Dog spelled backwards is God

This is the tale of Augusta Cyprus Boughner. Never in my life had I ever envisioned my parents getting a dog, and I also didn't expect a worldwide pandemic that created mass chaos. We traveled far too much as a family when I was growing up, so the only pet I ever had was Chris, the Chinese Fighting Fish, who tragically passed after we attempted to move him from a small tank into a larger one. This furthered the idea that we weren't getting a pet like a cat or a dog in my lifetime. My dad grew up with golden retrievers, and my mom did not have a family pet. When the pandemic struck, and we were all forced to work from home, my mom and I presented the idea of a dog to my dad. During dinner, we had a conversation that went as follows:

Mom: If you could get a dog, what breed would it be? (Golden retriever, Lab, or German shepherd.)

Dad: Golden Retriever.

Mom: What gender would the dog be? Boy or Girl?

Dad: Girl

Mom: What would you name this prospective female golden retriever puppy?

Dad: Augusta Cypress, for two golf courses I will never play (and he didn't).

After that conversation and trickery, my mom set out to locate a reputable breeder and set up the arrangements needed to get the house ready for a new addition. The pandemic was in full swing, and everyone in our house of three was working from home. We found a breeder named Pine Cove Retrievers in Apple Creek, Ohio. My mom communicated back and forth for a few weeks, and the name of the pup we settled on was Miska. My dad had a Golden Retriever named Missy when he was younger, which is how we decided on Miska. Miska then became Augusta Cypress (Augusta National in Georgia and Cypress Point in California).

Having a dog in our lives has been an adventure. Shortly after bringing Augusta home, my mom broke her ankle in the yard playing with her. I got a frantic phone call from my dad about coming to the house to stay with the puppy whenever my mom was rushed to the hospital so he could be with her. I remember those days when poor Augusta thought she did something wrong because my mom was there one day, and the next day, she wasn't. It is one of the things I often think about for her.

I wonder what she has made of the last almost ten months without her hooman dad. I know dogs have a strong sense of the supernatural and are more intuitive than we are, but I wonder what her current thinking is. I know for the first few days after he passed, she sat at the top of the driveway waiting for his car to come home, and it never did. Even when the car did come home, he wasn't in it. I am thankful we have the dog. I would worry more about my mom if Augusta wasn't in our lives. At least with Augusta, my mom is kept on her toes. Augusta is also emotionally in tune; whenever my mom cries, she is right there for her.

This process hasn't been easy for any of us. Augusta is a dog who never whimpers; there are times when she is adamant that she doesn't wish to be in a situation, in times that overstimulate her (big crowds and parties). She is not a fan of growing puppies. My cousin has a blue-heeled herding dog named Rowdy that barks at her a good bit, and she always cowers in fear and looks for the door. I do wish she would have enough and growl at him or bark back, but that isn't Augusta. There was a night shortly after my dad passed away when my mom and I were standing in the kitchen talking, and Augusta was upstairs on the bed. She was whimpering. My mom and I looked at each other in stunned shock because Augusta doesn't cry. She makes her "whale noises," as we call them, in a shoutout to Dory from Finding Nemo, attempting to speak whale.

I do not know how I would be able to process this loss without Augusta. I do not know how my mom would be able to process his loss without Augusta. I am a firm believer in "things happen for a reason." We got Augusta for a reason. At the time, we didn't know what that reason was, but now I think we have an understanding. Losing my dad is/was the hardest loss I have ever had. On top of losing him; also, losing Uncle Tom shortly after was the second most brutal loss for me. In talking to my cousin's spouse on a road trip recently, she explained that "lightning could strike only once, but in this case it struck twice". Tom had a dog at home, too, and how do we explain to our furry friends that their hoomans will not return? Dogs understand us. They understand our emotions our words for simple commands followed by knowing they will most likely get a T-R-E-A-T. I spell it out because Augusta knows the word, but I do not think she can spell or read it.

There is a poem I came across on Instagram set to a video of a dog that I wanted to share here:

"And on the ninth day, God looked down on his children and said they need a companion. So God made a dog. God said, "I need someone willing to give kisses, sleep all day, chase cats, roll in something dead, give more kisses, squeak a ball, then take up more than their fair share of the bed." So God made a dog. God said, "I need somebody willing to lick the tears of a child's face then, with unwavering courage, defend their family from strangers. I need somebody who can take a full frozen chicken (or loaf of bread, in our case) off the counter, fetch sticks, chase tails, scarf kibble, and always be ready for a ride in the car. Somebody, who despite your impatience, unwillingness to play fetch, and stubbornness will love you with their whole heart, all the time". So God made a dog, God said "I need somebody brave enough to defend livestock and capture criminals yet gentle enough to visit hospitals and raise puppies. Somebody who will forgive mistreatment and give their heart to a new family. So God made a dog. It had to be somebody with true devotion and dedication, even when left alone for hours. Somebody to love, lick, snuggle, and hug and bow-wow and slobber and fart and leap for a frisbee and woof at the mailman and chase birds. Somebody who would herd a family together with true loyalty and gentle eyes. Somebody who would bark then wag and fetch their leash when their best friend says let's go for a walk. So God made a dog" - Paul Harvey.

Everything in that poem is true, and there needs no reflection here other than to say that I am thankful God made a dog. I am thankful God blessed us with Augusta. He knew the path we would eventually take in our lives, and He knew that although we miss my dad more than anything, we are not alone because we have Augusta. I realize Augusta is not going to live forever either, but we are making the most of her time here, as she is making the most of our time with her.