I have a dog named August. A lot of people ask if that was the month she was born and our answer is, "No" because she was born in January. I actually came up with the name while I was brainstorming names on the way to pick her up. For whatever reason the band, Counting Crows, went through my head, and I remembered their 1st album, August and Everything After. Though both great, they're not my favorite band and it's not my favorite album. I just like the thought of the name, August.
I never knew that August was actually used as a name, and for that matter, usually for boys. One of our friends actually got mad because he was planning on naming his 1st son, August, and now he couldn't because of our dog. I guess I can relate, because I got mad at my friend for naming his dog, Winston Churchill. My son, Nolan, could've been Winston Churchill Hopping.
Anyway, August is a Beagle/Golden Retriever mix. As you can see from the pic above, she's all Beagle, which makes it weird that we got her from a Golden Retriever Rescue. There are some Golden Retriever supporters out there who think she should only claim to be Beagle, but much like my white friend whose parents are from South Africa (technically making her African American), she's going to apply for any scholarships that may apply to her.
When August was a puppy, we used to have a rabbit that would chill in our backyard. Every night when I let August out, she would shoot off the porch and the rabbit would flee under the fence to the same spot. One night, August showed a flash of brilliance, by shooting off the porch and instead of running at the rabbit, she ran to the spot where the rabbit was going. They got there at the same time and collided. They both stopped and stared at each other, neither knowing what they were supposed to do next, and then the rabbit raced back towards me heading under the fence near me. I always wondered what would happen if Elmer Fudd finally caught Bugs Bunny, and I think I saw it.
We've had August for about 4 years now, and she's been a great dog. With the arrival of our 2 young boys, she is showing the patience of every guy who saw the movie, Hope Floats, on a date. My son, Winston Churchill, I mean, Nolan, and August have a love/hate relationship. He loves her and she hates him. I guess "hate" is a strong word, but I don't see her inviting him to any dinner parties soon. He chases her around the house, grabs her by the tail, and I'm pretty sure I've seen him reading to her from the 2003 tax law book. She takes it gracefully though. She doesn't bite or growl. I think, deep down she loves him and would fight off anyone that tried to hurt him, including pirates who might come to steal him in the middle of the night. This is what truly sets her apart from that dog in Peter Pan.
I appreciate August's politeness and loyalty. Whenever I leave, even to just take out the trash, she's waiting at the door for my return. I've had a few dogs in my lifetime, even one that I had for 16 years growing up, but August stands apart. Maybe it's because she's the first dog who was truly mine in that I've been fully responsible in caring for and training. Whatever it is, she holds a special place in our family, and a special smell in our noses when she excitedly excretes. I'll let her type this last part out:
"fsgneronobrn SAVE ME FROM THE BOY! rbklfnlknoienoinownfknlknfl"
Dave (and August)
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