Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry # 101
January 9, 2009

Hello everyone, Wimsey here coming to you from Manhattan’s Upper West Side where the frosty weather continues pretty much unabated. Now I enjoy this excellent frisky-making weather but my delicate human Maria and her friend Elizabeth are starting to wish for a little more global warming, especially as the wind has been howling. The only thing that should be howling is me, although technically I bay (I actually do get quite annoyed when people refer to my beautiful melodious baying as howling)--something I have been doing quite a lot of lately. Especially last Sunday when we dropped by Petco for some more food (amazing how fast those 30lb bags seem to disappear—perhaps the winter weather is giving me a hollow tail) and as you can see below I did a little shopping myself. Unfortunately I was unable to give free rein to the process as a consequence of being forced to wear the heinous Gentle Leader. My humans seem to think that I might vandalize Petco. I can’t imagine why. Anyway, I was allowed to select something on account of it just being a day when I was looking exceptionally cute (I should have a present every day by that criteria) so I selected this fantastic duck. Now this duck, it spoke to me. And I spoke to it. All the way down Broadway I bayed furiously at it (my range on Sunday was noted by an admiring pedestrian as being a true basso profondo, which is a tad lower than my usual bass baritone-- but my non-opera savvy humans generally just refer to my lower ranges as my basso peevo) to come out and play, until finally it did!

And of course I have to have this duck with me at all times so it’s been all “Do you think the duck is Wimsey’s familiar?” I sleep with it, I carry it about, and it keeps me company whilst I root through my kibble for the leftovers that Elizabeth so thoughtfully provides. Now although all this might be charming to some, it is proving rather inconvenient to Maria as it is her policy to ignore and avoid me when I am messing about with a valuable object—(like a duck)—under the theory that this will discourage any houndly tendency towards fear guarding. But I must say that I am having quite a lot of fun with this concept as every time she wants to do something to me that I am not prepared to have done—say like trying to put on my walking equipment when I am more in the mood for bed lounging—I brandish the duck! And once I even put the duck on the path to the bathroom to stop her from sneaking in there to get away from me—isn’t that the purpose of bathrooms? Perhaps if I put it the duck front of the refrigerator I can sell it as a new diet aid.

Anyway now Maria has been wailing into her cell phone every night to Elizabeth “We’ll be late again this evening, Wimsey’s got the duck!” And I have been trying to keep Maria off of the bed by placing the duck on it—she has the couch and the floor to sleep on after all and a queen sized bed is really only just big enough for a giant Hound—but this has resulted in the luring of me with Yummy Chummies whilst some surreptitious duck re-positioning occurs. Personally I think Maria might be a vampire in disguise and the duck is her stand-in for the silver cross and clove of garlic. So now every evening this week, in addition to giving Elizabeth the detailed and ever fascinating daily poop report in which the number, size, texture and location are gone into at great length, she also gives the daily duck report, exhaustively detailing all the ways in which the duck has inconvenienced her. She even used a word that rhymes with duck. But I do love my duck—I haven’t even begun to shred it yet. And as I said it speaks to me:

Things my stuffed duck tells me as opposed to things my human tells me:

Duck: You are unbelievably handsome.
Human: You are unbelievably bratty.

Duck: I love it when you lay on top of me.
Human: Wimsey if you don’t get off me I’m calling the police.

Duck: I love it when you wipe your wet wrinkled muzzle all over my body.
Human: Wimsey I have an umbrella and I am not afraid to open it.

Is it any wonder that I love my duck. It looks on me with great approbation when I stick my nose into Maria’s food and it takes up much less room in bed than she does. And of course, it has become a wonderful training tool to modify my human’s behavior. I think I too should have a TV training show:

The Wimsey Show

Wimsey Millan: I am Wimsey Millan. How can I help you?

Hound client: My human hogs the couch.

Wimsey Millan: Shocking. And does she ever push you off of it and guard it?

