His name was Rocky. Ten years ago, our son and his wife adopted this (generally) adorable black hairy beast, a rescue. Rocky died this week, leaving a hole in his family’s hearts and ours. He was a challenge in his pre-elderly years, but even though he was imperfect, he was also dearly loved.

This black fur ball was one of a dozen dogs the authorities removed from a home. During the day, they were locked in a small room and fought for food. Rocky was the Alpha male who asserted his dominance. Even though he was only two years old when he became our granddog, that situation created behaviours that were difficult, if not impossible, to change. When he arrived in a home where fighting for food and survival was no longer necessary, he viewed the kitchen as a treasure trove of delectable delights awaiting his enjoyment.

Rocky was tall enough to reach anything unattended on any counter. His new family employed numerous methods to curb this behaviour. A notable one was the Early Warning System—cookie sheets lined up and overhanging the edge of the counter so the noise would startle him when he jumped to snatch something. The plan was to scare him enough to desist in the future. Unfortunately, the solution was only temporary on Rocky’s part; however, the heart attack it almost caused Grandma could have had permanent ramifications.

Rocky’s favourite forbidden food at our house was birthday cake. More than once, he stole it when the whole clan was visiting, and distractions abounded. Fortunately, he sneaked it post- rather than pre-party. The children were disappointed, but it wasn’t as traumatic as it could have been.

On one occasion, he enjoyed his unsanctioned cake snack in our study/sewing room, where, in theory, we had hidden it. Someone hadn’t latched the door properly, and enough delicious aroma escaped to beckon Trouble. I heard the bang of the cake pan hitting the floor as one of the babies napping upstairs started wailing. I feared baby one would awaken baby two, and being the only adult in the house, I dashed upstairs rather than immediately dealing with the dog. In the short interim it took to settle the little one, the sneaky creature smeared cake all over the side of my sewing machine and the hardwood floor. He then tracked sticky footprints all over the main level of the house. Ah, the memories!

Due to his early years, Rocky never overcame his hatred of other dogs, meaning his humans had to modify their behaviour to keep him away from other pooches. But Rocky loved the humans in his world and gave them his unconditional love. Watching my grandkids snuggle and cuddle their beloved canine was heartwarming. Watching my son do the same and play with his pet even when the kids weren’t around showed me how much this imperfect but dearly loved creature had become a part of their family. Rocky the rescue wasn’t an ideal specimen of woofdom, but he gave love in abundance to his family.

I, too, am a rescue. Like Rocky, I’m also an imperfect specimen—but of womanhood rather than woofdom. No matter how hard I try, I mess up. But God loves me and rescued me from an eternity of suffering. Jesus died for me, and I have eternal life by believing in him, changing my direction, and following him. John 3:16 says, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” God rescued me, just as Rocky’s family rescued him. And I am loved beyond my wildest dreams by a God who wants what’s best for me.

Not only does God love me, but I love him. How can I not when I know the price he paid? His son died so that I could live. And because he loves me, I can extend grace to others who are also imperfect. We are all rescues with some undesirable behaviours and attitudes, and knowing that, I can see people through the lens of God’s grace. The gift Rocky gave his family was love, and the gift I can give back to God is my love. And that love encompasses the rest of his family.

Rocky misbehaved sometimes, well, a lot of times, but his family still loved him. As he matured, his behaviour improved, and as we grow in our faith, we become more like Christ. Will we ever be able to move from imperfect to perfect? Not in this lifetime. But our love for God will grow if we allow it to, and as it does, our desire to honour and please him grows too. We have all done things that hurt his heart, but like Rocky’s family, God still loves us.

I’m so happy to have had Rocky in our lives. It made me happy to see him making my son, his wife and his children happy. I won’t miss the dog hair everywhere imaginable or needing to hide food in the cupboards, oven, pantry, etc. when they visit. But I will miss the imperfect but dearly loved black hairy beast’s sweet and loving nature and the walking reminder of God’s love and grace for me. Who knew a difficult yet lovable dog could teach me so much?

Farewell, dear Rocky.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Romans 8:38–39