Elvis Sightings…The Legend Lives On
He ambled into my yard, thirsty, hungry, and seeking shelter from the hot Texas sun. Against my better judgement, and with my momma’s warnings ringing in my ears, I fed him and offered him a cool drink.
Momma always said, if you feed them you’ll never get rid of them. She was talking about strays, dogs and cats primarily, but it could also be applied to people.
I fed him and then I couldn’t get him to leave. I knew my husband would not be happy when he came home.
“I guess you saw him?”, I nervously inquired as I handed my husband a glass of sweet iced tea.
“Couldn’t miss him, big as he is. He’s in the front yard, playing frisbee with the kids. I admit he’s cute and he’s good with the kids, but you can’t keep him.”
“Just for a few days? See how it goes?”, I begged.
I’m sure he would have said no, but the kids came running in and after more pleading from them , he capitulated.
“He looks like a yellow lab”, I commented happily.
“Hah, he ain’t nuthin' but a hound dog”, my husband laughed.
“Let’s call him Elvis! You know, cause of the song. Great name for him!” , I suggested, inspired.
All was well …for about ten minutes. Left on his own, Elvis had decided to do a little digging. In the flowerbed. I forgave him because he was just doing what came naturally.
He cried himself to sleep on the front porch. The next morning we discovered he’d soothed himself by chewing the rudder off the wooden rocking chair. I forgave him because he was lonely.
The kids loved him. He was so much fun. He loved to play fetch.
Then the “offerings” began to appear. Every morning our porch was littered with loot Elvis scrounged from the neighborhood. One morning a mop, taken from a neighbor’s porch, the next a paintbrush someone had left out to dry in the sun.
Elvis was a kleptomaniac. He had to go. Of course we tried fencing him up in the backyard first, but he was quite the escape artist. Probably why he came to wander into our yard.
I know now this is shameful behavior, but in frustration my husband decided to “take Elvis for a ride”. My only defense; we were young and made bad choices.
Two days later, Elvis was back! My husband was flabbergasted. Elvis seemed to think it was a game. My husband had been outwitted by a dog, a hound dog.
A new plan was enacted when a friend volunteered to take Elvis, not for himself but to find a home for him.
We were sad, but when you live on a dead end road and you know all your neighbors you don’t risk their ire.
“I saw Elvis this morning when Dad was driving me to school”, my son announced as he got in the car in front of his school one afternoon.
“Oh honey, people report Elvis Sightings all the time, but Elvis is dead.”
“No, Mom! The dog! I saw him in a yard playing frisbee with a little kid. I know it was him.”, he patiently explained.
And the legend lives on.