Hound client: Yes, especially when she is snacking on things that I will steal.

Wimsey Millan: This is a red zone case. Did you try shoving her off?

Hound client: Yes, but she has this annoying habit of climbing back on again.

Wimsey Millan: Are you sure you are shoving her off in a calm assertive way and not in an angry and annoyed way? Humans can read your energy, so when shoving it is very important not to display any animosity. You must shove calmly. It's your couch--you must claim it.

Hound client: Yes. I very firmly plant my huge paws in the small of her back and shove in a decidedly calm manner—I don’t even engage in any nipping.

Wimsey Millan: Well are you baying at her? You know humans don’t really understand our language so it is better to use your body and remain calmly quiet.

Hound client: Well perhaps I am baying a bit.

Wimsey Millan: Also you could poke her in the neck and snort at her when she tries to get back up. But let’s see what my rival TV trainer recommends.

Wimsey Stilwell: Hello. I am Wimsey Stilwell and as a client you are an idiot by definition and are very lucky that I am here to help you.

Hound client: I’ve never seen a Hound dressed entirely in black leather before. Is there a point to it?

Wimsey Stilwell: Well apart from intimidating people and making me look even more evil, it keeps me from having any contact with saliva, drool, hair, poop, pee or any other canine secretion. But of course I love dogs. Anyway, I am here to help and I will succeed unlike that inhumane beast with the higher ratings, Wimsey Millan. First there will be no shoving. Every time your human hogs the couch I want you to steal a delicious treat—like say that evening’s dinner—and place it on the floor just out of reach of the couch. When your human gets up to try to salvage the meal, stretch across the couch, blocking access and thump your tail furiously and look as cute as possible.

Hound client: But....

Wimsey Stiwell: Be quiet. You are an idiot. I am the trainer. Now, as I was saying-when your human approaches give her a lick (although I personally think it’s disgusting that humans like their canines to be affectionate). This will positively reinforce the staying off the couch behavior. And you must be consistent—every time your human chooses to sit somewhere else, beam at them appreciatively and thump your tail. Humans have a natural instinct to please their Hounds and I think that even though you are a clueless idiot you will find that there will be no more couch hogging. OK, now time for a nice hot decontaminating shower,

Well some people might say that I am spoiled, but of course that is ridiculous—it is impossible to spoil a Hound—our sense of entitlement is too great. Nothing you give us is really ever enough. We deserve so much more! But in any case I did start to feel a bit sorry for Maria and yesterday actually presented her with the duck to try and help her overcome her aversion to it. And of course like all males I am a bit fickle and already have my eye on an alluring hedgehog that was calling to me from the next aisle.

But all things considered it’s been a good week—I got to play with that model canine Bruno the Rottweiler again—he likes to lick the drool from my muzzle which is gratifying to my humans as it means there is less of it to end up on them. And I did make a new friend on Sunday—her name is Brooke and isn’t she a beauty. Below are some pictures of us playing.

Well it is once again time to toddle off to view the collection at The Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art. Today we revisit La Belle France, the ancestral home of the St. Hubert Hounds (please, no howling from Belgium—regrettably Belgium did not exist at the time of the Crusades when French knights brought my ancestors to the monks of St. Hubert in the Ardennes. Given the political system at the time, claiming French origin is the best I can do; besides it accounts for my cultivated nature as evidenced by my appreciation for fine food and femmes). Anyway, we are looking today at Young Lady in 1866 (Edouard Manet, 1866 Metropolitan Museum, New York). Now many people think that Manet painted this picture because his buddy Courbet had a success in the Salon of 1866 with Woman with a Parrot. Of course in Courbet’s painting the woman with the parrot was naked and lying suggestively on her back-- which may have had something to do with its success. Anyway, hopping on the parrot train, Manet painted his (fully) clothed friend and model Victorine Meurent with her parrot confidant. Victorine, by the way was no stranger to the unclothed and the erotic—although she looks starchy here she was the model for Manet’s quintessential odalisque, Olympia. But anyway, this parrot appears to be looking at something quite fixedly which is very puzzling. But when we insert a large, luminescent Hound, the object of his gaze becomes clear! Who would not gaze with such intensity at so large and magnificent a Hound, especially if the parrot suspects that at any moment the Hound might turn his attention from thinking about eating what is in the woman’s hand to thinking about eating him! Well, the parrot clearly lacks the allure of the duck, but it gives us Wimsey and a Young Lady in 1866.

