Elvis! Go Smoke a Cigarette!

I think I may have been called a "Crazy Dog Lady," like once or twice in my life. I know that I once denied that a tiny turd on the floor of my sister's house was Elvis' even though he was the only dog in the house at the time. My sister was reading me the riot act when my nephew came to my defense by saying, "it can't be Elvis' turd because he shits diamonds." I really love my nephew! Almost as much as I love Elvis.
     And you know Elvis loves me best, but did you know that the other love of his life is Humpy Bear? This is a little shout out ~ a tribute if you will ~ to Humpy Bear.  He's not quite a gonner yet, but it's safe to say that he is on his last leg because Elvis the Pelvis has just about loved him to death, if you catch my drift.

I don't recall if Humpy was Mrs. Claus or Santa Claus, but he started out life innocent enough as a cute, chubby teddy bear wearing a Santa outfit.
     The back story is this:  In 2005 The Big Guy and I and the kids went on a cruise over Christmas. This was before I had my "Crazy Dog Lady Card," so Elvis was not allowed to "officially" travel with me even though during that time he was often spotted wearing a Harley t-shirt and tooling around in my purse, which pretty much double stamped my ticket and put me on the fast track to the Looney Train.

So anyway I left him in the good company of my Uncle Gary and Aunt Ruth. The "other Chihuahua" in the house (my aunt's) was older and probably in the post menopausal stages of her life and didn't want anything to do with Elvis, unless it was to bite his head off and shit down his neck, so poor little Elvie sought out companionship with the Christmas teddy bear. My aunt and uncle finally gave up trying to save the teddy bear from the horn dog and just let my little man have his way with him or her.
     When we came back from our trip Elvis would not part with his new love so Mr. or Mrs. Claus came home with us. Soon after we renamed him "Humpy Bear," for obvious reasons.

For many years Humpy Bear was not allowed out of the house. Whenever we went anywhere I refused to take the filthy, nasty thing along even though Elvis will drag out the door. We can be gone for months and yet when we come home the first thing Elvis does is run through the house looking for Humpy. Most of the time he always remembers exactly where he left him so the minute we get in the house he makes a run for Humpy Bear.
     By the way, I would like to think that Humpy Bear is a "her" but we have always referred to it as "him".  If my little man is gay I'm perfectly fine with it, and if he wants to marry Humpy I'll call the caterer and order flowers. It's no secret that they have already been doing a lot of honeymooning. *wink-wink*.

Elvis loves to introduce Humpy Bear to whoever comes to our house by immediately dragging him into the middle of the room and giving him the business. Smooth move, I know.
     Humpy Bear is so dirty that Paisley is the only one who will touch him without rubber gloves on. (P.S. I don't wash him anymore for fear he will fall apart and then Elvis would probably have to go to some humping support group.) Paze loves nothing more than to terrorize Elvis by running through the house with Humpy dangling at the end of her arm while he chases her. A few days ago she gave Humpy a swirlie, yes in the toilet, and then ran, dragging the dripping, dirty thing across my floor. I'm not sure who I love more ~ Paisley or Elvis.

A couple of years ago Elvis got really sick and we almost lost him. He was in the hospital in an oxygen kennel and I took Humpy Bear to him and asked the Vet to put him in the kennel with him. El's little face lit up and he crawled right up on top of him (not in that kind of way) and curled up and went to sleep. It was so sad and you know I bawled like a baby. From that moment on there were no more Humpy Bear rules. Humpy can sleep in our bed, sit on the couch, ride in the car, play with matches or run with scissors....whatever Elvis and Humpy want, they can do. Whatever. Whenever. Wherever. When it comes to Elvis and Humpy Bear there are no rules.
     Yet....those are some of the times that I can be heard yelling, "Elvis! Go smoke a cigarette!" 

After me and Humpy Bear Elvis loves chicken so I'm sharing one of our favorite recipes; Chicken Pomodoro, which was the only chicken dish on the menu when I cheffed at the Virginian Steakhouse.  Elvis likes it for the chicken; me, for the vodka.  Click on the "Beef-Pork-Chicken tab at the top of this page to view it.

     Gotta run, gotta go pick some diamonds up off the floor. (I hear that train a-comin!) 

Below is a picture of Elvis wearing his "Elvis outfit" at the "Elvis Birthday Party." (That's another story.) Cape, cuffs, gold lame ~ can't you can tell he's digging it? I swear I heard him say, "Thank you momma, thank you very much."

 

 

(*not my Pomodoro picture above)