When I was a young boy I lived in a middle class neighborhood on a dead-end street. It was a great place to live, plenty of woods to explore, plenty of creeks to dam and trees to climb, plenty of freedom. I did not know what unsafe was…I had my own private world.
Before I got my first Doxie, Leo, I was adopted by the across-the-street dog. Her name was Pepsi, and we hit it off from the get-go. She was with me from dawn to dark, everyday. She was a beautiful, loyal, smart, and fearless Collie. She was waiting for me everyday. She was my partner all day long and every time I was outside doing what young boys do…exploring. I truly believe she loved me as much as I loved her. Later in life I would come to understand how important that is.
My next-door neighbor had a steep incline that bordered my yard and was damn near impossible to mow. Too steep for certain, so he got a goat to take the place of the lawn mower. He’d stake that bastard, and give him enough chain so he could feed on the grass on the slope. It worked, but this fucking goat did not like humans or dogs. He was a mean motherfucker…it took more than one butt on my ass to realize that. I learned early on not to get into the circumference of his range…he was FAST.
Pepsi loved the ball and she always had one with her. I threw and she retrieved…all the time. She loved me and I loved her. In hindsight, I believe she thought of me as the Thrower, or the Challenger…whatever, we were tight. She was my Girl, and I was her Boy.
Pepsi was just as fast, or faster. I’d throw that ball and land it within that fucking perimeter of the damn goats chain, and Pepsi and the goat would go all at it. Funny as hell…Pepsi loved it, never got butted, and always went back for more. Did I tell you I loved that bitch? She would lead me to that fucking goat with that “I’m ready to slow dance attitude”…waiting for me to throw the damn ball…she loved it, it became a daily deal.
Pepsi’s across-the-street owner was a member of the Jordanaires, the backup singers for Elvis Presley.
I was young, but I do remember…in detail.
Pepsi and I were hanging out in my front yard, throwing the ball, when two black Cadillacs? (cars with fins) came up the street and pulled into my driveway. This cool dude dressed in black with a bunch of Brylcreem going on got out of the back seat and asked what my name was, and what my dogs name was. I told him my name, and the dogs name, but she belonged to the guy across the street. He said, toss me the ball…I did. We pitched it back and forth a few times, and then he launched one long. Pepsi retrieved it immediately, and brought it back. This happened a few more times before I said, you wanna see the goat? He said, sure, but was probably thinking WTF. He followed me and Pepsi from the front yard to the side yard. I showed him how to land it within range of the fucking goat chain, and he got good at it real fast. Laughing his ass off, he was. I had absolutely no idea who this guy was, but I was old enough to know he was cool, and friendly.
We did the toss to the fucking goat about 20 times, and he continued to laugh his ass off. I was laughing my ass off as well, probably because he was laughing. It was funny, and I had no idea who this guy was, but he was a good guy.
He said they were going to cook-out some hot-dogs and hamburgers across the street at my neighbors, and invited me. It wasn’t dark yet, so I didn’t have to be home, and we walked across the street. His black cars followed.
So it was a typical backyard cookout, except the guy in black was letting me roll the hot-dogs and flip the hamburgers on the grill. After everything was cooked, he asked me what I wanted on mine…mustard, ketchup, relish, onions, etc….He made me a custom one.
A custom made hot-dog by Elvis. Too Cool, but no matter.
I had no idea he was Elvis Presley, I had no idea who he was,…so after dinner, we shook hands, and I went home. He told me we were buddies.
I told my Mom about the cool guy I just spent the afternoon with…I told her his name was Elvis, and she damn near passed out.
I cannot make this shit up.
4 Comments
holy shit, that sounds like a movie in the making. too cool.
I cannot make this shit up.
And we don’t want you to. What a great story, a goat, a dog named Pepsi, big black Cadillacs, and flipping burgers with Elvis. Memories don’t get much more colorful.
T.F.C. that’s too fucking cool.
way too cool, even Elvis. the description was so good I went back in time to watch!