Well that is all for this week. Time to watch the ladies bundle up for a windy walk. Perhaps I will take my duck along tonight.

Until next time,

Wimsey the quack Hound

Wimsey's Blog:Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry # 100
January 2, 2009

Hello Everyone. It’s me Wimsey, the New Year’s Bloodhound, coming to you from the frigid confines of Manhattan’s Upper West Side. We’ve had quite an arctic blast here the last few days and it was so cold that it even forced my human Maria take extreme measures and borrow one of her friend Elizabeth’s ugly Michelin Man arctic parkas-- Elizabeth possessing an extensive wardrobe of these figure flattering items. I don’t know if Maria will repeat the experience any time soon, as although the jacket kept her warm she was displeased with the immobility entailed in trying to trundle along in the thing whilst keeping up with me. (Who knew that down could weight so much!) I of course eschew outerwear of any variety as inhibitory to my naturally lively bloodhound spirits. Besides I keep quite warm running about and vigorously towing, much to the dismay of my humans who alternately sweat and freeze. All part of the joys of Winter Wimsey.

But in spite of the nature of my forceful opinions on the subject of Hound couture, an attempt was made this week to introduce me to the benefits of canine footwear. It was all “What do you mean Jimmy Choo doesn’t make giant Hound booties?” and “Maybe if Wimsey has his own boots he’ll leave mine alone.” Consequently an assortment of elegant footwear was assembled for my inspection and approval as you can see in this week’s bootie montage (which, unlike my usual bootie montage, doesn’t consist of pictures of my actual bootie which I like to present whenever the heinous camera makes its dreaded appearance). Well as you can see, I look quite handsome posing with this array of booties but I became quite peeved when the things were actually put on my feet—especially as I thought they were brought in for my chewing pleasure. The ladies have been urged by Gus of the Yukon’s human to try again—this heroic human regularly shods 12 Hound feet and lives to tell the tale for which she may deserve even more of a medal than she does for living in Fairbanks, Alaska in the winter.

And on the subject of the actual number of Hound feet to be shod, when Elizabeth (this alleged fount of canine knowledge) was assembling the booties she apparently chose them in pairs until some wise soul pointed out that as dogs are usually quadrupeds their boots generally come in fours. Ooops. She forgot! I suppose I should be flattered that she thinks I am human, but somehow I am not at all flattered. That is not to say that I don’t have my bipedal moments—for instance, in order to inflict maximum auditory pain it is necessary for me to stand on two legs and bay into someone’s ear—but generally I prefer to stick to the traditional number of legs, particularly as they confer extra towing traction.

