Last Friday, Davis loaded Ruby in his truck and they headed to the vet clinic. The shelter had her all checked out and vaccinated, but they don't include a heartworm screening in their standard checkup and we wanted to get her tested as soon as we could.

Through the almost 14 years of having our Sugar, we'd grown accustomed to loving a dog with a surplus of phobias with a trip to the vet being at the very tip top of that lengthy list. Checkups were always just a miserable experience for everyone involved, so we were prepared and very experienced to deal with Ruby if it became apparent that she suffered from the same affliction.

They left and I was anxious to hear a report on her disposition at the doctor's office. I felt like a nervous, new mother, I guess. It wasn't long before Davis called and he was chuckling. He reported that Ruby went in and spoke to everyone with her wagging tail banging against everything in its way. It's important to become acquainted with your healthcare providers, I suppose. When they put her on the table to trim her nails, she rolled over on her back to give them easier access to her belly in the event that they should want to rub it. She was certain that they would want to. Davis said she didn't care what they did to her. She just licked them and stayed on her back, looking all around the room from her upside down vantage point with her hanging lips exposing her teeth as if she was smiling.

Bless it. There wasn't much that Sugar wasn't scared of and yet we've not found anything that scares Ruby. So far, we've experienced fireworks, heavy rain, the vet, gunshots (we live in rural Mississippi, so not to worry), vacuum cleaners, small children, strangers, UPS drivers, and nothing bothers her. All of those things would send our poor Sugar into orbit. Shaking. Panting. She was just a nervous sort from the very beginning, but, from what we've seen, Ruby couldn't be more unconcerned.

Behavior and personality are other areas where they differ. Sugar stayed in our yard for the most part. Even in her younger years, she never bothered anything. Her desire for her world to remain calm and predictable kept her from getting into any trouble or doing anything unwise. She was a rule follower. And kind of a wallflower. She liked to keep to herself and her family. She was quite content to lead a quiet life.        

In contrast, the neighbors have seen me struggling to get our current pet back home.....breathless and toting Ruby, who's gone limp in protest, while clutching a turtle's shell between her teeth. (We can only pray it wasn't someone's pet.) I'm in my pajama pants, mumbling something under my breath about how she better be glad she's so cute. My hands under her armpits and her long body dangling between my knees as I walk; trying to get her hardheaded self home from introducing herself to the neighborhood. As we await our underground fence installation, she's brought home the neighbor's flip flops, chewed through the shoe strings of my new tennis shoes, faked tee-teeing in order to acquire a treat, continues to be vigilant in moss retrieval, and ate part of a Brillo pad, which resurfaced, the next morning, if you know what I mean. I find myself texting SOS messages to Davis. Pleas like the ones I used to ask of him when the kids were little and I stayed home with them....."Please, tell me you'll be home soon?!"

I was sitting on the floor with Ruby and stroking her head, the other night, and I told Davis that I didn't think I was going to love Ruby the same way I loved Sugar. I didn't mean that I wouldn't grow to love her as deeply, but I think it will just be a different kind of love. Sugar had needs and fears and dependence issues and so I loved her in an assuring, nurturing way. She really needed a lot. She relied on me a lot for peace of mind and encouragement.

Ruby. Well, she needs none of that. Since the minute her sedatives wore off from her girly surgery, we don't see where she needs anybody for much of anything except to fill her food bowl and throw her ball. She's pretty sure of herself. Confident. Under the impression that everyone should have the privilege of meeting her. She hasn't run to me for any kind of comfort or reassurance. She does love to cuddle, when she doesn't have more pressing matters to tend to like, say, moss displacement or turtle butchery. She's just an independent girl, which I suppose that comes from her former life. To love her the same way I loved Sugar would probably just get on her very last nerve and not meet any of her needs.  

During this completely different experience, I've been thinking how, like the two dogs, I guess we don't really love all people in the same way either. Our kids. Parents. Friends. Co-workers. Everybody has their own story and their own set of quirks, strengths, fears, needs, and experiences. Everyone we meet needs something different from us. And while we love all of our children the same amount, we may not love them in the same ways. We certainly don't parent them the same, because they each respond to things differently. We quickly learn what each person in our lives needs and we try to meet them there in those places. To love everyone the same would be to patch some spots that don't really need care and attention in some people and to leave other holes that they do have gaping and empty.

I don't imagine God loves us all the same either. I don't mean He has favorites or loves some more than others. I just think He knows all of us so intimately....down to the very center of who we are and where we've been. He made us and calls us His children, so if anyone would know what we need from Him, He would be the one. He knows where we're hardheaded and go limp in protest if we're reined in. He knows what makes us anxious and what we need to help us stop shaking. He knows what we're really good at and the places where we're most confident. He knows where we're weakest and the things that make us feel unworthy and self-conscious. He knows the kind of encouragement we need to carry out His plan for our lives. He knows the people to send to love and help us along the way. He knows that the kind of love one of us needs might be wasted on the next person. He knows us all by heart and I think He fashions His love toward us accordingly.  

So, as Davis and I wind down our child rearing and are shifting gears (bigtime) in our dog rearing, I'm reminded to be glad that we have a God, who tailors His love and care to fit each one of His children. We are all uniquely made. All uniquely loved by Him.
 

Y'all have a wonderful day!