Auggie

Time is such an interesting thing. Both finite and infinite. We can measure it and count it, but we can't hold it or manipulate it, and we certainly can't control it. We're obsessed with time. Constantly searching for more of it while also wasting multitudes of it with our eyes glued to a screen.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines time as the part of existence that is measured in minutes, days, years, etc. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary adds that time is a nonspatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future.

Today I was reminded just how precious time is. There's only one guarantee in this world, and that is that our time on this planet is finite. When you're born to parents pushing middle age as a child, you grow up acutely aware that death is an inevitability. Not a question of if, but when. I have been fortunate not to have dealt with a lot of loss in my life.

But today hurt, and I know the loss will continue to hurt. But as my dad said, for there to be grief, there had to be joy first. Auggie was just that, joy.

Flashback to Christmas 2012: my evil Santa puzzle consisted of five different flags of different countries, with the first letter of each country spelling out PUPPY. We brought Auggie home on January 2, 2013.

I remember being very unsure about this. He snarled at me on the car ride home, as he was starving and very protective of the bone I was holding. Turns out, he was very unsure about us, too. Within the first month of being part of the Dubbert family, he decided to try out another family while we were at a movie. He got past the gate and followed a family that was walking in the neighborhood. We only know this as they left a voicemail telling us that they put him back in the gate. He acted so excited to see us when we got back home from the movie.

At that point, I guess he decided being with us was better than being with anyone else, so he decided to stay.

We didn't fully appreciate just how young he was when he came to us. He had so much energy, could run and jump for HOURS. We even put up a sort of punching bag for him to run at, jump on, and chew.

Not everyone got to see the sweet side of Auggie, but boy, did he love his family. He became my greatest protector and took his job very seriously. No one was allowed within a foot radius of my being when he was around.

He loved walks (and determining the route), belly rubs, and romaine lettuce. Most days started with some combination of those three things. He slept upside down on the couch, hated when anyone would take his picture, and had the biggest attitude. He loved the beach and the snow. He was smart, independent, and oh so mischievous, but cute enough to get away with it.

He lived through three floods and a human sister moving away and traveling all too frequently after she moved back.

Most importantly, he was loved.

Every memory of Auggie brings a smile to my face. He brought us so much joy.

October 17, 2025, marked the end of the finite time that Auggie had with us and that we had with him.

It was unexpected and swift, and what a blessing that is to all parties.

He was a happy boy, perhaps the goodest of all the good boys.

My hope is that he's debriefing Pilgrim and Duke on all things Dubbert and swapping stories.

As I said earlier, we can't control time. The infinite spectrum began long before our first breaths and will continue long after our last breaths. One thing we can do is to enjoy the time we have with the people and creatures around us. The joyful memories make the grief and the tears bearable.

Perhaps Winnie the Pooh said it best, "How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."