Last night on one of our frequent Saturday night dates, Julie asked me an interesting question.
Since I named Elvis before I met him, am I still happy with that choice of a name?
I chose that name because I had never had a cat before. I knew nothing about cats but when my niece Randy sent me videos of the sweet little ball of fur purring in her arms my heart skipped a beat. There was a mystery about this new pet. Knowing him would open a door to something different in my life, something somewhat strange and scary but it was an adventure I was willing to move into.
This was very much the way I felt when I first saw Elvis Presley on the Ed Sullivan Show at 12 years old. I took my allowance and bought Elvis’ LP (long playing record, an album, if you will) and carried it around until my father took pity on me and bought me a stereo.
I still can bring back the feeling I felt listening to Elvis singing;
“I’d live deep in the jungle and sleep up in a tree, and let the rest of the world go by, if you were there with me”
Well maybe looking at a kitten wasn’t exactly like that but you get the idea. Elvis Presley was my first love and I knew I would love this little strange guy in a way I hadn’t known before.
I was right. It was a new kind of love. Elvis is not like any dog I’ve ever had. Let me try and think of some of the adjectives that come to mind when I think of my little kitty.
The first one has got to be “vindictive”.
You playfully rub that little bastard’s tummy and you’ll wish you hadn’t. Immediately your hand is in a death grip with his needle like claws holding you in place. And somewhat like fish hooks, if you pull away they just rip more of your skin, so you are forced to move forward into those razor like teeth.
The next is “persistence”.
If you had a dog that enjoyed sitting on your desk in front of you while you’re at your computer, dancing on the keys and slapping the screen, You’d only have to tell him once that it wasn’t appreciated. This little fucker could care less . Jumping back up 13 times is nothing to him.
I’d have to put “misrepresentation of attitude” in there too.
He climbs up on your shoulder and purrs in your ear while rubbing himself against you. I can’t describe the affection and warmth I feel when he does that. It is short lived though because he clearly takes my feeling of pleasure as a sign of weakness . He invariably uses that opportunity to see if I do in fact have a jugular.
So would I still name him Elvis?