Page 165 - Dash Inspirations by Linda Ellis

Lilly Rocks
Sometimes life offers us great BIG lessons, in small, subtle ways. My golden retriever, Tucker, weighed more than 110 pounds in his prime. Every day without fail, he would bring those whom he admired most a large, heavy rock upon their entrance into our backyard. Those who visited often became accustomed to this unusual greeting and learned to watch their toes because he would, with love, predictably drop these small boulders directly on the recipient’s foot. You might say we all learned to take his loving gestures for “granite.”
My smallest dog, Lilly, only weighed twelve pounds when soaking wet, and she was Tucker’s biggest fan. She idolized him and watched every move he made. Some say a dog’s face is incapable of showing emotion, but I beg to differ. More than once, I’d witnessed her little face light up and her eyes widen when he entered a room. When he would lie down, she would take every opportunity to give him “kisses” while he was on her level. When he would arise, she would stand as tall as she could under his chin, desperately trying to get his attention. Though he seemed to not be bothered by her company and companionship, unfortunately, Lilly never really entered his radar.
Over time, I began to watch Lilly as she would intently observe Tucker. I noticed that after a while, she began to mimic Tucker’s unique rock habit. She would quietly venture out to the back of the yard where the “best” rocks apparently congregated and attempt with all her might to bring back a large rock, similar to those Tucker would deem as most worthy. (I don’t know what qualities a rock would have to possess to be chosen from the others, but for reasons unknown, he would literally “shop” the rocks before choosing a favorite.) Many times, after Tucker would drop a large rock, Lilly would, with the determination of a beaver building an oversized dam on a tight deadline, attempt to pick up and carry his discarded trophy. But to her dismay, her open mouth only had the circumference of a small plum, and she could never complete the mission. She would return obviously disappointed, discouraged and rockless.
As time went on, I watched and learned as an obvious life lesson dis- played itself right before me in the form of a ball of black and white fur with unrelenting big round eyes. Lilly, in all her infinite wisdom, learned to adapt and overcome. She began to find and retrieve what I now affectionately call “Lilly Rocks.” She finally succeeded in
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