I couldn’t find her anywhere. All the doors leading to potential danger were firmly closed so I wasn’t panicking, but the house is small. There are only so many places she could be and she wasn’t in any of them. Suddenly, as I scoured the kitchen and living room with a quick eye, I heard a faint voice saying, “Walking, walking, walking.” Her voice with it’s confidence and bravado, and that distinct mix of baby and little girl. I love that voice.

She was on the back porch sitting cross-legged in front of the newly acquired dog kennel, facing its occupant. Inside, unsure of everything, was a small puppy, black with a streak of speckled white going down his chest and sprinkling his front paws. Jett’s first day with us was nerve-wracking for him. He spent most of it cowering directly under our feet, or hiding behind the washing machine. His tail seemed permanently down and his eyes ever shifting.

Ray loved him immediately, as we had little doubt she would. She has a heart for God’s creatures, and this one stole a piece as soon as she glimpsed Daddio carrying him out of the truck. But that first day was a tough one for him and for us. Why were we doing this? Puppies are high maintenance. Especially if you want it to grow to be a reasonable dog. Just like a child, if you put in the time early, the later years are easier. Not without trial, but easier. Through the ear-piercing yips and multiple nightly trips to the backyard, the question stands highlighted in our minds, what possessed us to do this??? Did we seriously think we had time for this now?

“Walking, walking, walking.” A pile of books stood neatly stacked next to Ray as she flipped slowly through the open book on her lap. Appropriately chosen, Ray was reading Mirabelle Goes for a Walk to Jett as he draped himself along the side of the kennel. What used to be a tight, black ball of fearful fur had finally settled down and relaxed. The story very simply recounts Mr. Muller taking his Boston Terrier out for a walk. Ray didn’t read, but retold the story to Jett as she saw it. Mr. Muller was walking, so she told Jett. The sun existed, so she told Jett. The trees were intermittent, so she told Jett. It appeared that Mr. Muller was falling (he’s just running), so she expressed great concern to Jett. She even added a firm “the end” as she closed the book.

Being a two year old with a very limited ability to talk to me, I don’t know why she was reading to Jett on our back porch. Perhaps it’s because he’s new. Perhaps it’s because she was bored. Perhaps it’s because Willa and her parents don’t listen attentively enough and he was, quite literally, a captive audience. Or perhaps it’s because something inside her understood that he was scared, and knew that if she felt as he felt she would want someone to sit beside her and read under the dark sky. It’s so easy to see in her toddlerhood the fallenness of man, and to miss the moments where God enables her to glorify himself. We think she’s big enough to be full of sin, but too little to be glorifying God. But we’re wrong (see 1 Timothy 4:12). He created her and put a huge helping of compassion inside that body, especially for those smaller than herself. And animals. I choose to see what she did for Jett during his first night as a picture of what we should always be doing to one another. Simply loving.

And that is the picture I hold to when the dog really starts to annoy. The yipping during afternoon naps. The accidents in the kennel. The chewing and the jumping and the toe nibbling. When I start to forget why we incorporated him into our family I remember that God can and will use this little creature to help Ray grow her ability to love on others. I’ve little doubt there are many future lessons in store for me as I watch the girls and their dog grow up together.