When I started this blog, I promised those that I was leaving behind on Facebook and Instagram that I’d keep it updated with photos of Norma, and I’m here to make good on that promise.
“How’s Norma?” is the question I am usually asked first when I run into people I haven’t seen in a while. The assumption is, I suppose, that Marc is doing fine. He’s young (relatively) and healthy (objectively), and statistically speaking can be expected to be doing fine, anyway. Norma, however, is old, and everyone knows it.
Everyone, that is, except for Norma. She’s just a few months shy of 15 now, and is changing in all of the expected ways, but remains as feisty, playful, observant, and maddeningly protective as ever. It’s true that she can’t actually complain to us about being old. But I’m pretty sure that even if she could, she wouldn’t.
Norma doesn’t need 6+ vigorous daily miles of hiking anymore (hallelujah), and is generally content with a couple of ambling miles in the park that are more sniff than walk. She’s lost her youthful speed and hops, and I can tell that the squirrels know when they’re in the presence of a geriatric terrier. I don’t think she’s noticed that they no longer flee when they see her coming; she enjoys lunging at them anyway. Norma has one of those little sets of stairs now, a big ol’ lump on her belly (it’s been checked and is just fat; there’s no medical reason to put her through removing it, so it stays), eats a special diet to protect those little kidneys, and has gone pretty deaf. But she’s got a mouth full of healthy teeth, a good appetite, and plenty of spunk. Her days of diving into the ocean waves may be behind her, but she still loves a walk on the beach and a messy roll in the sand. And she still greets us with vigor, still enjoys the thrill of a new squeaky toy, and will still do just about anything for a bite of your lunch.