Well otherwise it has been quite a week—the New Year is upon us and I can hardly believe that this my 100th post and that I have actually been annoying people in print for close to two years. Of course I like to think that my musings serve the purpose of enhancing people’s appreciation of their own dogs (“Well, Fido did steal my socks and try to eat the cat but at least he’s not Wimsey.”). And on the subject of the anti-Wimsey, I did run into my extraordinary buddy Bruno the Rottweiler a few weeks ago. Now although I love Bruno and we engage in epic wrestling matches, he always leaves my humans viewing me with a jaundiced eye. He’s rather like that annoying classroom paragon so beloved of parents, who gets straight A’s, never misbehaves and has beautiful manners. Bruno is mostly off his leash because his attentiveness and obedience skills make a leash superfluous. Also he assists his human by carrying her groceries home. Meat containing groceries. Meat containing groceries that he doesn’t take off with and snarf under a bush. And then it’s all “Look Wimsey Bruno is actually useful. Why can’t you be useful?” But of course I am useful—I keep my humans well exercised, prevent them from consuming too much food and make sure they don’t get above themselves—but they see me as just a lily of the field. But oddly enough Bruno’s human is a big fan of mine—perhaps very much like the parents of the straight A student who look with envy and approbation upon the brainlessly handsome and universally popular school athlete. The grass is always greener, etc (except that in the case of Hounds where we mostly make it browner). Anyway, I have always fancied being a tougher breed of dog (like a Rottweiler!) so below is a picture that I think makes me look quite Rottie-like. (although Bruno looks tough, he actually rescued two abandoned kittens that he found by carrying them to his owner and has apparently raised them to be fine upstanding dog bed sharing felines; a lovely story which unfortunately elicited more “why can’t you be more like Bruno” jaundiced looks from my humans).

But then again everyone loves a naughty dog—just as long as it belongs to someone else. Like on all the dog training TV shows my humans have been watching because there is nothing on on all 200 TV channels during the holidays. For those who haven’t seen these shows, they come in two main varieties: Cesar Millan who is very nice and charming and smiles and asks “How can I help you?” And then he tells the people that the dog is fine but that they are mentally unhinged or Victoria Stilwell who is not charming doesn’t smile and is very mean and informs people “Here is how I will help you”. And then she tells the people that the dog is fine but that they are mentally unhinged. Personally I love the fact that nothing is ever the dog’s fault, which means my humans have cleverly trained me to drag them down the stairs at a dangerous rate of speed, stick my nose in their food, pin them to the sofa, shove them off the bed, shatter their ear drums with my baying and eat their dirty underwear. I also note that Hounds seldom figure very prominently in these dog training shows—probably because the trainers know better. But I would like to see new canine events geared more towards Hounds such as:

The Hound Fantasy Show Ring

The Entrance: Hounds drag handlers into the ring and show off their form to the judge by pacing or galloping about. Points deducted for orderly trotting.

The Line Up: Hounds stick their noses into the butt of the Hound in front of them or air scent or call noisily to their friends. Male Hounds attempt to make a love connection. Points deducted for keeping feet and noses in one place.

The Examination: Hounds drag their handlers over to the judge to be gone over individually. They dance around while their handlers attempt to stack them, fling drool on the judge, lean on him affectionately or roll over so he can give them a belly rub. Points deducted for standing quietly and looking regal.

The Down and Back: Here the Hound can really shine as an individual—displaying the lumbering quality of his pace or the wild energy of his gallop. Extra points are awarded for stylish maneuvers such as climbing out of the ring and into the lap of a spectator or knocking down the judge.

The Once Around: Here the judge gets his final look at the group of Hounds. It is important for the Hound to demonstrate his superior Houndiness by either gluing his nose to the ground during gaiting whilst his handler struggles futilely to get him to pick up his head or charges forward to engage the Hound in front of him in a noisy game of chase. The lead male Hound has a big advantage in the Once Around as he is in an excellent position to race up to the last female Hound and begin producing the next generation of Hounds.

Hound Fantasy Obedience Ring

Heel on Leash and Figure Eight: Here the handler runs to catch up with the towing Hound and hopes that the interesting scent the Hound is following makes the shape of an eight.

Stand for Examination: The Hound must stand in position and demonstrate neither shyness nor resentment towards the judge: extra points are awarded should the Hound choose the upright position and slime the judge in the face.

Heel Free: Here the handler races really, really fast to catch up with the unleashed Hound and tries to herd it into a figure eight.

Recall: The Hound listens attentively to the command to come and then promptly moves off in the opposite direction or lies down for a nap.

The Long Sit and Long Down: The Hound is placed in a sit or a down and remains there for a full sixteen nanoseconds. Alternatively, the creative Hound can decide to execute the interminable sit or interminable down whereby he decides he is comfortable and refuses to move.

