Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #248

Entry #248

February 10, 2012

Hello Everyone, it’s me, Wimsey, coming to you from the home (if you ignore the whole New Jersey thing) of America’s Super Bowl heroes, The New York Giants. As a giant fellow myself, I was naturally happy to have the home team win and here on the Upper West Side of Manhattan people were pretty excited about it-- although my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth pretended not to be. While they both claimed to have watched The Puppy Bowl instead, I heard tell of sneak peaks into the progress of the game.

And speaking of puppy bowls, I staged one myself this Wednesday when my French bulldog puppy Pluto came over for a visit—he’s a lively little guy and always up for a bit of chase and WrestleMania, although I am afraid he looked like he had been in the shower by the time I was done with him. Drool is an excellent coat emollient.

But getting back to the Super Bowl, as everyone knows, the game itself often takes backseat to the snack and beer laden parties that are thrown in its honor. And then of course there are those entertaining commercials, which sometimes prove more riveting than the game itself. I had a few ideas for Hound commercials that I know people would enjoy watching:

Hound Super Bowl Commercials

1.The Loch Ness Monster. The Abominable Snowman. The Lost Continent of Atlantis. The Freedom No-Pull Harness. The world is full of myths. But our harness is very comfortable (at least for your Hound) and will give him the freedom from your control that he craves. And our harness has equal or superior no no pull properties to all those other no pull harnesses and validates your misguided belief that your Hound is controllable. Enjoy freedom from guilt that you are not trying to control your Hound while your Hound enjoys the real thing! (Dragging Hound and medical insurance not included).

2. Does your Hound refuse to sit, or to come when called or to drop that deceased rodent he’s just picked up? Want your Hound to listen to you? Get his attention with America’s #1 bribing turkey—Boar’s Head Low Salt. Your Hound still probably won’t listen to you but with a belly full of our turkey he’ll steal less of yours!

3. Does your Hound stink? Are your hands black from all the stuff he’s rolled in when you touch him? Get The GrimeInator—a shampoo guaranteed to get your Hound squeaky clean and de-stink him for a full 48 hours or your money back! (We said we’d get him that way not keep him that way).

4. Are your Hound’s ears gunky? Do they smell? Does he find an urgent need to scratch them when you give him an obedience command? The R-7 ear cleaning solution will solve 2 out of 3 of these problems! Just pour the solution down your Hound’s ear canals. Your Hound will thank you after you’ve untied him.

5. Does your Hound hate kibble? Does he prefer to eat your food, the food in the garbage bin or things that are not technically food at all? Holistic Select Anchovy Kibble—he’ll still hate it but he’ll enjoy breathing on you.

6. Can’t find a dog coat big enough for your giant Hound who doesn’t really need a coat except that people on the streets of New York yell at you if your dog isn’t wearing one and you don’t want to feel inferior to all those other people whose dogs are wearing cashmere, goose down and Prada? The Ruff Wear Giant Chartreuse Fleece coat is for you! A giant Hound is conspicuous; a giant Hound in chartreuse is unforgettable!

7. The Problem: your fanny pack has limited space and your Hound enjoys munching cookies during his extensive walks; failure to feed him the cookies he demands results in him walking sideways in front of you and poking at your pack with his muzzle until you trip. Or else he parks his 130lb posterior in front of you and refuses to move. The Solution: (no, not a dog trainer--that would be boring): Old Mother Hubbard Mini Dog Treats—you can fit hours worth of these tasty, compact snacks in your pack thus fulfilling your Hound’s gustatory needs whilst retaining your sanity!

8. Want to keep your Hound’s teeth in tiptop condition? Petrodex is the answer! An extra long tooth brush enables you to reach those back molars so your Hound can enjoy a nice chomp and crush and the delicious peanut butter toothpaste will have your Hound so preoccupied with using his strong, amazingly flexible tongue to lick it off that he will fail to notice when the brush connects with an actual tooth! Plus all that tongue wrestling will help your Hound build a tongue powerful enough to push you over when he is feeling affectionate and fast enough to snatch the most delectable morsels from your plate!

