Augie

Augie came to live with us in January 1996. He was just over six weeks old, and he weighed about 8 pounds. He was a gorgeous honey-colored golden retriever puppy. The breeder had nicknamed him Bubba because they thought it suited his personality. His mother was small, only about 50 pounds, and his father was a grand champion showdog.

Our first golden was named Caesar. It suited his personality. We decided to stay with the Roman emperor theme, so we named the new puppy Augustus, Emperor of Olde Orchard, which is the name of our neighborhood. We called him Augie for short, although the name Bubba stuck with him, and, because he was like a giant teddy bear, we also called him Bear. We got him because Caesar was very destructive during the day when we were at work because he was bored. We figured that if we got him a playmate, it would stop. And that’s exactly what happened. The two of them were attached at the hip from the moment we brought him home.

Augie grew into a 105 pound barrel chested guy. He was huge. He was also the only golden retriever I’ve ever seen with absolutely no interest whatsoever in retrieving. I think he figured it was beneath his imperial dignity.

Instead, what Augie wanted was to be loved. We sometimes called him Bubba the Love Sponge, not because of the idiot shock jock, but because he was like a sponge. He just sucked up the love. His favorite thing to do was to sit next to us on the couch, lean against one of us, and get loved. He would be in heaven. He was the embodiment of unconditional love.

He was a Stepford dog. There was nothing he hated more than being corrected, so we usually only had to tell him not to do something once, and that was that. He was big, gentle, sweet, and the most loving dog in the world. He was also a big fraidy cat. He would not go down the steps until he was almost six months old and 60 pounds. I used to have to carry him down. Finally, one weekend while I was off at Gettysburg, Susan and her mother coaxed him down the steps with bits of hot dog, and that resolved that.

He absolutely adored cold weather and snow. His favorite thing in the world was to lay out in the snow, just enjoying it. We used to refer to cool weather as bear weather. We found it very difficult to get him to come inside when it was bear weather. He just wanted to enjoy it. Another favorite thing of his, as you can tell from the photo, was sitting at the gate to our back yard, just watching the world go by.

Augie was a real Type-B personality. He was very laid back, and definitely a follower. However, when Caesar died, it fell upon him to become the pack leader, even though he wasn’t really suited to it. Other than his bad hayfever allergies, the cataract he developed in one eye, and the bad arthritis that he developed as he got older, we were always really lucky with him–he was always very healthy. He also got very hard of hearing as he got older, but Susan and I were both convinced that some of that was a convenient excuse not to come in out of the bear weather. He would just pretend he couldn’t hear us calling him. 🙂

A couple of weeks ago, he suddenly lost interest in his food. He vomited, and there was grass in it. He’d had gastritis previously, so we figured maybe he was having another attack of gastritis. The next day, he was fine. He was eating, and drinking, and even playing a bit with Aurora and Nero. Everything seemed okay.

This morning, he ate his breakfast, and went outside. He seemed to be okay, so I went to work. When I got home from work, he was laying down, and he’d vomited again. I got the dogs outside, and he just lay down on the ground. That wasn’t like him at all. I brought him in and he wouldn’t eat. He just lay down. I got him to eat a cookie, but that didn’t stay down either. He was obviously in distress, and in my heart of hearts, I knew it was something serious. When I carried him out to the car, I could tell that he’d lost at least 10-15 pounds in the past few weeks, as he was much lighter than I’d remembered in a very long time.

We took him to the emergency vet clinic tonight–they’re open 24/7/365–and they told us what we feared the most. He had advanced cancer, and he was bleeding internally. They gave us two options: risky surgery and chemo that might have bought us six months, or putting him down. Neither Susan nor I could bear the thought of putting him through an ordeal like that at his advanced age, especially if it would only buy us a few months, and even then, nothing was certain. That left us with no option but to put him down.

They gave him an IV and hyrdrated him a bit, and he was up and walking and his tail was wagging, and for a few minutes, it was like he was okay again. But we knew it was temporary. We spent a few minutes with him, snuggling and petting and loving him, and then the vet came in, and he left us quietly, gently, and without suffering. As I would have expected of him, he went quietly into that good night. He just lay his head down and went to sleep. He’s now in heaven with Caesar and Cleo, young and healthy again.

We’ve now lost all three of our original pack of goldens. That’s now three of them in the last three years. Fortunately, Nero is 2 1/2 and Aurora 1 1/2, so hopefully, we’re going to get a break from this for a few years, because the pain is intense. I know we did the only thing we could for Augie, and I know it was truly merciful, but it is incredibly painful and incredibly difficult. I’m cried out and feeling emotionally drained just now. I’ve literally just lost a best friend, and it hurts. A lot.

I know I will see him again some day. For now, though, I miss him already. Sleep well, Augie. You’re missed by Susan, Nero, Aurora, and me. You will always be in our hearts.