Norman's Neighborhood

Three

High-pitched squeals of laughter carried on the slight breeze. Norman's ears swiveled; he was familiar with some of those voices. He looked across the vacant lot, toward a house with a swing set in the yard. Several children were chasing one another, shrieking excitedly. It looked like a fun game! He took off at a gallop to join them, forgetting - for a time - the reason he'd escaped the yard.

"Norman's here!" shouted a young boy as the large dog bounded up. Todd and his sister Daisy lived at the house, and Norman had played with them before. They introduced him to their playmates.
"He lives over there," explained Daisy, pointing across to Norman's yard. She ruffled the dog's ears, and he leaned against her. "Ooh- don't push me over, silly!" she giggled, stumbling a little. Norman licked her arm apologetically.

"Arr-rurr-rurr-rurr-RURFF! Grrrr..." A reddish-brown cannonball hurled itself at Norman, barking and growling alternately. The children backed away, directed by Daisy, who herded them up onto the deck. The small, feisty dog darted at Norman, baring his teeth in challenge as he continued berating the gentle giant. Confused at the sudden, unprovoked attack by the hot-tempered stranger, Norman tried a questioning "Urff?" accompanied by a small wave of his tail. The assailant was having none of it - determined to win the battle he had begun, he flung himself again at the object of his rage. "Grrr...Arr-RURFF! Grrrr..." He tried a variation of his earlier vituperation, to no avail.

Norman was inherently suspicious of the unknown; his canine family was known for its guardianship and fierce loyalty to familiar and trusted people and their property. His breed had the potential to be aggressive, but he as an individual was more reserved. Had the vitriolic blitzkrieg been directed at anyone other than himself, Norman would have certainly responded pugnaciously; since it was being aimed only at himself, he decided to ignore it and saunter away from the demented dachshund.

As he made his departure, Norman's ears caught the faint squeak of the door opening. He couldn't see Kathy Benson from his present location, but he recognized her voice as she questioned the children. He stopped and half-turned toward the front of the house.
"What's happening out here? Where did that dog come from?"
"Norman was - Where did he go?" Daisy, the self-appointed spokeschild, suddenly noticed the lack of Norman's presence. The dachshund was sniffing the grass intently, growling occasionally.

Just then, from his position at the side of the house, Norman saw a man approaching hurriedly. Short and pudgy, his face pink with exertion, the man was calling out,
"Hansel! Haann-sell - " "Come here!" he commanded, as he caught sight of his errant hound. The small dog barked belligerently at his owner, who was crossing the lawn with a coiled blue leash in his left hand. The man grabbed for Hansel's collar, lunging forward and causing his neat tan trilby hat to fall to the ground. His nearly bald head, fringed sparsely with graying strawberry blond hair, visibly changed hue from a moderate pink to a brighter cerise as he propelled himself after the elusive animal.

Hansel, once again slipping from the grasp of his frustrated human, whipped around and spied Norman standing near the back of the house. He raced toward his target. As the mahogany blur of furious energy approached, Norman decided he'd had enough. Facing the dachshund, he planted his feet firmly and let out one loud "WURRFF!!" His erstwhile assailant yipped and rolled over submissively, eyes rolling back in his head. Norman turned his back and loped off.