My dog just completed her first round of cancer treatments. My wife and I prayed for Hey Girl, cared for her, and fussed over her just as we would have for any other family member. When it came time to pay the bills, we didn’t blink. She’s family. 

Before we noticed the growth on her jowl, she exhibited a Hey Girl-ness that made her so good to have around: strong, athletic, intense on one hand, incredibly smart, cuddly and loving on the other. Truly a dog of contrasts, she was (and is) nearly six feet tall when she stands stretched on her hind legs, but could curl up into a basketball size ball of fur to nap. 

The injections and chemo treatment seemed to take some of the zip out of her, but we were just thankful she was still with us. But the treatments didn’t affect her for long. Pretty soon, she was the complete Hey Girl package again.  

One of the best times was (and is) when we got ready to go somewhere in the car. Hey Girl had figured out the when we grabbed the keys, it was ride time (and maybe a Starbuck’s puppacino too). Sometimes, in expectation and having learned the cues, she’d start getting excited and turn circles well before we locked up.  

She was often right about going for a ride. But sometimes she was wrong. When she was wrong, the disappointment lasted a moment and then she was back, looking forward to the next life adventure. 

One day, while watching a (nearly) one hundred pound dog turn circles and bound around, it occurred to me that we should all live in such great anticipation. Romans 8 instructs us to hope for what we do not see. Romans 12 instructs us to rejoice in hope and wait patiently. I’m pretty sure that Hey Girl has never read these verses, yet she hopes for the delights in her life and patiently waits for the next time if not this time. The example of dogs.