Norman, a very handsome fellow if, like me, you are at all partial to Blue Tick Hounds.  He was trouble, a party boy.  An escape artist.  He always had a slighty guilty look, either from what he had just gotten out of or of what he was just getting ready to get into.  He was living the good life with plenty of friends:  fluffball Ella, the sweetest snuggler! the lovely Maggie! Tucker! and terrific people.  (Terrific people who also have terrific friends: how does it get better than that?)  Ah the good life  in the lovely Roan Valley of Tennessee with   nearby fields and woods filled with cows, rabbits, chipmunks, SQUIRRELS!  all remarkably wonderful things to chase.  And he did, he did!  When he could get out that is.  And he was very clever about getting out.  Norman just could not resist a party! Norman was born to party! Norman was the party!

I'll miss you, Norman.