I had the name before I had the dog: Augie, short for Augustus. I’d read Lonesome Dove for the first time over the summer and become enamored with Augustus McCrae, the quick-witted, sharpshooting cowboy with a heart of gold. I imagined owning a little dog like Gus: loyal, clever, loving, and a bit hardheaded.
The facts of Augie’s life are thus: He wound up at a West Texas rescue shelter as a ten-week-old puppy. I adopted him over the phone a few days later. My partner, Marshall, and I spent three weeks counting down the days until we’d get him, starting every morning with a declaration: Only fourteen days until Augie! Only three days until Augie! On October 28, we drove from San Marcos to San Antonio, where we met someone from the shelter—and Augie—at a Bass Pro Shops parking lot. After we brought him home, we’d sit around, like new parents, watching him breathe and wondering what he’d be like when he got older.
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