August Megargee (1984-2000) "Augie" "The Poocher" "The Augmeister" "The Maestro"

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He was a good dog.  He wasn't always an obedient dog, but he was a good dog.

He was adopted from the Charlottesville SPCA.  He wasn't even mine, at first-- he was my girlfriend's.  But when man and woman parted ways, she had to bow to the clear kinship between man and dog and release custody.

Man, he was a cute puppy.  At right, he was in his awkward rat-dog phase.  He lost his first teeth during a sock-pulling contest (I swear, I wasn't pulling that hard) on April 25, 1985.  Taking 4 months as the standard time to lose one's teeth, I back-dated his birth to Christmas, 1984.  Every Christmas featured a treat with a candle-- a piece of fruitcake, a pig's ear, gravy-soaked bread.

Defiant? You bet.  As a puppy he staunchly resisted my oppressive commands.  Two occasions jump out from his first year. There was a plate of cookies on the coffee table.  In the minute he was in the living room while I was putting my shoes on to take him out, I heard slurping noises.  The wee puppy had his front feet on the table and was reaching for what was now the last cookie.  I cried "AUGIE!  NO! BAD DOG!"  He looked at me.  He looked back at the cookie.  I said "Don't you dare!" He looked back and forth.  He decided he'd have 15 years to make it up to me, but he might never have another sugar cookie. We went to a garden so I could read and he could exercise.  He found some poo in the ivy.  He started the approach, twisting his neck to initiate the long, driving roll which would blanket him in the elusive scent of other dogs' excrement.  I yelled and stopped him short.  We repeated this exercise 3 times over the next half-hour.  Finally, the temptation was too much.  Furious, I chased him for several minutes before he realized it was hopeless.  I shook and scolded him, and we walked home for a bath.  We were both out of sorts--- me still angry, him chastened and sulky, until he realized he had escaped with a full, intact turd on his back.  He saw it, brightened, and strutted proudly home with his trophy.

He loved to hump legs.  Despite being neutered at 6 months, and never going fully to leg-up peeing, he could wear calluses on your shins. I honored his neutering by planning a party, complete with ball-and-sticks motif.  I promptly got a tremendous arm break, which kept me in a cast for several months and likely ending my hopes at an NBA career.  Augie sensed the karmic justice at the party which he attended and I, doped up on painkillers, could not. Two days later, he was back humping legs.

Smartest dog in the world?  No freakin' way.  But he had his moments. 1) While never being the kind of attentive dog who effortlessly follows his master, looking for approval, Augie at least made an effort to listen to instruction.  We could walk, untethered, along the busiest of streets in his prime.  He could even heel without a leash with other dogs in the area, but it required constant verbal admonitions and resulted in a jerky, forgetting-remembering kind of walk. 2) My friend Jay and I taught him to bow (arms extended) one evening while watching The Ten Commandments, talking like Yul Brynner, and tossing him popcorn.  That was easily his intellectual highpoint. 3) While not a Rhodes Scholar, he at least proved himself the equal of my sister, who allowed my other sister to lie her down and pour milk in her mouth in imitation of a Stupid Pet Trick.  Augie watched, licking his lips, while it slowly dawned upon her that the trick would be him lapping milk out her open mouth.

Unbelievably fast for a non-racing dog.  And could leap like a flea.  Could effortlessly hop over UVa's serpentine walls.

When Maddie was brought home from the hospital, he strutted proudly around her room.  He was a good older brother to her.  When she was too small to play with him, she'd roar with laughter as he walked by.  He'd lie down near her on the floor. When she was big enough to play with him, he was already going senile.  To me and Louise, he didn't want to be petted, and panicked when cornered or approached too closely.  But with Maddie, he never moved abruptly, and he allowed her to walk around the house with him, patting him on the back. Maddie was never afraid of monsters in the house, because Augie was responsible for keeping them out.

At age 14, he was sometimes mistaken for a puppy.  But last year he started his decline.  Diminished hearing, foggy eyes.  Lost flexibility in his hips.  Very confused. He finally had to be put to sleep on April 25, 2000.  His last meal was the rib bones that veterinarians had so cruelly denied him for so many years. 15 and a half years is a pretty great run.  He met a lot of people, went a lot of places, saw gardens, parks, streets, and beaches.  Tasted marshmallows, ribs, and popcorn. Smelled a lot of smells.  Was almost never sick.  Received and gave a lot of love. We'll miss you buddy.