9. Have a Hound? Then Febreze is your friend. It won’t actually get rid of the stink but rather add some lovely fresh floral notes to the odor thus imparting the illusion that you are drifting through a lovely spring meadow accompanied by a really stinky Hound.

10. Grom Gelato: Gelato like it used to be for a Hound who is like he is now. Demanding, discerning and living with idiotic, besotted humans.

Well you get the idea. Anyway, I had a pretty entertaining week—there was Pluto of course and then I got to spend the afternoon at New York Vet Specialists being poked and prodded to make sure my occasional orthopedic issues were nothing to worry about. They aren’t and the x-rays of my hips and knees elicited oohs and ahhs of appreciation for their beauty. The doctor proposed that these episodes be treated with an anti-inflammatory drug (rolled in a quantity of turkey, naturally) and rest.

My humans had a good chuckle over the “rest” discharge orders which suggested walks be limited to those necessary for elimination—which in my case is always hours. It’s very difficult to explain to a vet who sees mostly small breeds that Bloodhounds are not really one of nature’s great resters (except when indoors where there is furniture upon which we can shed and spread stink). Trying to get me to go on a short walk against my will would result in 1) so much dragging that it would obviate the orthopedic benefit and 2) failure to eliminate properly such that I would need to go out shortly after I came in. Also Maria says she can’t afford to replace all the stuff I would destroy if I were deprived of my desired quota of outdoor time.

But this was also a week of discovery—I discovered a whole new area where pedicabs congregate and have put it on my daily route much to the delight of New York’s camera toting tourists who are attracted to the spot by my vociferous vocal stylings. Sadly these vocalizations seem to terrorize many of the pedicab drivers who mistake my joyful excitement for a desire to swallow them whole (the food they always seem to carry is an entirely different matter). And speaking of swallowing (or not) Elizabeth has remaining puzzled for some time by the unusual pattern, color and material that routinely appear on her couch. This week the mystery was solved after she observed my post-prandial amble over to the couch, my muzzle and flews brimming with water, drool, kibble crumbs and miscellaneous organic matter brought in from the park and my use of said piece of furniture as a napkin to tidy myself up. Not all of us are messy.

Anyway, for those of you who have never been to New York, one of the great joys of the city are the unexpected and unusual sights one might see— celebrities, pirates, film crews, giant city- dwelling baying Hounds, etc.—so imagine my delight as we walked down Central Park West when I beheld these two Revolutionary War soldiers! I spent quite a bit of time chatting with and inspecting these gentlemen who are as close to the real deal as one can get in 21^st century America. Far from being actors dressed in costumes made in China they are serious re-enactors (one of them is a history professor) carrying actual gear from the period and clothing fabricated using original material and methods. And I personally conducted an intensive investigation to determine if they were carrying any Revolutionary War treats.

The guys were in fact standing outside the New York Historical Society to call attention to an exhibit on African-American Revolutionary War soldiers, but this being New York, the home of blasé New Yorkers it was all “Ho hum, a couple of Revolutionary War soldiers. What else is new? Yikes! OMG! Look at that! It’s a Giant Bloodhound!!! I can’t believe it! I wonder what he’s doing here! Is there an exhibit about him! What’s his name? Can we touch him? Can we take his picture?” etc. I mean it was like Revolutionary War soldiers strolling the streets of the metropolis were a dime a dozen, but a Bloodhound…!

But New York for all its size is often like a village and I’ve been running into this little lady a lot—her name is Emily and she is a former shelter dog of Elizabeth’s acquaintance. When we meet she runs to Elizabeth for treats and I run to her human for a belly rub. (I wonder if there is a little Hound in her pedigree)?

