James Tate
ELVIS HAS LEFT THE HOUSE
The raccoon got up on the roof and wouldn’t come down. I threw rocksat it and it danced between them. Finally I decided to get my shotgun.I got a ladder from the garage and climbed up on it. Then I tookfired. It danced like crazy, but I missed and tore a hole in the roof.Denny, the little boy from next door, came running out of his house yelling,“Don’t shoot, that’s my pet raccoon!” I turned on the ladder and stared athim in disbelief. “All right, you can have him if you can catch him,” Isaid. He stood at the foot of the ladder and said, “Come here, Billy.” Andto my amazement, the raccoon came down and nestled in his arms and they walkedaway toward Denny’s home. I put the ladder away and walked into my housewith my shotgun. I went into my study and started to work for a while.I finished a report for work in about three hours, then decided to takea nap. I went into the living room and lay down on the couch. I slept forabout an hour and when I woke up the raccoon was in my lap. I started to screambut then thought better of it and just started to pet its head, which it seemedto like. So we lay there like that for another half hour until there was aknock on the door. I picked the raccoon up and walked to the door. It wasDenny, the boy from next door. “Can I have my raccoon back?” he said. “Idon’t know how he got in here, really I don’t. But, sure, here’s yourraccoon,” I said. “By the way, what’s his name?” “Elvis,” he said, grabbinghis pet. A few days later I had worked hard in the yard all day and wastired. I went to bed early and when I woke up Elvis was in my arms. Itfelt natural and good and I kissed him, which he seemed to like. I got upand fixed him breakfast, which was cereal and milk. He liked that.Then I went about my day and Elvis followed me around. He stayed thatnight. And the next night. In fact he seemed to be a permanent tenantby now. We had our routines and our meals. We slept together. One daywhen I was raking leaves in the fall I saw Bob and Susan in their yard. Theywere Dennis’s parents. After we exchanged greetings and talked for a littlebit, I said, “How’s Denny?” “We thought you knew. Denny died last summer.It was polio,” Bob said. “Oh, I’m so sorry. He’ll be greatly missed, I know,”I said. Then I finished raking and went back in the house. I did somepaperwork, napped for a while, and fixed dinner. Something was different.Elvis wasn’t there. I looked everywhere, but there was no Elvis.
