|Entry in Paper Mama's photo challenge: Pets.|
I remember the day we picked him out. Travis and I sat on the floor, looking on as a multitude of puppies yipped and nipped and climbed into our laps. As we picked through the litter to find the perfect puppy, my eyes rested on him. The little brown mass of wiggles who jumped on his littermates and bit at their paws.
"Oh, let's get the spunky one!"
Those words will forever haunt our lives.
We asked for spunk, and we got it. We got a dog who characterizes the epitome of short man syndrome: weighing in at less than 10 pounds, he has the attitude of a dog fifty times his size. He's not afraid to charge strangers and bark at their feet. He's fiercely protective. He's fearless.
He has a crooked tooth which makes his lip curl up, creating the effect of a continuous snarl. His little brain is consumed with food, and he is quick to steal your lunch if you're not watchful. His breath is horrendeous, and no amount of brushing will change that. He wants to mark everything in sight, creating a lot of trouble in our household. His bark is shrill and neverending.
He is loyal. He is affectionate. He wants nothing more than to cuddle and be loved. He loves my baby and turns into a ball of mush around him.
He is completely imperfect. A stranger couldn't love this dog.
But I do.
He reminds me of God's grace. How very similar am I to this dog. Like Booda, my list of imperfections is long, and my list of positive qualities is short. There's not much to love, if I'm honest. But just like I can't help but love that dog, God loves me. He accepts me; makes me His own. And even though I do the same annoying things over and over again, never seeming to "get it," my place in the family of God is secure.
Oh, how thankful I am today that God loves the unlovely!