Monday, December 5, 2011


My Norman.

He turned six years old yesterday. 42 to those in the four-legged world.

I remember the day we got him like it was yesterday. We headed south of the cities to "take a look at" some basset puppies we'd read about in a newspaper ad. When we got there, two female, rowdy, hyper, jumping, barking, biting bassets sat awaiting our attention. We were less then thrilled and admitted to the breeder we were looking more for a male but we thanked her for letting us take a look anyway. Before we turned to leave, she mentioned she did have a male puppy… in the back.

Out she brought him. An all brown, lazy, dopey, brown-eyed, crooked-legged, low-ridin', long-eared, beautiful basset boy. He was exactly what we were looking for! We saw him, we fell in love, we paid a discounted price for him and took him home with us. He sat on my lap in the bitchin' Beretta the whole way home, quietly whining and looking a bit sheepish. On the drive, he came to be known as Norman; named after the cow in City Slickers. To this day, he remains the only impulsive thing Shawn and I have ever done.

While he tests our patience with his barking and his ever-present goober, Norman truly is a sweet, loving, good-natured, dopey old soul. He loves to sniff up and kiss on Miss Mae and she can't get enough of watching our gentle giants. If Norman had his way, he would eat peanut butter and cheese every single day whilst laying butt-to-butt with his buddy Leo in front on our fireplace. He does not like to be outside because he does not like to be cold and really, he just likes to be where we are. Going for a walk is the highlight of his life, although he generally peters out pretty quickly. His face is going prematurely white and his leg is as crooked as ever. He has a fear of wires, plastic bags, vacuums, brooms and pretty much anything else with a handle. He favorite spot to be rubbed is right between his two front legs, which is coincidentally right where his patch of naturally white hair resides. His reputation precedes him on Ruggles Street and thank goodness because he has managed to escape a couple times. Each time he meandered two houses down and thankfully, was easily coerced and returned by Mr. Tim. He is not the brightest light in the harbor, not by a long stretch, but he remains the cutest dog I've ever seen.



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