I am looking after - more like looking in on - my friends' dog.
Now, I was unsurprised by the outpouring of doggy-emotion that greeted my arrival when I came to feed him today. You expect that from a dog.
I never grew up with dogs. We were a cat-family. And now I see why that was intended by God for my well-being. And it wasn't in order to protect me from dog-stink. It was to give me a glimpse into my own self.
Leave a cat alone and you come back to resentment. Hard-looks and wounded feelings. Eventually she forgives - but she never forgets.
A dog, on the other hand. You can't leave them alone for two minutes. Needy. But grateful when you come back.
Which are you like? Easily wounded, but effusive and ever-forgiving? Or, slow to anger and very slow to forgive?
I am the resentful cat. Yes, I like my distance, but don't think that means I don't care. I'm watching you.
Now, which one is God like?
It's hard not to think of Him as the ever-grateful, ever-forgiving, ever-slathering, dog.
Yet, of course, to be theologically accurate here, God is not like people who are like dogs. Dogs are like people who are like God.