Norm Stories From Everyday Life: Music Appreciation (or Lack Thereof)

One of the reasons I believe that Norm was always so relaxed and happy is that we had a routine and we stuck with it. Morning walk. Breakfast. Leave for work. Come home for lunch and let Norm out for his mid-day sun bath. Come home in the evening. Supper. Evening walk. Wind down.

We also had a weekly routine. Sunday we would go to the park to hang out with his friends, then come home and do laundry. Well, that last item in the routine was for me only. Sunday, being a relaxing day even with the laundry-doing, was also my "music listening" day when I would play my favorite CD's. There were only two CD's that caused Norm to want to get out of the house and into the safety of the backyard, which was the same reaction he had whenever the vacuum cleaner got turned on.

So what were the two CD's that Norm did not like?

The first might surprise you. "Chicago Transit Authority." The debut LP from Chicago, back when they were a brassy jazz rock group. Norm was OK with "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is" and "Questions 67 and 68." But deeper into the CD were a few very dissonant tracks (or discordant) (whichever you prefer), such as "Free Form Guitar" and "South California Purples" that Norm did not find pleasing.

What was the other CD? My "best of" for Yoko Ono. Norm would head for the door within seconds of Yoko being put into the CD player. He was not a fan. No. Please note that this is not one of the posts for the "what an intelligent dog Norm was" file.

Norm Stories From Everyday Life: Wrestling

Playtime for Norm with one of his (many) girlfriends.

As Norm got older -- and this was really clear by the time he was on senior food -- Norm rarely played with male dogs. When he was younger, he loved to wrestle intensely with other males. One of his best friends when he was younger was a 130-pound Anatolian Shepherd named Trigger. Trigger lived a few blocks away and was always extremely happy to see Norm. I think it's because Norm was one of the few dogs who loved playing with a dog as big as Trigger. He outweighed Norm 2:1, but when they wrestled, it was a fair fight! Both were completely exhausted and it was struggle to get Norm home after one of their wrestling sessions. He left it all in Trigger's front yard! He had nothing left in him.

Sadly, Trigger being older, got very stiff in the joints and could no longer wrestle. A year or two after that, Trigger passed away. And then, soon after that, Norm, getting older, focused his wrestling on his girlfriends. Younger girlfriends. Much younger girlfriends. Stella, for example, who also was a pit mix and who was many years younger than Norm.

Norm continued with his wrestling ways right up to the end. In the last few months, he could only do one wrestling move or two before he was worn out. But he still loved wrestling. Especially with the ladies.

Norm Stories From Everyday Life: Timekeeping

Back to the Norm stories.

I was thinking about all the other stories about life with Norm that are worth mentioning. I then realized that some of the most interesting things about Norm involved everyday life. This is an example of something that always made me wonder exactly how much of my everyday conversation he understood. If I got home in the evening before suppertime, and it was not quite suppertime. Or if I was sitting around at home and Norm thought it was time for the evening walk and I thought we should wait a bit for the Las Vegas heat to cool down. Norm would come over to where I was sitting, tail wagging, a big ol' smile and an enthusiastic look. He never would bark when he did this. Sometimes it would be close enough to the scheduled time that I would feed him or harness him up for his walk a little ahead of schedule.

But, sometimes, often, I said "It's too early. 15 minutes." Usually I would flash 10 fingers and another five. To signify "15." Think Norm didn't understand the concept of 15 minutes? Norm then would immediately walk away, tail no longer wagging. Many times -- way too many times to be a coincidence -- in fact, you could even say this happened "usually" -- he would come back, smiling, tail wagging after about 12 or 13 minutes later. Never sooner than that. Never. (Well, maybe there were a couple of times in 13 years he came back after five minutes, but only a couple.) I will concede that his timekeeping was not perfect. I will grant you that. He was off by a minute or three. But considering that he didn't wear a watch or carry a cellphone, I would call his timekeeping was impressive.

Yet another example of what I've said many times before. Norm was scary smart.

The Shrine to Norm

Hopefully this isn't too weird or maudlin for the people who aren't dog-obsessed, but ...

I got Norm's cremains back today. Norm is the first of my animals whose remains I've got, but, given Norm's personality, he deserves to be a category of his own. So, up on the mantle, I've made a little shrine to the Best Dog Ever(TM). From left to right: (1) Norm's collar; (2) the vial of Norm's fur, which I didn't ask for since his bristles are burrowed so deeply into the carpet and upholstery I will be living with Norm fur for the rest of my days; (3) the wooden box that is Norm's final resting place, along with (4) the metal hanging ornament that my neighbor Teresa made in his memory which is in the shape of Norm -- it even has a green collar like the one Norm wore (see #1); (5) the purple flower that the vet's office sent back with the cremains; (6) a card that my friend Stan many years ago that has a great picture of a younger Norm on it; and (7) Norm's favorite nylabone which is the one toy I did not toss.