Anyway, Monday and Tuesday is the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show and Elizabeth will be off helping at the ASPCA booth which means that she will miss celebrating most of Valentine’s Day with me. And as usual, both my boyfriend challenged humans will have me as their Valentine. But I am a much better Valentine than any guy because with my expectations are very low:

I will cheat on you

I will leave my stuff lying around on the floor

I am going to relentlessly fart, particularly in bed, and never apologize for it

I will wolf my food

I will slurp loudly when drinking

I will take food off of your plate even if you didn’t offer to share

I will belch at inopportune moments

I will not respect your privacy, especially when you are in the bathroom

I will interrupt you when you are talking

I will monopolize all social interactions

I will not listen to you when you talk

I will not seek your advice on matters relating to me

Your opinions are not important to me

Food is important to me

I will seek affection when I am in the mood and expect it to be forthcoming

I will ignore you when you want affection and I am not in the mood and expect you to go away

I will snore

I will make you look foolish

I will encourage you to buy me thoughtful gifts but not reciprocate

I am stubborn

I am self-centered

I am just not that into you

I am just really into me

I always have an excuse for everything—I am a Hound

So I am the perfect Valentine—you will never be disappointed and you won’t get fat from eating chocolates or sneeze from receiving flowers. I think that guys could learn a lot from Hounds—set the bar low. Very low.

Anyway, I think I will leave it there for this week. Hope your Valentine’s Day exceeds expectations—I know my humans’ will.

Until next time,

Wimsey, Everyone’s Valentine (except those that have to live with me).

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound #247

Entry #247

February 3, 2012

Hello Everyone, Wimsey here, coming to you from the balmy climes of New York’s Upper West Side where winter seems to have taken a powder—and not the kind I like to disport myself in (in winters past my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth have noted my uncanny knack for finding sections of fresh powder in the otherwise well traveled precincts of Central Park and then leaping about in it like a Lipizzaner on cocaine). For those of you who would like to revisit my winter frolics, take a look at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bnf0SfUmoS8.

Well it has been a pretty good week around here—I am relieved to have Elizabeth around again to make crazy during the day and hope she stays put for a while. Of course the new toys she brought me from Europe to assuage her guilt have been fun but I wish she had brought some of their snow instead.

And a catastrophic consequence of the warm weather was Elizabeth’s decision to bathe me on Monday afternoon. Now some would question the wisdom of trying to bathe a giant, reluctant Hound who is bigger than you are all on one’s own but I must admit she had a powerful (and pungent) reason to summon the courage to do so. I had simply passed over that dividing line from stinking to reeking which seems to have given her that surge of adrenaline and optimism necessary to accomplish the task. But in all fairness, she cheats by tying me to the masonry soap dispenser so escape would also entail bringing down an entire wall, something even I have yet to accomplish. And she has also perfected the art of scrubbing with one hand and feeding me bribing turkey with the other to decrease my escape incentive.

Well you can only imagine the mess I make—from the mounds of wet, hair imbedded towels to the flooded floor, to the walls and ceilings dripping with spikey Hound hairs, to the soaking wet human to say nothing of the state of the bathtub—so you can also easily imagine my humans’ consternation when they discovered yesterday (3 days post bath) that I stink again! So much work for so little result.

My stench producing capabilities are like the Eighth Wonder of the World and I am sure that if I had lived in ancient times I would have been venerated for my wizardry. In today’s world, however, I must merely content myself with the consternation that I cause my humans. And never one to rest on my laurels (or my generously proportioned tush) I continue to push the envelope of new ways to be disgusting—new smells, new secretions, new emissions! In fact, only yesterday Elizabeth had the temerity to eat a chocolate cupcake in front of me (knowing full well that she should have purchased a vanilla one that I could share) so I managed to simultaneously belch (did I mention I eat fish-based kibble?) and fart at her. I’m sure it enhanced the flavor of the cupcake.

