ELVIS!

9/23/23

Elvis died on Wednesday.  Tuesday night was a rough night, but not all that strange – Elvis had to get up a couple of times to go to the bathroom – but at 77 – that’s what old dogs do.  Wednesday morning came early.  I help Elvis downstairs, make a coffee, and sit at my desk to feverishly work to fill some void that I fell inside – it was one of those days with one of those feelings that cannot be fulfilled – maybe it was a premonition.  I feed Elvis, shower, and as I dash out the door, I notice that Elvis had not yet devoured his breakfast – rather he’s sitting in front of it and staring – definitely strange!  I go to 8:30 mass and head to get fingerprinted for a teaching assignment, but audible to come back home and check on Elvis.  I arrive and Elvis is in my office, and when I call him, he comes like a good boy, but his front legs wobble as he staggers to me – remembering that makes me sad.  That was the last time I would call Elvis and the last time Elvis would come.

Elvis died today and I can’t stop crying.  Those Elvis eyes – what runt of a mutt with a jet black coat and a cleft palate to boot would come out with those steel-blue eyes . . . . . must be Elvis – hey, I’ve never seen the dog and the singer in the same room at the same time!  

It was a rainy night in Dale City the first time I saw him snoozing on his side like a pink-bellied piglet.  They said there were three dogs – the baby-heffer who became Addie, the caramel wolverine we politely passed on – and the tiny hump of a lump on the couch oblivious to the commotion, asleep on his side.  If you weren’t looking for three, you’d only see two.  “Who’s that guy?”

Oh, he’s the best of the bunch!

And when they added that there may be complications with the cleft in his lip you could barely see because Elvie was so small – I knew he was the one.

Phil and I went out to Dale City looking for 1 dog and we came back with 2 – Addie and Elvis.  I grew up with a cat and I bet Phil was a bird-guy – so we had the brainy idea to throw Addie and Elvis in the bathroom on a cool tile floor with a couple towels, some food and drink, and hope for the best.  Like a cute new father – I couldn’t sleep a wink and when I ventured in to see the newest members of our condominium family – it was like slither – our dogs got worms.  I freaked out, but they seemed fine and ready to play.  So they played with anything and everything on their puppy plane – sock, shoe, underwear, each other, me – they played until their little hearts were content, would crash mid-play, and then popped back to life an hour later to do it again – it was 100 to 0 and back to 100.

The night was beautiful – an unforgettable and magical night – these two new nuggets exploring their whole new world as I keep the night vigil reading Plutarch’s Caesar.  Morning didn’t have to come, but she always does – so with no a leash, much less 2 leash, Phil and I throw the pups in a pilfered grocery basket, and out back we head for the nuclear family’s first morning doody!

A half-day at school was enough – we needed to get the mutt-pups to the vet – for the sake of the bathroom scene!  After shots, pills, percentiles – our dogs were healthy – and then the vet noticed Elvis’ hair-lip – 

You paid money for this dog??? 

The line shook me as much as it probably shook the vet after it came out.  He then went on to explain how clefts can be difficult and that most dogs like Elvis are put down because of complications and cost.  Like Indie from the Last Crusade – I chose wisely – Elvis was my holy grail and the only issue his cleft presented was when he drank Elvis would sometimes go sprinkler-mode and water the floor – and then it was high time to mop the floor.  So Elvis with his Elvis lip was a blessing – thank you – thank you very much!  And maybe to the vet’s point – to this day, I’ve never seen another dog like Elvis.

Everyone loved Elvis and his special buddy at Mater Dei who would look out for him was Gene.  Gene would took care of Mater Dei’s beautiful campus and since Elvis liked to roam its every corner, Gene and Elvis were tight.

You can tell a lot about somebody by how they treat animals.  

When I was a young coach, Gene would routinely hold a parking spot on gameday for my mom and dad – knowing that it was hard for my dad to get around.  Gene had a heart of gold and he lived it.  A good beach buddy of mine, Logan Burke, gave me the book — Love Does (and I quickly ordered 5 additional copies to give away – it is that good)!  Love isn’t an idea — love is action — and of anyone one, Gene was a doer.  I’ll never forget what Gene one time said to me about Elvis:

“Elvis somehow knows that you saved his life.”

You can kinda say that about most dogs – but I think that it’s especially true with Elvis.

I am now with Winnie and back at the house.  Winnie is mom’s 2 ½ year-old pup and it breaks my heart to see her confused.  Like it’s her first time, Winnie sniffs the whole house up & down.  Where has her best friend gone?  She lingers and sniffs Elvis’ spots – hopeful that he would jump out from around the bend for one last play – I mean for Winnie to love up on the old man.  After licking clean his eyes and ears (much to the chagrin of mama g), Elvis became the jungle-jim on which young Winnie would play.  I weep for Winnie’s silent confusion and the best friend I can no longer provide for her – but maybe she was fortunate to have him for as long as she did – after Winifred means “blessed peacemaker” and Elvis means “all wise” – and there could never have been a better best friend and wise companion than Elvie to show young Winnie the way to peace . . . . . . and the food bowl.

Blessed are the peacemakers – 

for they shall be called children of god.

He who does not mind his belly 

will hardly mind anything else.

Kinda like the first time I met him on that rainy night – Elvis lays in front of the fireplace exactly where he loved to lay – on his side by the hearth, fire or no fire, happy to be around and hopeful to keep his tiny tummy warm – but this time in a modified cardboard coffin – because Elvis wouldn’t fit in any standard box – which sounds about right – the same place by the fire where he last laid before our final walk for what I had no idea would be our final Wrangler ride – when something happened on the way to the hospital – and I could almost tell that I lost him then and there.  

But what better place than cruisin’ in the Jeep!?

The closest thing you can get to heaven on earth for dogs I’d say is the beach – that’s  something we can learn from dogs – and that’s where we buried Elvis.  So it was one more ride in the Wrangler – the last-last ride – at peace and making for the beach – with Elvis in the back in his box and – like a kid becoming old enough to sit upfront – Winnie riding shotgun – the torch has been passed.  Everybody knew Elvis at the beach – he was mayor and the resident garbage disposal (we one time found him happy as a clam in the bottom of the trash can)!  Here was his heaven – and it is here that he lies buried in our front yard to forever overlook the ocean – no doubt on his side to be warmed by the rising Atlantic sun . . . . . forever.

It is different now here at the house.  I walk in and expect to see Elvis trot out with a wagging tail to greet me – I cook eggs and spill, certain that Elvis will be right in to mop it up – I wake up lonely to a quiet bedroom.  But that’s the way the wheel turns.  Elvis had a good life – a really good life – and we were all better for knowing that compact cinder-block, heavenly mutt-of-a-runt, piglet of a dog – and when the king says it’s time – it’s his time.  So now I rest – albeit lonely, but easy.

At the beach we have a beautiful neighbor who is Leslie Smith – and Leslie is one of the most passionate dog-lovers I have ever known.  So before we close this beautiful chapter to begin another I leave you with the final verse from Paw Prints In Heaven – the book she dropped by my door when she heard that Elvis had died.

Remember all the things I taught you about love and loyalty.  Live each day with joy and simplicity – and one more thing . . . . always follow your instincts.  

Beyond the clouds you will find me, just look up and know that I am here.  With unconditional love from heaven – 

Your best friend, Elvis!

w/ love

your #1 fan,

Dad

‘Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.