The Amazing Singing Elvis Dog

My mother-in-law was just delighted to give us the Elvis dog. Perhaps we should have noticed a certain gleam in her eyes, or at the very least remembered how eager she was to see her son repaid for his own boyhood hi-jinks by the children in his life. As it went, we took it as a sweet gesture.

Our "returnable kids" (really, nieces) would no doubt love this plush brown dog decked out in blue sequins who wiggled away as he howled "Blue Christmas". My niece Megan* has an absolute obsession with "puppies" in all forms and sorts, another plus, and the Elvis dog featured that savior-of-sanity, and on/off switch.

(At this time, the author would like to respectfully request that all the parents in the audience attempt to keep their laughter to a dull roar so as not to inconvenience others who may be trying to read.

"Silly childless people," you may be giggling to each other. "Do they really think the children will accept them turning off the toy?" Yes, we did think that, then. Life is made for learning.)

The Elvis dog was a big hit. The girls loved him, and, fortunately, after several hundred renditions of "Blue Christmas", they were even willing to accept that the Elvis dog had grown tired and was "sleeping". (Haha! The off switch will triumph yet!) Megan was particularly sensitive to the Elvis dog's need for rest, tucking him back into his basket and shushing us grandly.

We were pleased with this arrangement. We love the joy that the Elvis dog brings to the girls, and we are hoping that by the time the innocent "Elvis dog needs his sleep" routine wears off, they may have out grown him altogether. Is it too much to hope that he might at least be given most of the year off? We could stand a seasonal playing of "Blue Christmas", of course.

Much to Tony's disturbance - and, no doubt, his mother's pleasure - the Elvis dog has firmly surpassed Megan's previous favorite, a small stuffed bunny with no inclination to break out in song. As soon as the girls have completed the requisite emptying of every single toy from their toy basket, he receives nearly all of her attention.

Megan quickly discovered that she could stop the Elvis dog's song by squeezing the same paw that starts his singing (this is the book-hider, a year later, for those of you interested). This is fabulous, as we no longer have to listen to an entire singing of "Blue Christmas"; we now receive spontaneous outburst of song, stopped at odd intervals.

The poor Elvis dog, unable to keep up with Megan's desires, becomes thoroughly confused at these requests, looses his place, and - you guessed it - begins at the beginning each time. I am now unnecessarily familiar with the opening lines of his version of "Blue Christmas."

Megan's affections for Tony, however, are not so set in stone as her love for the Elvis dog. Each time she sees him, she makes an instantaneous decision as to whether she likes him that day, and proceeds to inform him by either smiling shyly from behind her mother's leg, or glaring forcefully from the same position.

Tony sometimes misses these cues, but, to his credit, is always looking for the chance to bond and remind Megan that she does truly like him, however deeply hidden that emotion might be at the moment.

So, out comes the Elvis dog, to inform us that he'll have a blue Christmas without us. Perfect bonding moment! Tony decides to join the Elvis dog. "I'll be so blue thinking about you."

Nope.

That is not okay. Megan squeezes his paw, darts to her mother's side, and glares at Tony from across the room.

A few minutes later, either deciding Tony looks sufficiently contrite or simply experiencing sever "Blue Christmas" withdrawal, Megan ventures back out to set the Elvis dog off again. The Elvis dog, aiming to please, starts his song over, lest we miss the opening notes.

Stubborn? Persistent? Slow learner? Yes, yes, and maybe. Tony once more joins the Elvis dog. Here comes Megan, off goes Elvis, and the glaring resumes.

(For those of you concerned with the sanity of the other adults present, thank you. This only happened a dozen or two times before Tony quit joining the Elvis dog in song.)

Eventually, no doubt pleased with himself at triumphing over a two-year-old (he just didn't learn from "The Baby Hid My Book" ), Tony decided to stop singing along with the Elvis dog. At the next opening strains of "Blue Christmas, he launched into a fairly accurate imitation of the Elvis dog's signature wiggle. Megan looked positively horrified.

Extending her arm, palm out, in the universal gesture of "stop" so favored by crossing guards, Megan announced, "No, Tony, you no dance!"

That settled that! The Elvis dog is now safe, once again, to wiggle and howl un-imitated by lesser singers, so long as he amuses Megan. Or, at the very least, until he is so tired that he simply must go to sleep. Please, please, let the Elvis dog need some sleep.

*Name changed to protect the underage