Requiem for the King

He didn’t play a guitar, and he didn’t sing or gyrate his hips; but he was Elvis and he was the King. Next Tuesday, if he survives the weekend, Elvis will be put down, that’s the kind of being put down that you don’t get up from. He stopped eating on Friday and his kidneys are failing so it’s the right thing to do. He’s 14 years old, that’s over eighty in dog years, so he has had a long and wonderful life. Far beyond what he might have expected when he arrived at the Bryant Castle as a small, shivering, black, miniature dachshund. He must have been Prince then, isn’t that what you are before you are a king? But he really didn’t look like he had much in the way of a royal pedigree. Short, soft, black with a tan underbelly, he quickly became the master of the manor, He was a replacement for the greatly loved, and obsessive compulsive Willy (short for Wilson Pickett, a dachshund of impressive personality and charm. The kind of dog that must be replaced quickly, to help ease the sting.)

Elvis, like his namesake had a weight problem, but how could you blame him? His favorite kibble was always right there in the stainless steel bowl on the kitchen floor. Crunch, Crunch, Crunch. While he hated to eat alone, he sometimes forced himself. For some reason, only knowable in the brain of a dog, he would drop each kibble on the kitchen floor tile prior to crunching it – a few crumbs would always find escape from his snout and drift to the floor.

A little extra weight usually isn’t a problem, look at me, but if you are a miniature dachshund, and you live in a place that has occasional snow in the winters like northern Virginia, a two-inch snowfall puts your belly right in the top layers of the cold wet snow – “Don’t know why these humans don’t just give us a litter box like the cats have. But they make you go out to ‘do your business,’ in the most terrible weather.”

There was never a question of who was “In Control.” Oh, the humans acted like he would do everything they wanted him to do. However, the reality was that the dog, the King, would do exactly what the humans wanted, as long as it was exactly what the King wanted to do. This dog could never be let out without a leash! Fourteen years and he still did whatever it wanted to do. A real King!

Elvis saw his career, his calling, his job security as protecting the estate from the potential ravages that could be visited on the premises by  - - -CATS! He could identify a potential intruder from several hundred yards away and would immediately launch into his warning barking and howling and an impressive assortment of other sounds. Sounds carefully designed to strike terror into any cat within miles. If he happened to be outside, all cats were in imminent danger of a deadly (laughably) attack from which they would be unlikely to recover. At least that’s the image he sought to project. The local cats knew better and laughed at him over their shoulder while sprinting to the nearest tree – never seen a cat laugh over it’s shoulder, oh yes, they do.

He had the same protective attitude about squirrels, which abounded in the nearby trees. They could prance along the tops of fences and dash up the sides of trees. They were never in any real danger from the sudden all-out attacks that Elvis initiated when he thought he might have had a slight tactical advantage. Elvis had a slightly bowed right rear leg, so his high speed dash had a little hitch and loping movement, but it didn’t slow him down much. He never had the slightest idea what he would do with a cat, or a squirrel if he caught one, that wasn’t the point, and it certainly didn’t curb his enthusiasm for the chase. He actually caught a cat once, but that’s another story.

Recently deer have stated working their way out of the woods and up the small creek in back of the house. When he saw them first he rushed at them. Another intruder to be taken care of. However, as he raced closer, these invaders were much, much bigger than the cats and squirrels. He skidded to a stop and reviewed his contract, nothing said about big game, so he decided that a peremptory bark of recognition would meet the expectations of his employer. And if they didn’t like it they could chase them away themselves.

Elvis is at the Lake house this final weekend. He loved to go to the lake. Lots of freedom, no leashes required and some unusual and interesting things to sniff and piss on. There is also a great deck with a lot of sun. I suppose he is lying on the floor fully immersed in the hot sun right now. He likely made a few tentative barks on arrival, just to let the locals know that he was back and in charge and he wouldn’t be putting up with any nonsense. But it would have been a meager and halfhearted bark; not likely to put fear into any locals.

He could always tell when they were packing for a trip to the lake. He would hide near the front door and as soon as it was slightly ajar dash out and stand by the door of the van, leaping in as soon as the door was opened. He certainly wasn’t going to be left behind. But there was another side to the lake, the dark side. While he was a great swimmer with his webbed paws, he could tell that there were wild things in the forest and the underbrush. He had explored everything when he first arrived at the Lake house several years ago, and he very quickly found that there were some strange and terrifying odors on the shrubs and brush. Reptiles, but not like the lizards he would occasionally eat at home. No these were different and scary. He also sometimes heard the sounds of bigger, wilder animals so he decided that his area of concern really didn’t have to be too far from the house.

I once calculated that he was asleep for eleven or twelve of his 14 years, but that was okay. He had an active dream life, although it was mostly limited to running after dream cats and digging for dream badgers. His upkeep has become pretty expensive as he has aged, most of his teeth are gone, and he spends an occasional day at the vets.

He was definitely a one-woman dog (not nearly as protective as Willy) but he tolerated other people - as long as they accepted the fact that he was the King! Farewell Elvis you have been a wonderful friend, companion and watchdog. You will be dearly missed.