (electronic of course, I hate paper—it’s why I shred anything made of the stuff)!

Well before I return to the couch for more beauty rest, I just wanted to say that my show preparations are proceeding at a frenetic pace. It has been decided that Elizabeth is going to be my first show ring victim—she will be showing me in Trenton on Sunday and she is quite busy selecting suitable show ring attire (including shoes that she thinks will help keep her upright when I take off with her); Maria is boiling up fresh liver and both ladies think they are going to bathe me themselves before the show. That should be a show in itself. I have the feeling that I will have quite a lot to say next week!

Until then,

I remain,

Wimsey: a dog with business cards