Lilly Rocks

Sometimes life offers us great big lessons, in subtle, little ways.

My golden retriever, Tucker weighed more than 110 lbs. in his prime.  Every day without fail, he would bring those whom he admired most, a great big heavy rock upon their entrance into our back yard.  Those who visited often became accustomed to this unusual greeting and learned to watch their toes because he would, with love, inevitably and randomly drop these small boulders on the recipient’s feet.  You might say we all learned to take his loving gestures for “granite.”

Sometimes, if you were relaxing inside the house when Tucker was outside, he would drop his “catch of the day” onto the wood of the deck resulting in a startling noise.  The first few months of this, we’d actually investigate the sound, but in time we learned to recognize the familiar thump.

Though my smallest dog, Lilly only weighed 12 lbs. when soaking wet, she was still 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’d 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.

I’ve always been fascinated at the friendships animals create with one another and the affection and attachment that develop as a result.  Over time, I began to observe 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.

But as time went on, I watched and learned, as a blatant life lesson displayed itself right before me in the form of a ball of black and white fur with unrelenting big round eyes, weighing less than that of a bowling ball.  Lilly, in all her infinite wisdom, learned to adapt and overcome.  She began to find and retrieve what I now have dubbed, “Lilly rocks.”  To this day, she succeeds in inconspicuously bringing back, at regular intervals, little rocks — just as she’d watched Tucker do repeatedly through the years on a larger scale.  Each of her small prizes is bigger than a pebble, yet smaller than a baby’s fist…just big enough to fit in her mouth and not too heavy for her to transport with little effort through the yard and up the stairs. 

Daily, I find these small rocks on the floor throughout my home.  They are in my bathroom.  They are in my living room.  They are here in my office.  It seems as though they are small, yet significant, strategically placed reminders to me that I should follow Lilly’s example and take life in small pieces.  I’ve learned that I can meet problems and dilemmas head on, even if they appear to me in the size of boulders if I remember not to bite off more than I can chew at one time.  I’ve learned to learn.  Learn my limitations.  Learn that if I accept my life’s troubles, trials and tribulations in Lilly rock sizes and stop trying to take them on all at once, I can confront and overcome them more efficiently and with the investment of far less stress.

There is a quote I’ve often referred to in my speeches and stories:  “Life is hard…yard by yard.  Inch by inch?  It’s a cinch!”  Now, I’ve rewritten that concept as I continually tell myself, and others to: “Take life in Lilly rocks…”