Goodbye, Auggie.
Veronica Bane
Auggie, I don’t even understand how I’m writing this. A life without you seems impossible, and I keep thinking you’re just asleep in another room. I swear I hear you walking around the house, the sound of your nails click-clacking along the floors a constant echo in my mind. I don’t know how to be me without you. You’ve been part of my life for so long, and not having you here is unimaginable. All I do is miss you, and I’m sure that will never stop.
You came into my life as a surprise nearly twelve years ago. I had decided to volunteer at an animal shelter and ended up adopting you instead. It was the best decision I could have ever made. You were one-of-a-kind from the beginning when you hopped up next to me in that tiny play pen at the shelter. Once I got you home, I learned that you loved to snuggle up with us and chase tennis balls. As you got older, you faced challenge after challenge, but you always persevered and came out happier than ever. You just loved being a dog, loved being with us, loved being our baby.
You were there for us through our hardest times. When my mom died, you never left my side. A few months after she passed, you faced your hardest health challenge. We were sure we would lose you as you fought a heart condition. And yet, you survived. You survived and did so well that the doctor told us he literally had no idea how you had done it, how you had come out the other side with a healthy heart. But I knew how. You were a miracle, and you knew how much we needed you to stay with us. That was four years ago. Later, you’d lose your sight and even an eye, but it didn’t stop you from loving life. You’d let us know—loudly—when it was time to eat or go for a walk. You’d use your nose to sniff after every crumb in the house. You might not have been able to see very well, but you knew when a Fruit Loop was under the couch.
Food was a constant love for you from the moment we brought you home, and no food was safe when you were around. You ate entire bags of Halloween candy that you sniffed out from closets. You pretended to sleep so we would drop our guard and you could snag tacos off of our plates.
When you weren’t searching for food, you were with us, cuddled up and snoring. You were the gentlest, sweetest dog I’ve ever known. You loved being next to us on the bed or on the couch or nearby on the floor. You didn’t mind when we brought home kittens back in November, even when your new little brother just wanted to follow you around and lick your face. Even when he tried to play with you by nipping your paws, you just rolled over or walked away. And when you were asleep, both kittens—now cats—would find you and nap alongside you. You were like that back when we had Minnie, our senior cat that we inherited from my mom. You let her grumble like an old lady around you, wagging your tail, not sure what her deal was. You were just happy to be there. Happy to be loved. Happy to be with us, in our home, whether we were watching a movie or reading a book. Your little tail, more nubbin than anything else, would always be going back and forth.
Back when we went for long walks, your short little legs worked overtime to make you the fastest dog ever. As I said, tennis balls were your favorite, but you would also chase garbage trucks and motorcycles if you got the chance. When walking for long distances got to be too hard, we got you a stroller, and you learned to love it. During this lockdown, you’d bark to demand a stroller walk at exactly 11:30 a.m. That was one of the best things about you, and one of the greatest lessons you taught us. If something happened to you, even something hard, you just figured out how to deal with it and moved along. You saw life as a gift, and even if that gift looked different than yesterday, you were going to make the most of it.
Your curly fur made you the cutest dog on the planet, so cute that we were stopped everywhere we went with you. And you went all over. You lived in Orange County, San Diego, and three different places in Los Angeles. My mom had been insistent that we get a house with a yard for you, and we were finally able to do that after she passed. You loved your yard, hunting for things in the bushes to eat no matter how many times we told you not to. During your older days, a raccoon showed up in the yard, and you bumped into it by accident. A little bit of your younger self came back as you charged after it, telling it off for being in your domain.
You had a fearlessness always, as if you knew you would live as long as possible. You made it almost 15 years, and I can’t begin to thank you for all that you did for us. I am especially, weirdly grateful to have had five months where we got to stay home and be with you for the entire day. You were a perfect dog, and I will love you forever and always. My boy, my Auggaboo, my angel. I love you and miss you so much. Goodbye for now.
