My Dog Elvis is five years old today. It’s not easy to keep a dog alive in the rural Mexico for five years. To date, Elvis has been poisoned twice, he’s had wounds to the bone, had a virus that required a round of injections that would fell an elephant, and was implicated in the untimely death of a cow, which is a akin to a death sentence. Much of this mayhem occurred during the time he was uncut. It took us a year and a half to find a vet that would castrate him. It simply is not done in our area, castrating a male, unless it’s a pig and that is only because you can’t eat the meat otherwise.
My love for Elvis is irrational, a divine passion. I’m just thankful that Felipe is crazy about him too, it offsets the jealousy. I don’t know what it is that inspires our devotion to dogs, perhaps it is our co-evolutionary path, or maybe it is simply their innate wonderfullness.
Why is this article related? Because I would not name my beloved after anyone less fabulous than Elvis Costello.