Anyway, although the weather has been warm the 77th Street pedicab guys are on winter break which of course does not stop me from dragging my humans thither and inspecting the place minutely—you never know, they could be hiding in a crack. Having satisfied myself that they are in fact missing I then scour the park for new pedicab guys to annoy, terrorize or delight depending on their point of view. This week one of them stopped and was so charmed by me that he asked if he could take my picture (The answer to this question is unfortunately always yes, meaning that I am harassed not only by my humans’ camera but by those of complete strangers as well. Fortunately as with most things relating to me, turkey is involved). Anyway, a few more pedicabs showed up, then a group of people to watch (and listen) and all the ruckus ended up attracting a family who hired the original pedicab guy for a tour. I want a commission. Or else my humans need to go into the pedicab business.

It seems each day this week brought some special pleasure and Sunday was no exception when we ran into one of the heroes of the ASPCA’s Humane Law Enforcement department. There was much baying and admiring and picture taking and some insistence on my part for a ride along (which sadly went unrequited). If I am a tad obsessed with pedicabs, it is nothing compared to my obsession with police officers and what could be better than one who rescues animals! And now I know who to call when the elf hats and antlers appear. (And when Elizabeth is not off stalking bloodhounds at this year’s Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show she will be helping out at the ASPCA’s booth).

And then on Wednesday I had a visit from my French bulldog puppy, Pluto, which is always a lot of fun (at least for us). I keep close tabs on the little fellow to make sure anything he gets into is not something I also want to get into (we share a common love of the recyclables pile) and Elizabeth keeps close tabs on both of us. And there is nothing like his visit to bring out (or my humans would say further enhance) my bratty side:

- When Pluto picked up an old bone I haven’t touched in a year I felt an urgent need to take it away and chew it (Elizabeth felt an urgent need to take it away and put it in the closet).

- Similarly when Pluto wanted to play with one of my stuffed toys I too found I needed to play with it (and Elizabeth found she needed it to join my bone collection in the closet. Pluto and I did give her the collective stink eye over this but to no avail).

- Somehow Pluto’s presence stimulated my interest in my untouched bowl of kibble and I found to my delight that crunching kibble to the accompaniment of the little fellow’s protesting snorts and squeaks enhanced its flavor considerably. In fact it was so pleasurable that I decided to enjoy the experience twice.

- Normally Elizabeth’s consumption of a piece of fruit engenders nothing more active than a brief, exploratory nose twitch to ascertain that nothing desirable is being eaten in my presence. Pluto, however, is very fond of fruit, which somehow made it imperative that I join him in sharing Elizabeth’s apple. The fact that I spit a lot of it out all over the carpet had absolutely nothing to do with the necessity of its being fed in the first place.

Well all this was so much fun that Elizabeth kept trying to cajole me onto the futon to take my afternoon nap. When I finally decided to accede to her wishes Pluto found this course of action wholly objectionable and set up such an impressive display of play bowing, snorting and capering that I was finally forced to descend from the futon and chase the heck out of him. Elizabeth’s possessions went flying as a consequence, as did we. And the clever little fellow would dash under the furniture where I couldn’t get at him and then come shooting out again to start the game anew. And there was much throwing myself on the ground (a necessity when one is 130 lbs. and one’s adversary is a mere 25) and wrestling upside down with lots of succulent drool on my part and sonorous snorting on his. Sadly for Elizabeth it was too early for the gin.

And yesterday was Groundhog Day (I approve of any animal with the word “hog” in its name, although we Hounds are not only ground hogs but are also bed hogs, food hogs ((food being loosely interpreted)) and furniture hogs) and regardless of what the beasts say the flowers in Central Park have started to come up (the increase in vegetative vertical surfaces always being a much anticipated event around here) so I am betting on an early spring. But Groundhog Day is a strange custom—I mean if you woke up a Hound and it saw its shadow it would drag you to the park. And if you woke it up and it didn’t see its shadow it would still drag you to the park. Or it might eat your stuff or steal your food or sit in your lap or fling drool in your face. So pretty much if it’s sleeping you should probably leave it alone because the alternatives are going to be worse. But the movie Ground Hog Day is one of my humans’ favorites since living with a Hound is a lot like the movie where the same day is lived over and over again (for the uninitiated I spend my day with my spare human Elizabeth who takes me for my midday walk and brings me to her apartment and then both my humans and I go out for my after work walk, then I go home):

Wimsey’s Bloodhog Day

Good morning! Here’s some drool and wrinkles and my cold nose! It’s time to walk me.

