After reading about the passing
of Wilf the PON on his blog here
I was inspired to blog
about my little furry pal
Elvis...
Unlike Wilf he does not have a terminal
disease.
He's just a happy little
12 year old Teacup poodle.
Back in the spring of 2000 my fiance, Sam
decided (without discussing it with me)
it was time to bring a dog into our lives.
She, being a fan of all miniature things,
wanted a miniature dog.
When I came home from work that night
Sam, without saying a word
only a slight smirk on her face,
(she was trying to contain a big toothy grin)
took me by the hand back to our bedroom
to reveal
a pair of rolled up black socks
resting on my pillow?!?
Sam pulled me closer to discover the socks were actually
a very tiny black puppy.
She was worried I'd raise a fit
but I warmed to him instantly.
My only concern was for his safety
being so small in a family of big footed people!
We named him Elvis because of his
poodle pompadour
and the fact he was a Vegas dog.
Needless to say he has learned to be quick on his feet
to avoid be stepped on
and I have learned to look before stepping.
He is my constant comfy chair companion,
my shadow,
and my "self appointed" official food taster.
Elvis' favorite spot in the house
is on the arm of my La-Z-Boy.
Usually with his head resting on
the cool marble top table next to it
looking out the window.
Doesn't look very comfortable does it?
But you don't mind do you Elvis?
He was an only child, except for his cat friends,
till the day in 2009
when my wife, Sam brought home Cher...
"Not too sure about this"
But that's a post for another day.
Rest in peace Wilf and Digby.
