Many of you know the story of how I found Elvis, my dog of eighteen years, on the highway between Santa Fe and Taos. He was about three weeks old and apparently abandoned on the highway. In retrospect, it was foreshadowing. Elvis traveled with me extensively. He had a special suitcase on casters complete with concealed air vents. I once rolled him into the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria in New York, checked in, and rolled him to our room. When he needed to go out, he would hop into the compartment and we would wheel past the front desk. He came close to seeing all fifty states in the USA. You might be concluding Elvis was the perfect dog. I guess almost every dog owner has rose colored glasses when it comes to their dog and its characteristics. I was not so blind, he was a handful. Given the slightest opportunity, he would charge out any open door and go on an adventure. I could not begin to guess the number of miles I chased or hunted him down during our time together. When he would spot me on his trail, he would run just ahead of me for sport or if the circumstances provided, he would hide.  Once apprehended, he was all love and cuddles. Elvis wasn't the first name I gave him. It's been so long ago, I don't remember his original name. I do remember having several guests over for Sunday brunch. I kindly, but seriously, asked each guest to be sure and not let the dog out of the studio door. You see this coming don't you? Imagine a fox hunt except the fox is a turbo rocket puppy and the crisp riders are sluggish mimosa fueled flip-flop for hoofs people. At the trumpet blow, someone yelled, "Elvis has left the building." It stuck.

"St. Runaway" is the visual story of the highway and runaway adventures Elvis and I had together. Our relationship produced the comment, "This is the dog of your life," many times over the years. It seems like it was just yesterday, is the emotion I feel everytime I look at this image. - Rhett