Our dog Finn descends from 34 years of Woolsey biblical lineage.

Jonah the blue merle Sheltie landed 18 months into our marriage. Followed by Delilah the Labrador Retriever. Then Shad(rach) the Standard Poodle and Zeke (short for Ezekiel) the Bichon Frise for the only dual-canine monarchy we’ve known.

Four years ago: Finn the Goldendoodle.

With grandchildren joining the mix we decided Biblical names should be judiciously attributed to canines. So we went with the shortened form of one of Eli’s evil sons – Phinehas – somewhat sure none of our progeny would go there. 

So far so good.
 
 Unlike his evil namesake, Finn epitomizes friendliness. He greets close family and unknown UPS delivery workers identically: Toy in mouth pleading for play. No semblance whatsoever of a watchdog.

He also embodies compassion. Literally. He magically appears when your emotions move off-center up or down. 

Angry? Finn materializes next to you. Sad? Finn nudges you with his body. Laughing raucously? Finn wedges into the crowd hoping to grab some overflow joy.

Without thinking you begin petting him. Miraculously the stress migrates from your being into his. You arrive supernaturally back at center.

Which he’s cool with. Seemingly destined and designed for.

Confession: I’m not a huge dog person. I like them ok. But just to a point. 

Finn the Feelings dog, though? His innate desire to become my burden depository speaks of a Creator who thinks about everything. Even when I’m clueless.

That’s a pretty awesome God. Finn’s a pretty awesome dog.