I met Elvis and then I met another Elvis. The first time I met an Elvis was when I was in the first grade and The King was in my mother’s office. I saw him in concert a total of three times. The second Elvis I met was a hounddog. I spotted what looked like a glove on the highway between Santa Fe and Taos. I turned the car around and watched in horror as a car passed right over the top of the tiny dog. I stopped, got out of the car, and ran to the little hunk of burning love. He was only about three weeks old, emaciated, and the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I was on my way to Aspen for my opening at Mill Street Gallery. The veterinarian in Taos encouraged me to leave the sick puppy with him; he did not expect him to live to the end of the day. After a long discussion the vet gave me medicine for Elvis and told me I was in for heartache. A babydoll bottle from the five and dime and I was on the road. I fed and gave him medicine every two hours. I had an overcoat with me that had been my fathers. There was an oversized inside pocket and the baby Elvis lived right there nestled in a silk scarf next to my heartbeat. At the opening, I was greeting collectors and secretly bottle feeding my struggling companion. Each morning I would pray he was alive when I awoke. On my way back to Santa Fe I consulted with the vet who was astonished Elvis was not only alive, but improving. After a month of appointments and moments of deep concern Elvis began to turn hope into a reality, he was going to make it. For eighteen years and over 100 times, I painted Elvis the Rottweiler/Shepherd. This is one of my favorites. I hope you like it too. Thank you, thank you very much. - Rhett
