Elvis Series 1/3: 10 Things I Hate about Her Dog

Elvis Series 1/3: 10 Things I hate about her dog . Elvis Series 2/3: The Fire Swamps. Elvis Series 3/3: The end of the Dog-inning

7 years ago: Meet the Satellite

Me: Doesn’t it ever bother you that Elvis is always following you around?

Stacey: No, I think it’s kinda cute.

Me: But, don’t you ever want a break from him?

Stacey: Why would I ever need a break from this handsome man?

I stared over to a long nose attached to a tiny black head. Brown-black eyes stared back at me intensely. I couldn’t see any other part of Elvis; he was hidden behind Stacey’s knee.

Elvis is an italian greyhound. Like a miniature greyhound. With a cheetah-sized chest and twiggy legs, I put him more in the “interesting” rather than the “handsome” category.

Elvis and my girlfriend, Stacey, moved in with me and my 7 and 9-year-old humans about a month ago. I feel like Stacey and I are the Yin to each other’s Yang. Peanut Butter to Jelly. Well, you get what I mean. On the other hand, Elvis is like a mosquito bite I can’t reach.

Me: But he’s clingy – like a satellite around you, always orbiting.

Stacey (reaching down to pet Elvis but he ran away, because he’s, well, Elvis): Yep, he’s my buddy!

Me: You dog people are crazy. (sticking my tongue out)

Stacey: Well, you human people talk too much.(sticking her tongue out)

Me: At least I don’t have a litter box to scoop the kids

Stacey: Well, you just wait. (Just to be honest, there was a litter box incident with one of my kids not a year later. Nothing makes your eyes water like a stinky scoop of karma.)

And, yes, you heard that correctly. Stacey’s dog goes potty in a litter box. Like a cat. He uses the bathroom after he is home from a walk. Stacey says that makes him a gentleman. I say that makes him a cat-dog. He also follows the sun and sleeps on top of furniture. I‘ll let you be the judge.

That’s just the tip of the iceberg with my fist-clenching issues with Elvis.

15 years prior

I sat on the floor in our Austin, Texas, apartment. Oversized couch, curio cabinet of porcelain engagement gifts, wall-to-wall carpeting.

Recently: I quit my job, moved out of my folks’ house, and welcomed my engagement life in Texas. Other than the hot wind, it’s lovely here. Just he and I.

Usually, after work (we work at the same engineering firm), Mark and I go to the grocery store, work out, eat dinner, and watch TV.

This week was different. He left to test some pavement in west Texas. So, here’s my new schedule:

• I race home from work to call him. (He has our joint cell phone.)
• I eat dinner.
• I sit down with my fabric shaver and a stack of crocheted blankets.
• If I’m lucky, there’s a football game on, or I just watch ESPN because it reminds me of him.
• I call Mark before bed while looking at our engagement pictures.
• I sleep cuddled with Mark’s t-shirts.

Back to the Dog

Elvis has so many issues. Here are my topsies:

1. He whines if Stacey leaves the house.
2. He whines all night because I put up a gate between the downstairs and upstairs.
3. Stacey has to put her shirts in his bed so he will calm down.
4. He won’t let anyone else pet him.
5. He pushes me away when I am close to Stacey.
6. When Stacey’s gone, he vomits. (I’m the cleanup crew.)
7. He poops outside of his litter box. (I swear he KNOWS I’m scooping)
8. He sits in between me and Stacey on the couch
9. He won’t let anyone else take him for a walk.
10. Last week he jumped on the kitchen table and left a sharpie-sized turd on my placemat that I *almost* picked up in the morning. Seriously.

Me (sarcastically): Yea, Elvis, why can’t you just get a life and do more dog things, like chew bones or something? Or lay down without your mommy? Like not.be.so.codependent?

Oh shit. Very funny, God. Seems Elvis and I have a lot of things in common. I’m a recovering Elvis. Haha. Well, at least I can go for a walk without Stacey. That’s a start.

Sigh of recognition.

Poem: Velcro Dog

(Try reading this to yourself in a deep voice – like Mike Singletary in the Chicago Bears Superbowl Shuffle!)

My name is Elvis.
I’m the Velcro Dog.
Always followin’ Mom - 
even through a bog.

So, what’s my story? 
How’d I get this way? 
Let me tell you
without delay.

A sock-sized puppy
in a quiet basement pad,
slept with Mom every day.
Such a lucky lad.

When it comes to blankets,
He's a real big hog.
By the couch or heater,
He sleep like a log.

Then we moved somewhere 
with windows - found his howl,
but kept Mom close
even when squirrels made him growl.

What? A crate? Hell no!
He can’t sleep that way.
He'll keep you up for weeks
whining through the night and day. 

He eats his veggies, 
ma’am, please,
but get outta his way 
when he sees Mom-mie! 

The SoulJourner Question

PROMPT: (Update:  Elvis and I have a peaceful, loving relationship nowadays.) I’ve been a recovering codependent for 7 years. Codependency is something that I will never “be cured” from. And that’s okay. Accepting others where they’re at, listening to what I need, and staying in my own lane is my new way of life. Have you ever heard of codependency? If so, I’d love to hear what you know about it! 

READ THE NEXT STORIES! >> Elvis Series 2/3: The Fire Swamps. Elvis Series 3/3: The end of the Dog-inning