Eli. Lesson Two.

Eli

The 7 Teachings of Eli

Lesson Two

Suggested Pre-Reading:
Lesson One


So there I stood, out in the fast food parking lot, Eli tucked under one arm. The diminutive doggie had given himself over to me, peaceably putting his fate into my cod-scented hands. 

I took a moment, as I always do in these situations, to appreciate the trustful nature of dogs. If a stranger seven times my own height were to try to pick me up, I assure you I would not be as obliging.

Okay, it was time to plan our next move. If we'd been in a residential area, I would have canvassed nearby homes to see if anyone recognized him. But this was the heart of Industrialville--making Eli's plight seem all the scarier. Was the little guy miles from home?

I needed a moment to think, so I opened the back door of my car and set Eli onto the seat. And though the dear boy was nearly blind, he had no problem finding his way to the front of the car before I could get there myself.

In a less accurate telling of the story, I might say he climbed onto the front passenger seat... But in truth, he climbed onto the remainder of my fish sandwich. I opened the front car door and saw one of his legs up to the wrist in Wonder Bun. By the looks of things, his foot had passed through the deep-fried patty and the bottom layer of bread, coming to rest on the cardboard pod below.

I giggled and he wiggled, plunging his other front foot deep into my lunch. I had to free the poor pup before I lost him to the LaBrea Tartar Sauce Pits. 

I lifted him with one hand, using the other to grope for a wet wipe from the glove compartment. When we were both properly bathed, I fed him the sandwich in genteel bites that he had to locate by sense of smell.

Once the food was gone he licked his lips and offered me a big ol' fish-eating grin.

Which brings us to the second of his seven teachings for me: "Revel in your missteps. They pave the road to good fortune."

I knew Eli had to get home, but our journey together was not yet over. I still had much to learn.

Today I'm going to recall a time when I felt mortified by a mistake I made. Then I'm going to figure out what good came from that blunder.