Retrieve on the Flat: The handler throws a dumbbell and the Hound makes off with it (also known as Stealing on the Flat)

Retrieve Over High Jump: Here the Hound approaches the jump, knocks it over and chews it up before stealing the dumbbell.

And lest you think this is all impossible to achieve, I myself have actually performed many of the feats described in the fantasy show ring! (perhaps this has something to do with why I am not being shown at Westminster this year). I think I would excel equally in obedience competition but my humans are curiously reluctant to try. (“Perhaps if they awarded ribbons for disobedience…”) But below is a special treat—Maria found two of my baby pictures including one in stack position with my breeder Lily Luster. I was already showing my championship form (I am after all Ch. Ewine Ramsey Creek’s Wimsey—I may be a badly behaved bloodhound, but I am a handsome one!). I probably have not stacked as well since (I was too young when this was taken to appreciate how much fun one can have dancing around in the stack).





OK, well it is now time to pace on over to the Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art where the current weather conditions have induced me to select an idyllic summer scene painted by Monet: Woman Seated on a Bench (Claude Monet, 1874, Tate Museum, London). While it is always refreshing to see a Monet painting that does not involve water lilies, I must confess that this painting has always struck me as odd. The woman in question looks so immobile and static. Also there is so much unoccupied room on the bench considering it is such a nice day (notice how strongly the loose, imprecise brush strokes convey the lushness of a summer’s day and the dappling of sunlight on the bench). But with the insertion of a magnificent (if somewhat rude) Hound, all is explained! The woman is not immobile by choice. She cannot move with the heavy burden of a Hound on her legs. We sense that at any moment the Hound will sprawl across her lap and settle in for a satisfying chew on her parasol, an element which adds drama to this otherwise rather placid scene. Wimsey Seated on A Woman Seated on a Bench.

That’s all for this week. Happy New Year Everyone!

Until next time,

Wimsey the non-paragon of canine virtue

Wimsey's Blog: Diary of a Manhattan Bloodhound

Entry #99
December 26, 2008

Hello Everyone. It’s me Wimsey wishing you a happy Boxing Day from Manhattan’s currently soggy Upper West Side. Fortunately my human Maria and her friend Elizabeth managed to keep any boxes out of my reach, (although I can’t say the same for the plastic water bottle that I dug out of the recyclables when the ladies were otherwise occupied). Now the term Boxing Day is supposed to have originated in jolly old England (where Elizabeth spent many a boring Boxing Day moping around with friends nursing hangovers and fruitlessly hunting for something to watch on telly in order to forestall the inevitable joys of playing board games and waiting for it not to be Boxing Day) where employers were said to give gifts to their household help and to the under privileged in general (Christmas boxes) on the day.

But of course for we Hounds every day is Boxing Day, especially yesterday when I tried to climb onto Maria’s lap whilst she was imbibing a cocktail and eating fancy cheese-- although it was not technically boxing since she was not fully able to use her hands-- but it was all “Quick! It’s Woman vs. Hound” and there was so much merriment that I actually had her pinned for a while. Laughter is always the friend of the Hound as it seems inimical to the effective execution of anti-Hound maneuvers. Anyway, I had a lovely Christmas bath (NYC has been such a slush fest this week that I was beginning to smell rather like a swamp), a fine cooked meal of mixed poultry and was finally awarded my giant Christmas candy cane rawhide. And we were also forced to watch Elizabeth’s favorite Christmas movie, Christmas in Connecticut, about a woman who writes a weekly magazine column (isn’t that the ancient version of a blog?) and has no domestic skills. Hmm…