If it seems like I'm being obsessive, it's because I am.

More Norm pictures and stories coming up.

Norm Stories: The Exciting Conclusion To "Norm The Landscape Architect"

And, now, for the exciting conclusion of our episode of Life With Norm: Norm The Landscape Architect.

So what happens when one of Norm's rawhide chip burial spots is discovered right after Norm has completed his burying and his meticulous landscape work to hide the hiding place? This happened during the year that Daniil the German Student was living here. Norm had been given a rawhide chip that, according to his specifications, then required an immediate burial. He raced out the door into the backyard, ran to the side of the house, and buried it there, under one of the side windows. Unbeknownst to Norm, the window was the window for Daniil's bedroom. And Daniil was in his bedroom. Watching Norm during his burying and landscape work.

When Norm finished smoothing out the rocks so the burial spot would avoid the detection of anyone except those with a hound dog nose, Norm looked up. And with a look of shock and horror, he saw Daniil standing at the window. Looking back at him.

Daniil came out of his room to tell me what just had happened. Norm had come back into the house and I closed the door behind him. But then Norm started pacing around the family room, very nervously. After a few seconds -- which in Norm years probably felt like a 1000 years -- I opened up the back door and Norm ran out, around to the side of the house. I don't know for certain what happened, but Daniil and I could the sound of rocks moving around. I told Daniil: "You are not going outside to see where Norm is re-burying his rawhide." Daniil, no fool, absolutely agreed: "No. Of course not."

I caught a quick glimpse of Norm being active in the back corner of the backyard, but it was a quick glimpse. After hearing Norm root around in the rocks at the back wall, he came back inside. His snout was filthy. But he was relaxed and happy.

Mission accomplished.

Norm Stories: Norm The Landscape Architect

This is the story of a landscape architect. Named Norm. Norm The Dog.

In his younger days, Norm loved those rawhide chips. But he only liked the ones that were thin and crispy. When I would give him one of the noticeably thick ones, he wouldn't chew on it. He would carry it out into the backyard and bury it. Many times, months, even years later, he would dig up one of these extra-thick rawhide chips that had sufficiently fermented under the ground, bring the dirty stinking chip in the house and then, after it had been properly aged, chew on it for awhile.

Norm was meticulous about how he buried his rawhide chips. He did not simply dig up the rocks in the backyard, plop the rawhide in a hole he dig and re-bury it. No. Not Norm. After he re-buried it, he would use his snout to smooth out the rocks completely so that you absolutely could not tell where it was that he buried it. It was as if the rocks had not been disturbed at all. There was no sign that anything was buried underneath. No lump, no careless scattering of rocks. Absolutely perfectly meticulous levelling of the rocks that were concealing his buried treasure.

He even did this with rawhide chips he buried in the cactus garden to the side of the patio. I do not know how he could dig holes next to spiny, needly cacti -- and then smooth the rocks out afterward -- and not get a snoot full of cactus needles. But he did.

So what happened when he was once caught burying a rawhide chip in the backyard? That's the cliffhanger ending for a story that will be continued tomorrow.

Norm Stories: The One Food That Norm Would Not Eat

Norm loved food.

Norm was not a dog who you would call a "picky" eater. He always found something to eat on the streets on our morning and evening walks. (Hipsters love "street food," which I guess makes Norm an original hipster.) Especially during the darker months of the year, when the morning and the evening walks could be in the dark, Norm would be sniffing in the bushes and, all of the sudden, I hear him crunching on something. Chicken bones, especially chicken wing bones, were always welcome (although less prevalent after the KFC on Windmill closed). He found hundreds of chicken wing bones on the sidewalks and road gutters over the years. It's like there were people driving along, eating chicken as they drove, tossing the bones out the windows as they toddled down the road.

Norm would find week-old burritos in the gutter on the roadside. Or week-old French fries. Even greasy Taco Bell wrappers could be within his grasp. He once swallowed a large chunk of deli ham that was in a plastic bag on one walk, swallowing it quickly so I couldn't pull it out of his mouth. (He threw up the plastic bag a couple of days later with the ham still inside. To Norm's credit, he didn't try to eat that ham a second time.)

Up until his last week or so, Norm had only once previously not finished his breakfast before supper time. And there were probably only a few times before that that breakfast was not gobbled immediately. Supper was always devoured immediately.

Norm absolutely loved all food. Except one thing. There was one food item I gave Norm to eat that he absolutely refused to eat it. Brie cheese.

And Norm loved cheese. He even loved moldy cheese. When I had cheese in refrigerator and got that white dusty mold on it, I would cut that section off and feed it to Norm. Yum. Yum. So brie, being a moldy cheese, should have right in his culinary wheelhouse. If you thought that, you would've been wrong.

