Norman's Neighborhood

Two

The savory, juicy sausage disappeared quickly. Norman blinked, cocked his head, and softly asked, "Rrrff?" He was a rather large dog, but usually not noisy. Marguerite smiled and responded, "You'd like another? Here you go! I don't think he's had breakfast." The last comment was addressed to her husband.

Norman was too busy disposing of the sausage to notice the smiles exchanged by the couple. He gulped down the last bit of flavorful meat and squinted his eyes almost shut as he diligently licked remnants from his whiskers. His undocked tail slowly thumped the concrete patio twice, in appreciation of the offering. Still licking his chops, he stood up and trotted a few feet toward the hedge. He stopped, turned, and looked back at the people. He waved his tail slowly a few times, then continued on his way.

The gap in the hedge seemed even tighter on the return trip - about two sausage-widths tighter. Norman found himself stuck in the middle of the hedge with twigs poking him through his thick, wavy, pepper-and-salt fur. Realizing that he was hung up on something, he twisted his body from side to side while shuffling backward a bit. There! He freed himself and returned to his own yard. As he bounded forward, a wide red leather collar dropped to the ground in front of the hedge.

Norman paused in the middle of the yard, listening. His slightly floppy ears perked up and swiveled from side to side. There was no sound from the house; it seemed to have been deserted. Hoping to find otherwise, Norman plodded up the steps and nosed the screen door. Unfortunately, when he had nudged it open and slipped outside, the door had swung back with just enough force to wedge itself closed in its frame. Norman's paws were not able to tease it open, though he took a few half-hearted swipes.

The sausages had made Norman thirsty. He padded back down to the bottom of the steps, where a large red plastic bowl full of water was always kept for him. He lapped at it enthusiastically, splattering droplets onto his face and his surroundings. Finally he shook his head energetically, snuffling and flinging more tiny, glistening beads to join the ones that were slowly spreading before being absorbed into the hairline cracks in the gritty concrete walk.

Since no one was available to let him into the house; his immediate needs had been satisfied; and the warm morning sun was making him feel dozy, Norman decided to settle down for a snooze. He sagged slowly down like a punctured balloon, letting out a soft sigh as he shoved his square muzzle between his front paws.

As his nose touched the ground, Norman caught a familiar scent - or rather, a collection of familiar scents. He was no bloodhound; nonetheless his olfactory capabilities were quite high. He sniffed carefully at the path, inching his upper body forward to trace the evidence of his family having passed this way not long before. Keeping his nose as close to the path as he could as he awkwardly got to his feet, he moved eagerly along the scent trail. The gate blocked his way.

He knew his family had left the yard through that gate, and had latched it securely. He couldn't follow them. Norman stood irresolutely at the gate, until an image presented itself in his mind: the back boundary of the property was marked by a simple wire-and-stake fence separating it from the adjacent vacant field. In the right rear corner, the wire was a bit saggy...

With renewed purpose, Norman bounded back through the yard and headed straight to the saggy spot in the fence. The soil was soft there; he dug it up frequently to bury bones. He began digging vigorously, sending a fine shower of rich brown earth flying behind him. Quite a bit of it mingled with his coat, freckling its grey fur. Some of it went up his nose, crusting his nostrils and causing him to sneeze several times. It stuck in little clumps to the still damp strands of his scraggly beard. Soon there was a moist, dark pile of loam behind him and a trench in front of him.

Norman stuck his head under the fence, flattened himself, and wriggled forward until he was all the way through. He got to his feet again, wet pink tongue lolling as he panted from the exertion. Now what?