But there is really nothing that puts one in the mood for Christmas so much as a week of slush filled towing, except that before the snow was slush it was ice, which made me feel quite reindeer-like as my traction challenged humans glided gracelessly and somewhat noisily behind my every tug of the leash. My photos this week are somewhat gloomy looking due to the overcast conditions, but I was able to get in a good romp nonetheless. And my humans discovered this stuff (yet another item of mine for them to carry!) called Paw Pro (http://www.drsfostersmith.com/product/prod_display.cfm?pcatid=13540) from Drs. Fosters and Smith to protect my dainty feet from the vicissitudes of the salt and ice with which New York City streets abound. Unlike musher’s wax, Paw Pro sprays on, which is frankly a much easier proposition than thinking about tinkering with my massive “messing resistant” paws. But there is still talk of trying to fit me with boots under the theory that as I am an idiosyncratic Hound I might actually like wearing them. I would stay tuned on that one.

And while I am on the topic of useful products, a few weeks ago I was sent a bowl to evaluate called the DogPause (www.dogpausebowl.com) that is designed to slow down fast feeding canines. Now as it happens I am a rather slow and methodical eater (very un-Hound like I know, but we bloodhounds are famous for either being voracious or finicky and not much in between—it’s more annoying that way) as I employ the pig nose style of eating. For those of you unfamiliar with the technique, the pig nose style of eating consists of me resting my prominent proboscis on the rim of the food bowl and delicately using my tongue to scoop up the contents of the bowl. It is a laborious and time consuming process—especially as my drool generally seems to promote the adhesion of the food to the bottom of the bowl. The pig nose method also requires the use of a feeding station (when I eat at Elizabeth’s she becomes the feeding station by dint of sitting on the floor and holding the bowl steady in her lap—otherwise I just push the unanchored bowl all over her kitchen making both a racket and even more of a mess-- just another one of the many wonderful habits that make me such a delightful houseguest and yet another reason that Elizabeth assiduously looks after the health of Maria). So I sent the bowl over to one of the kennel attendants at the animal shelter where Elizabeth volunteers—the woman adopted a dog whose blitzkrieg eating style was making her a candidate for both the Guinness Book of records and a roaring case of bloat. Well the bowl was a huge success (“When I first put down the kibble filled pause bowl Sheba looked at it strangely. Normally she begins to inhale the food before I even set the bowl down! She then began eating each compartment. It took her about four times as long to eat from this bowl than it did with her old bowl which makes me ecstatic! I really like how deep each compartment is because it creates obstacles in finding every last piece of kibble.”). So if you’ve got a chomper of a canine of anywhere from 15-150 lbs. you might want to give it a shot.

Now before we leave the subject of Christmas entirely, I just want to say that is has come to my attention that the well organized Newfoundland people established a nationwide secret Santa program this year and I have been viewing pictures of lively newfs ripping open treat and toy containing boxes and envelopes from around the country. I think a Secret Santa, Hound Edition would be an excellent idea, however I suspect that the presents would be somewhat different:

Gift Items For a Hound Secret Santa

It’s All in Your Head! Every Hound owner needs their head examined and this gift--sessions with the psychotherapist of your choice-- will make it all possible! Explore your deep seated need to be humiliated by your Hound and see how his sense of entitlement can leave you devoid of both dignity and possessions!

A luxurious Caribbean cruise! A deluxe two week cruise for two for you to give away to someone without Hounds. Enjoy your fill of vicarious sun and fun and drinks with umbrellas through the wonders of video and email.

A $5,000 gift certificate to LL Bean good for a wide selection of snow boots, rain boots, mud boots, slush boots and waterproof Hound jackets and coats of every weight and design. Included: a bonus “poop finder” baseball cap with an LED light for locating your Hound’s gifts on even the darkest nights.

Baggies Baggies Baggies! A year’s supply of super sized baggies for those larger than life moments in your Hound’s career. Strong yet supple these baggies are designed for maximum tactility and “hand feel” permitting the most accurate assessment of the state of your Hound’s bowels yet!

Merry Maids Gift Package: For the Hound lover whose friends and family refuse to visit for hygienic reasons. Merry Maids will help reduce the stench, drool and hair to levels experienced by ordinary dog owners. See how the other half lives!

