Norman's Neighborhood

Sixteen

Dena couldn't sleep. She moved restlessly, trying not to disturb Mike. She wasn't sure whether he was asleep or not; maybe his mind was also busy, and he was lying still so he didn't disturb her. She slowly twisted her head to look at the clock glowing on the tablet across the room: 1:33.

Their power had been restored by the time they returned from dinner with her parents. It felt odd, coming into the house and not being greeted by their friendly gray dog. Norman's clean food dish sat on the drain board, where Logan had put it after rinsing it the night before; the nearly empty water dish was still on the floor. Dena had picked it up, rinsed it, and automatically refilled it. She had stopped herself from setting it back on the floor, and instead poured the water into the African Violet plant in the windowsill.

"Thinking about Norman?" Mike asked quietly. He wasn't asleep, after all.
"Can't help it!" Dena admitted. "Here we are losing sleep over him, and he's probably zonked out, wherever he is - sound asleep!"

**********

David lay on his back, hands laced behind his head, staring into the darkness. He had stayed in the basketball game for a while, trying to keep his mind off the knowledge that Norman was missing. Some people wouldn't understand - Norman was just a dog, after all, but David felt that the dog had contributed to his recovery from serious illness. He drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and turned on his side. Eventually, he fell asleep and dreamed that he was chasing Norman across a bizarre, Dr.-Seuss-like landscape.

**********

Zane couldn't persuade the dog to go upstairs with him.
"Come with me!" he invited, patting his leg as he headed for the staircase. The dog, with an apologetic look from under his heavy brow, stood where he was. Zane gave up with a small shrug, and resumed his trek.

Norman looked down the hall, in the direction Yaya had gone. He slowly padded past a small bathroom and over to the half-open bedroom door. Poking his head around the doorframe, he determined - by the sound of her soft snoring - that the old lady was fast asleep in the bed. He settled on the floor and was soon dreaming... He trotted across an unfamiliar landscape full of odd formations, ears flapping in the warm breeze. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, and saw David in pursuit.

**********

"Wilford, what have you done with this dog while I was gone? Hansel - stop that! Right now!" Rosalinda Matapang Smythe-Bonynge, a tiny Filipina, stood with hands on hips, looking sternly at her husband and then at their dog. Hansel had been chewing up a bit of cardboard he'd pulled out of the trash, but stopped at the small woman's firm tone.

Rosalinda, who had just returned from a two-week visit to her family in the Philippines, noticed immediately the lapse in behavior of their dachshund. When she was home, she insisted on the dog's obedience, and had noticed the lack of it. She suspected that the root of the problem was Wilford's inattentiveness during her absence.

Rosalinda had married Wilford in order to obtain financial security, and that she had done. She had even developed affection for the cocky little man, coming to realize that he put on a front to cover a lack of self-esteem. Wilford had married Rosalinda because he wanted a submissive wife - and that, he had not obtained.