I don’t want to go that way; I want to go this way.

I’m not finding the exact right spot in which to poop. Let’s walk some more.

Was I supposed to poop? I thought I was supposed to play with those dogs, chase that squirrel, crunch that water bottle and find that guy eating the Danish.

I found a place to poop! Too bad it’s through that fence where you won’t be able to pick it up; but the city can use the $250 fine.

How come there is just kibble in my bowl?

What are you eating?

Going to work? Don’t care—it’s time for my morning nap.

Is it noon already? You and what army are going to get me off this bed.

Rub my belly.

OK, I am on the couch now so brush my teeth with that peanut butter stuff.

Using the bathroom before we go out? You can scratch my head while you’re taking care of business. It’s called multitasking.

Time to go out? No, it’s time to rub my belly

I’ll let you put on my collar and harness if you feed me a cookie. Otherwise you can rub my belly.

OK, I’m leashed up. Open this door now! Why are you so slow!

Ahroooo Everyone in Building—especially yappy dog upstairs—I’m going out for my walk now!

Which park should we go to?

I want to go to the other one.

Hey, you there with the grocery bag—I want to have a look in there.

Ahrooo. Why is this light still red? I want to cross!

If you didn’t want my nose in your butt you shouldn’t have worn leggings.

Hey you-- Little Dog! I’m coming over to say hello. Hiding behind your human won’t help. I know you’re there.

Stop yelling! It’s only a little drool.

The running board on that SUV looks like a good place to poop.

I want the pedicabs!

I want to go into the Lake and play with the ducks!

I want to go into the police car and play with the cops!

There’s food in that stroller—don’t let it get away!

Yes you can take my picture providing my human feeds me turkey.

Leaving the park so soon! It’s only been two hours.

Not moving.

Crowd thinks you’re mean for trying to get me to leave the park.

I hate leaving the park. I’m going to bay at someone and scare them.

Why do you keep saying “Wimsey No!” You know I don’t know what that means.

What do you mean I have to use the service elevator in this building?

What’s for lunch?

I’ll have what you’re having.

Time for my nap. You’d better open the windows, eggs make me gassy.

If you have an important call to make, I’ll postpone my nap so I can squeak my toy.

Nap time over. I want to be scratched now. Get your hands off that computer. Here’s my head.

Where’s my other human—it’s time for our after work walk.

What do you mean I have to use the service elevator in this building?

There’s my other human! I’m going to try to knock her down.

My baying echoes in this lobby! Wonder why people are so nervous.

Lots of tasty looking rats out tonight!

What! You want to turn around and go home? It’s only been an hour!

What do you mean my other human has to go home?

Dinnertime. Why is there just kibble in this bowl?

TV? No. Belly rub.

You can’t watch TV if I’m sitting in front of it.

That book looks delicious.

A walk before bed? No thanks. I’m comfy.

You dragged me out, you pee!

You want to get into this bed? Wrestle you for it.

Good morning! Here’s some drool and wrinkles and my cold nose! It’s time to walk me.

Well you get the idea. Anyway, before I sign off for the week it would be remiss of me not to note that the city is in the throes of Giants fever. Of course it would be better if Giant Stadium wasn’t actually in New Jersey--New Yorkers in general taking a dim view of anything emanating from that state—but since they are winning the New Jersey angle is conveniently forgotten. Supermarkets are running out of snack foods and men on the street are selling silly hats. We all of course will be watching The Puppy Bowl. Providing of course that none of the puppies are from New Jersey.

Until next time,

Wimsey, the Everything Hog