In Inwood’s leafy parliament,
Where mutts convene and time is bent,
There reigns a pup of noble pose —
Miss Lilian, with muddy toes.
A mix of breeds? That’s putting light
On genes that met at speed of fright.
A shepherd’s stance, a husky’s flair,
And terrier twitches in midair.
Her nose knows things we’ll never know —
Like which tree’s wise and which says “no.”
She greets the wind with full delight,
Then sprints because it looked just right.
A ball? You bet. It’s sacred lore.
She treats each toss as mythic chore.
She leaps like laws don’t quite apply —
Mid-air philosopher, chasing the “why.”
Among her gang — the dog-world clique,
Of tiny barkers, giants thick —
She stands as queen, though not by vote,
But by the way she steals your coat.
She’s popular — like snacks or naps,
The kind that earns spontaneous claps.
Big dogs bow, and small ones cheer,
When Lilian struts, the path gets clear.
She’s warm to folks and kind to pets,
But sometimes newer dogs cause frets.
A side-eye flash, a puffed-up chest —
Then next you know, she loves them best.
At home, there lives her feline kin,
A dark-hued queen with judgy chin.
They spar, they peace, they share a stare,
Then nap like co-rulers of air.
When stress arrives in sudden gust,
She wrestles her bear in wild distrust.
Poor plushy brute, it bears the brunt,
Of Lil’s dramatic self-care stunt.
Camping? Oh, she packs with pride.
The woods, her soul’s preferred divide.
She sleeps near glow, nose to sky,
And dreams in loops we can’t untie.
She’s silly, yes — a comic sage,
Who treats each stick like center stage.
She trips with flair, she spins with glee,
Then gazes off… epiphany?
You see, she’s not just fur and fuss —
She’s barked at stars and questioned us.
She lives as though the world’s absurd —
And maybe she’s the wisest herd.