Little things...

It's amazing how nothing major has changed in my life.

It's also amazing how many little things have changed.

I'm up VERY late. I generally work until midnight and then try to wind down from 12am to 2am. I try to go to bed around 2, but often I'm up until 3am or later.

All of this was time I used to spend with Norman. Beth and the kids were long asleep. Sure the cats stopped by occasionally, but Norman was my constant companion. He'd be on the floor or on his old recliner chai (the one he commandeered when Beth wouldn't let him on the new couch). I'd pet him some, but mostly it was just his presence.

Now his hair-covered blanket is off the chair. It makes it available for human seatage -- but I'm not that big a fan of humans, and in any case there are none around at those hours. So I'm just alone at my desk. Or alone on the couch. And it's just strange. And very lonely.

Erin and I walked into Larchmont yesterday. (Saw Matt Dillon, by the way.) It was weird not having Norman on the leash, our walking smile-magnet. And every dog we did see on someone else's leash kinda broke our hearts.

Beth said she's been hearing him at the back door, crying to get in. So I open the door occassionally.

We see Bassetts on tv ALL the time. Two just on the "er" episode I recorded the other night. (One on a commercial and one in the actual show.)

We can now leave chalah out on the kitchen table. Cause he's not there to swipe it.

And I can leave the front door open when I bring the groceries in from Beth's car, because he's not there to bolt out into the middle of the street.

And when the doorbell rings, he doesn't bark and howl like a lunatic.

But mostly, he's not waiting in the living room window when we get home anymore.

No. Mostly, he's just not there on his chair at night.

It's the little things. Not the big things. There are no big things, frankly. Our lives haven't changed. (Less pooper-scooping, I suppose, but I'd be lying if I said we missed that.) School, work, etc. Life goes on, of course.

Nothing has changed.

But nothing is quite the same either.

I really miss my dog.

Air Commander Bentley Norman

Our Basset Hound, Norman, died today. Beth and I were with him as he was put to sleep.

He had lymphoma, which came on quickly and was only discovered while he was recuperating (or rather failing to recuperate) from his last ear surgery. He was completely deaf and nearly blind. He couldn't eat, couldn't drink, couldn't walk or even stand. I carried him out to the yard -- which only a few weeks ago would have been impossible, but he's lost so much weight that it was depressingly easy -- but he couldn't even go to the bathroom. His stomach was hard as a rock. He was having a lot of trouble breathing. He had stopped barking and howling completely. He could barely wag his tail.

So it was time. But it was very hard.

He was truly a joy of a dog. And dashingly handsome. I'm really going to miss him.