I once bought a small segment of Brie that was on sale cheap at the grocery store. Norm, as he would do, begged for some of it. So I cut off a bit and gave it to him to eat. I paid no attention, but a minute or so later, I saw the piece of Brie on the family room floor, a few feet from Norm. So I picked it up and gave it to him.

It would not be accurate to say he spit it out. That's not quite what happened. He had his snout up a bit. It looked like the brie, once it was touching his "lips" -- the outer skin around his mouth -- I know dogs do not "technically" have lips -- but once the brie was touching Norm's lip-equivalents, it's as if the brie cheese itself jumped off Norm's lips, leaping several feet away. All with no apparent effort from Norm to propel the unwanted cheese away from his mouth.

So, yes, there was one food that Norm would not eat.

Norm Stories: Norm's One Escape Attempt From His Own Backyard

In his younger years, Norm used to love to lay out in the rocks in the backyard for his afternoon sunbath. As he got older, he shifted to the flat concrete of the patio.

And speaking of Norm in the backyard, today's story is the story of the one time that Norm escaped from his own backyard. You would think given Norm's history, he would have had far more escape attempts here. He was constantly getting out of the backyard (by shimmying up the gate and jumping down) in the four months he was with his prior owner. And he was constantly jumping fences at Camp Bow Wow and, after he was kicked out of there, he would climb chain link fences at other boarding/doggie daycare facilities. Except for the part of A-VIP where they had nine-foot tall chain link fences in one enclosure. Nine feet was high enough that he didn't even attempt a climb when exiled to that section for the motivated and committed escapers.

How he managed his escape from his own backyard was ingenious. It was a Sunday morning. Spring time. Warm but pleasant. I was comfortable leaving the back door from the house open into the backyard since it was cool enough that the a/c was not running continually. Norm was quiet so the fact that I heard nothing meant nothing. Or so I thought. After he was out there for 20 minutes or so, I went out to check on him. No Norm. But the side gate was open. I was going to get some shoes on to go searching for him when the front door bell rang. A neighbor found him a few blocks away, on the other side of the busy street behind my house. She was able to lure him into their car by doing something Norm always found irresistible. She showed him an open car door. In he jumped -- she confirmed it was him by his name on the collar -- and off they went to bring him home.

So how did he escape? Apparently, the last time the bug man was here, he did not close the side gate fully. The gate is old so it can appear to be latched, but the latch is not fully closed. Norm stuck his snout between the vertical rails (or slats, not sure what to call them) on the gate, angled his snout, and pulled backwards. You cannot open this gate by pushing forward. You have to pull backwards. Which Norm did.

How do I know this when I didn't even see him escape? Later that day, he was back at the side gate and I caught him sticking his snout between the rails, angling his snout 45 degrees, and backing up with his snout still between the rails. Only this time I had made sure that the latch on the gate was fully closed and fully locked.

First escape attempt: successful.

Second escape attempt (same day): foiled.

Norm Stories: All Those Times People Would Stop Their Cars Just to Meet Norm

Here's another thing that I thought was unique about Norm. On our walks, people who I never met before would stop us and ask me, "Is that Norm?"

Maybe this happens with other dogs, but I've never seen it happen with anyone but Norm. People would come up to me on our walks -- long walks -- and tell me they had heard about Norm from a neighbor or a friend and when they saw this white dog walking his long walks, they just had to stop and meet Norm for themselves. This even happened on more than one occasion with people driving past us. They would turn their cars around and stop just to ask if it was Norm and, once confirmed, fuss on him while he, in turn, fussed back on them. Sometimes people would stop their cars not because they knew it was Norm, but because they would always see this happy white dog walking all over the area, in places a mile or so from the last place they would have seen Norm, and they just wanted to meet this happy, well-exercised dog.

Norm, of course, was always happy to meet people under either of those sort of circumstances. Actually, I don't need that last part. He was always happy to meet people and the people he met were almost always happy to meet him. (There would be the occasional non-dog person that Norm would try to convert to being a dog person. He was occasionally successful.)

And this doesn't even count the dozens of times that people who were also walking stopped to introduce themselves to Norm. Not to me. Norm. I was just his personal assistant.

Norm Stories: Who's the White Pit Bull Mix Who's the Sex Machine to All the Chicks?

Who's the white pit bull mix

Who's the sex machine to all the chicks

Norm!

Right on.

As Norm got older, he lost interest in playing with the boy dogs. And, once getting senior status, he really didn't want much to do with male dogs his size or bigger. But the ladies? Norm never lost his interest in fooling around with the lady-dogs.

Here he is with one of his many girlfriends. This is Stella, who was his best girl during the early COVID years of 2020 and 2021.

This is the reference at the top of the post, for those too young to remember.

They say Norm is a bad mutha -- shut your mouth -- I'm talking about Norm.