Elvis-The Hound Dog.

[oneighty]

I am in the yard assembling ten new galvanized chicken wire crab traps. I tie the irons on with strips of rubber cut from tire inner tubes. The irons made of re-bar anchor the trap to the bottom of the salt water creeks where I crab. Another strip of tube is fashioned to seal the trap opening shut.

My wife Tricia approaches saying "Guess what Ed, Elvis has died." "Elvis "The King" she means. I keep working at my traps. Elvis was singing "Heartbreak Hotel" on every juke box in every tavern on Duval Street there in Key West when I went through Underwater Swimmers School in 1956.

I met Tricia in Charleston South Carolina a year or so later. We were married that same year. We had a chance to go see Elvis but passed it up due to indifference. We did however go one evening to see Jerry Lee Lewis. We sat with a bunch of young people in folding steel chairs in the Charleston Arena. Later when the fights broke out the chairs became weapons. Jerry put on a great show. His sweat stained silky white shirt was soon laying on the floor. The piano stool was kicked out of the way, old Jerry was standing there banging out "Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire." It was about then the fights started. Tricia and I left.

A year or so after Elvis The King died a hound dog showed up in our yard. Since we lived in a remote area at the edge of the Francis Marion National Forest we often had lost hunting dogs drop by for a hand out. Most of the time the dogs were fixed with a collar with name and telephone number of their masters. This dog had a collar.

I called the number. I tell the man "Hey I got your dog. You gonna come get him? I will keep him tied up." "No" He says "I don't want that dog no more, he gittin too old to hunt." I say "Well what am I supposed to do with him?" He say "I don't care what you do with him."
CLICK.

Soon the hound dog less collar sticks his graying nose into the house. Then his long ears and then the forelegs soon follow and at last his wagging tail. With a big sigh of success he joins the kids in front of the fire place. Tricia names him "Elvis"

At three o clock this morning it dawned upon me why Tricia named him Elvis. "You Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog"

Jack, Tricia's brother in law an avid hunter took a liking to Old Elvis the hound dog. Jack took Elvis to his hunt club south west of Charleston. The hunt club fellows had built a cabin there in the pine woods and kennels for their many hunting dogs. Old Elvis found a new home. Next hunting season Elvis is out there doing his hunting thing. Jack allowed that Old Elvis had the very best crocking voice of the whole pack. When the dogs were running deer Old Elvis sang the loudest the prettiest the houndiest.

Elvis The Hound Dog died out there in the pine woods. Jack and his buddies buried Elvis out there.

If you are ever out that way you might hear Old Elvis singing in the quiet of the pine woods.

180

[JitterbugPerfume]

1. Ed, I love this story

it is vintage oneighty <smile>