Elvis, the big ol’ droopy eyed saggy basset hound, swayed around the house, scraping against the walls of the dinky beach cottage. Walking for any length of time ate up his one-big-energy-surge-of-the-whole-day, and he used it to find just the right spot in the sun to plop down for his daily nap. I guess if I carried 70 pounds and a massive square head with neck flaps bearing down on two inch legs, I’d be a super mellow stoner dude too.