I can still detect a faint trace of Norah on a piece of fabric we used to wrap her in when she felt cold. It reminds me of the warm, dusty sweat that gathered on her paws after a summer stroll. Norah was a miniature wirehaired dachshund. Like me, she was born in Russia and later grew up near Toronto as part of my mom's small dog breeding operation. My memories of her early days are hazy from my occasional visits, as I typically lived on the university campus or in a different part of town. Norah had two litters and earned the respect of the other dachshunds in the household. Eventually, my mom's kennel expanded, and they relocated further from the city, adding more dogs to the mix. Meanwhile, Betty and I journeyed across Asia and then lived and worked in Thailand. We returned to Canada (Vancouver) around 2018, which led to the chance to rehome Norah. At that time, she was nine, healthy, and in need of a respite from the competition of the other dogs. Our Vancouver apartment became Norah's retirement haven, and she was to be pampered as its princess. Chapters: Rice and snacks. Parks and hikes. Norah & Noodle. Sunbaths and belly rubs. Changes. Farewell forever, Norah. Support this blog & access premium features with GOLD memberships! This essay serves as a farewell to our beloved dog. Please log in to read it; it's complimentary. February 2021. Norah is finishing up the pot of fresh rice. The dates refer to when the film was processed, while the actual photos were taken up to three months prior.
This essay serves as a farewell to our small dog, a miniature wirehaired dachshund, who brought us an abundance of joy and love that we could never fully comprehend, until she was no longer with us.