Gardens of Delight: No moonscape is too great a challenge for these fellows. Holes, uprooted bushes, shredded flower beds, mounds of ossified Hound soil—they fix it all!

Furniture Madness! Has that special someone in your life eaten your furniture? Never fear—a visit to out warehouse will replace it all (electronics extra).

It’s raining orthopedists! A free year’s worth of visits to your local friendly orthopedic doctor—including one deluxe trip to the emergency room and one outpatient surgery—to help ease the pain of Hound ownership.

Well, I think a Hound secret Santa would be very much appreciated. Anyway, this week my humans made a visit to the Museum of Natural History, ostensibly to see the horse exhibit which is to close soon, but really to ogle the fascinating creatures in the Hall of Dinosaurs (I would love to be that big!). But there is a little visited section of the museum that they missed:

The Hall of Hounds

Houndus filchus minimus: An extremely small primordial Hound: these were Hounds so small that they were able to steal and destroy things early man didn’t even know he owned. This probably contributed to their longevity.

Houndus larcenus minor: A primordial small Hound: these Hounds were able to steal and destroy items people knew they had but often justified the loss of because the items were so small (“He’s only eaten all of my shoelaces—I am sure I can just glue my shoes on my feet. And after all, he is very cute”). When used for hunting these Hounds were known for finding prey so small and unappetizing-- newts, rats and centipedes for instance-- that no one else wanted to eat them. Their cuteness was sometimes marred by the resultant obesity.

Houndus loudus: A primordial medium sized Hound: these were robust Hounds that could strip and eat a hut in record time. Consequently early man was forced to give them something else to do, like hunting in loud noisy packs. Then it was discovered that fellow early men would pay large sums of meat to follow along and be entertained by watching the loud noisy packs try to hunt. Pack owners prospered and ended up owning most of England as a consequence.

Houndus wimseii: The stellar exhibit in the Hall of Hounds, Houndus wimseii is the forerunner of the modern large Hound. He was a magnificent looking creature-- as much prized for his looks as he was for his abilities—his destructive powers were the stuff of legend—whole villages fell to the ravages of these beasts, but fortunately no one seemed to mind much because they were of unsurpassed cuteness. Houndus wimseii was known to be relentless in the pursuit of the things it wanted—largely things already owned by someone else—but his interests did occasionally include the tracking of meaty animals, wherein at the conclusion of the chase he would graciously allow the attendant humans to actually do the messy work of food preparation for him. Houndus wimseii liked to be served, a characteristic he has passed down to his modern descendants.

And speaking of museums, it is time once again time for our visit to the Wimsey Institute of Houndish Art. Today in honor of my fine Christmas meal we are going to view the work of a rather obscure 18th century French painter (the 18th century being noted for its excellence in the production of obscure painters) Jean-Baptiste Oudry. Now French 18th century art is the century that brought us the gooey delights of the rococo and other types of sentimental art not usually admired here at the Wimsey Institute. However, Jean-Baptiste Oudry was the official court painter of the hunt! He spent his career raking in the francs by painting pictures of the stuff Louis XV killed—hardly the masterworks to excite the curatorial soul. But he did paint lots of (temporarily) live animals and among his oeuvres was this piece which seemed very appropriate to display: Ducks Resting in the Sunshine (Jean-Baptiste Oudry, 1753, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York). But it really makes no sense that these ducks were just hanging out (especially in France, home of duck a l’orange and hard hunting French monarchs) and the scene has a rather static quality to it. But see how the addition of a magnificent rampaging Hound who is about to catch his dinner adds to the drama and the dynamic quality of the painting! Ducks in the Sunshine About to Be Eaten By Wimsey. (I wonder if my humans would consider hiring a court painter to paint my dishes of kibble?)

Well until next time—hope everyone has a Happy New Year!

Wimsey the Christmas Gift