If something falls out of the sky into my yard and lands at my feet, is it wrong to keep it? That is the argument Doc and I had the other day. I will tell you what happened and you can decide for yourself.

It was one of those beautiful spring days and I was lying in the lush green grass minding my own business. Plop! Out of nowhere a neon green orb falls out of the sky and lands right at my feet. After I recovered from being startled, I realized it was one of my most favorite things in the world, a tennis ball.  As I was picking it up to play, I saw the neighbor dog and his owner coming toward the fence. The man called me over to try to get the ball. He said it was his and had thrown it so hard it had landed in my yard. “No way” I thought. “It’s mine now”. So every time they came near me I ran away until they finally gave up and left. What I didn’t realize is that Doc had been watching out the window the whole time.

As it got close to supper time, Doc came out where I was lying in the yard to call me inside. She spotted the tennis ball in my mouth, looked at it and said, “Grover, that is not your tennis ball.” My goodness that woman missed her calling, she should have worked for the CIA. I didn’t move a muscle as she grabbed that ball out of my mouth before I could react. ” You kept that ball from the neighbors when it fell in the yard, didn’t you?” I stayed silent, went inside, ate my supper and thought the discussion was over until I noticed that she was hovering over me. ” Come on Grover, get that tennis ball, we are taking it back.”

And with that, we walked through the back yard, down the street to the front door of the neighbors. Doc knocked on the door and when the man and his dog answered she looked at me and said “drop it.” I will tell you that those neighbors were a bit surprised and somewhat apologetic saying that we didn’t need to bring the ball back, that it was no big deal, but Doc didn’t agree. ” Grover is not allowed to keep what isn’t his, I am sorry that he kept it from you.”

It was a long, silent walk back to the house. I have learned it’s best not to argue with Doc when she is upset with me, but I guess she is right. I wouldn’t like it if someone came across my stuff and just kept it. Chalk it up to another lesson learned in this dog’s short life.

Dear Elvis,

They say you died before I was born, but I don’t believe it. That being said, I have my own theories.

I agree with the humans that believe you may have staged your own death because you got sick of all the limelight and lack of privacy. I imagine you quietly living out your senior years, on a remote island somewhere in the Indian Ocean. Dressed only in a Speedo, your grey hair blowing in the breeze, you spend your time like the old high school football star, remembering your glory days by watching all your old cheesy Elvis movies and your concert tapes.

Or, my second theory is that you did die and you have come back as a Zombie. People will certainly leave you alone if you are a Zombie. Think of the possibilities! You could start a whole new career as an extra on the TV show The Walking Dead. Quietly you would suggest to the director and the writers of the show the possibility of introducing an Elvis Zombie look-alike. Elvis Zombie could sing old Elvis tunes that lull the living into letting the Zombies eat their brains. Fabulous! (It’s ok with me if you use my idea).

Just so you know, lots of people are still making money off your image and all your music. Why, they even have opened up your old house Graceland to tourists that traipse through all the rooms, looking at your stuff. Some fans stand outside the gates and cry, they miss seeing you so much.

Do you know about all the Elvis impersonators?  If you do, that must just get your goat. Some of those impersonators even have their own female groupies that act like they are the real Elvis. I have watched those women rush the stage and throw their undies at those fakes. How Rude!

Well Elvis, that’s all I have to say for now. Doc says it’s getting late and it’s time for me to go to bed. I just wanted to drop you a line and tell you that wherever you are, in heaven or on earth, I hope you are at peace. You left us with some great music that has touched even my little doggy heart and I just wanted to thank you. Take care.

Love,

Grover

Doc recently told me a story about her childhood that really made me think about my own life and the fears that keep me stuck. I thought I would pass the story on to you.

When Doc was six years old, she got a shiny red Schwinn children’s bike for her birthday complete with training wheels. Doc was thrilled. She rode that bike up and down the long driveway at her house for hours every day.

A month went by and one day her father was out in the yard and noticed that she was balancing her bike without using the training wheels. He asked her to get off of the bike and bring it in to the garage. When he told Doc he was going to remove the training wheels, she began crying, begging and pleading with her father not to take them off because she was scared she would fall without them. “You aren’t even using them when you ride, he told her, it’s time to ride your bike without them.”

None of her continued pleading swayed him, so after they were removed, he had her get on the bike and start peddling while he ran behind her. With one swift push from behind, off Doc went, balancing perfectly. After the initial fear subsided, she had to admit that she felt proud of herself. As she rode back toward her father, he had a big grin on his face. and said,”I told you, you could do it.”

What a metaphor for life, I thought, as she finished the story. How many times do we keep our training wheels on long after we really need them just because it feels safer? Doc has always encouraged me to do things when I was afraid just like her father did with her. It’s so important not to let fear define your life.

So the question I leave you with today is; What would you do if you were not afraid? Maybe it’s time to remove your training wheels.