I’m a dog person. It’s not that I don’t like cats. In the spirit of full disclosure, I once—for a few brief months—had a pet cat. But for the majority of my life, I have always had a dog as a pet. And for me, it’s always been a big dog. When I was a child, our family had an English Setter/Collie mix. Shortly after Lib and I married, we got a Golden Retriever. When he died, we got a Yellow Lab/Chow mix who was later mated with a Black Lab the size of a dump truck, and we kept one of those puppies.
A few years ago, I was surprised with an English Lab puppy we named “Scout” (after the character in To Kill a Mockingbird.) This little girl regularly teaches me so much—so very much—about the steadfast love of God. She delights to see me. She still thinks she is a lap dog, climbing up and rolling over for me to rub her belly. She longs to play fetch with me; she simply wants to be with me. (Yeah, Lib and Kathryn, too, but mostly me.) And every morning, as I finish my daily devotions, she knows I have finished—she KNOWS—and comes and climbs up and stares into my eyes. And those eyes reflect the pure, steadfast love of God.
Dogs are the best living illustration of God’s unconditional love. When Scout climbs up and licks my face and relaxes onto me, I find myself thinking about how much more God loves me than this sweet dog. Then I am chagrined to realize that I still need to grow in my ability to show my love for God just as Scout shows her love for me.