Norm was a good dog. I don’t say that about a lot of dogs, mainly because a lot of dogs bark unnecessarily, and unnecessary barking is unnecessary. I’ve tried explaining this logic to barking dogs in a calm civil manner, but have found it as useful as using reason with a toddler. There is no reason, there is no reasoning, there is only noise. Norm was not noisy, Norm was reasonable, thus, Norm was a good dog.

Dogs are said to be “man’s best friend”, but I have a sneaky suspicion that if dogs had opposable thumbs, and could read well enough to pass a driving test and order carry out, our friendship would turn cool, leaning more towards acquaintances. Someone they used to know, someone they hung out with before life got so complicated.

You would wave as they drove by with heads poking out of every window, one of them would ask, “Who was that?” Your dog would pull his head in, reflect for a moment as he stares down the road in front of him…humming softly to the radio, and say, “He used to be my best friend, but you know how it is…we grew apart.” The other dogs would slowly nod as thoughts of their former best friends flittered about with long ago memories of fetch, sit, roll over, and rope tug-o-war.

One of them would lament, “Man, by best friend could throw! He could have played centerfield for the Yankees, but he hit the sauce more consistently than he could hit a curveball, so I spent a lot of time trying to cheer him up. It was exhausting, and slightly humiliating, but what’s a dog to do?”

I suspect dog’s, like people, have other dog’s that they enjoy hanging out with more than others. Dog’s they can just be dog’s around. Run full tilt, wallow in a muddy creak, roll in something rank, chase a few cat’s…whatever…no judgement. I suspect this because my dog, Pre, a quiet, mild mannered black lab, is not very chummy with other dogs. Any dog, other than Norm that is. If dog’s can have a best friend, Norm was Pre’s. They never had a spat, they shared water and food dishes without so much as growl. They were best friends.

Norm was my good friend Paul’s dog. A quiet, mild mannered yellow lab, who loved a bumpy ride through a pasture in a pickup box above all else. Recently, Norm wasn’t feeling well, and it was discovered that he had developed several inoperable tumors on several major organs. Paul had to have Norm put to sleep. Just because a decision is for the best doesn’t make it any easier to make.

Paul and I have known each other for over twenty years. We’ve never had a spat, we’ve shared a lot of laughs, spilt a bit of rum, and traveled near and far without so much as a growl. Although, unlike Norm and Pre, we’ve never been compelled to sniff the south end of a northbound friend. Every good friendship has boundaries.

Norm, you were a good dog, and you are missed by all who had the pleasure of knowing you.