Man's Best Friend: Scratchin' at the Door

This is Honour, my Labradoodle

I used to beg Mom and Dad for a dog.  Now, I'm no longer the one doing the begging.

This guy is.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love him.  He's fluffy, his greetings for when I finally make it to sweet home Alabama are the best, he loves to play hide and go seek and he always wants to be with "his people," as Mom would say.

But when he hogs the bed and then proceeds to wake me up at 5:30 a.m. for breakfast, I may not be his number one fan.  He sure does know how to be persistent though.  Rolling over and facing the other side doesn't fool him.

I suppose that's a quality to be loved and hated.  Honestly, I'd want him to be persistent to the point of annoyance with me if the house were on fire or something else went terribly wrong.  I'd rather him be a bugger about the fact that he needs to go out to go "potty" rather than have to clean up the carpet.  But when he stands and scratches at my bedroom door for me to get up, out of a warm bed, mind you, to let him in so he can hog my bed, yeah, thanks, but no thanks.

Seems he's not the only one scratching at my door.

"Look! I stand at the door and knock.  If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in and we will share a meal together as friends." Revelation 3:20

He's not being nice and knocking at the door before he proceeds to blow the whole house down like some kind of big, bad wolf; He knocks because He knows that I have to be the one to let Him in.  It's a decision I have to make, it can't be made for me.

Much like opening the door for my sweet puppy, He promises to come in and treat me like a friend.  He promises to greet me with, "Hey, sweetheart!" instead of, "Who are you?!"

Why wait? It's time to get out of bed, cross the room and open the door to a friend.  Man's true best friend.