Best Girl, Norah

19 min read by Dmitri.
Published on September 16, 2025.

Comments

Save

February 2021.

I can still smell a little bit of Norah on a piece of cloth we wrapped her in when she was cold. It feels like sunny, dusty sweat that collected on her paws after a summer walk.

Norah was a miniature wirehaired dachshund. She was born in Russia (like me) and grew up near Toronto as part of my mom’s small dog breeding business. I remember her early days vaguely from several visits, as I either lived on the university campus or in another part of town.

Norah produced two litters and commanded respect from other dachshunds in the house. Eventually, my mom’s kennel grew, and they all moved further from the city. More dogs joined.

Meanwhile, Betty and I travelled across Asia, then lived and worked in Thailand. We returned to Canada (Vancouver) around 2018, which eventually presented us with an opportunity to rehouse Norah. She was nine, healthy, and ready for a break from the power struggle amongst other dogs. Our Vancouver apartment was Norah’s retirement palace, and she was to become its princess. Chapters: Rice and snacks. Parks and hikes. Norah & Noodle. Sunbaths and belly rubs. Changes. Goodbye forever, Norah. Support this blog & get premium features with GOLD memberships!

This essay is a goodbye to our little dog. Please sign in to read it. It’s free.

February 2021. Norah is cleaning up the pot with fresh rice.

The dates are when the film was developed. Actual photos were taken up to three months prior.

Rice and snacks.

Norah had all that she needed at my mom’s farm, but she was one of many. While visiting, dogs of all ages would greet me and Betty and try to spend as much time with us as they could (unless they were shy). Human attention was a premium for the canine that wanted it.

Norah has been an independent dog. She enjoyed our company but felt comfortable on her own — unlike our second dog, Noodle, who would howl if we were to leave him home alone.

Though she didn’t crave human contact as much as some other dogs, Norah may’ve discovered something new about herself that brought her closer to us: she loved food.

December 2019. Norah is about to hop over the armrest onto the ground as she hears her name. She knew she was getting food. Norah learned the cues to dinner quickly and efficiently; she knew what chicken cooked without spices smells like, and she knew what the sound of a pressure cooker means as it released warm steam and filled the room. At other times, she’d remind us that it was time to eat in the afternoon and during dinner time.

It’s hard to tell whether a dog loves the food, if it’s just hungry, or if it’s simply indiscriminant. After all, some dogs will eat poop; they certainly think about nourishment differently than most humans. Norah never ate poop.

After years of meals at our place, she discovered her love for well-prepared, fresh food. Betty and I quickly learned that dogs shouldn’t eat seasoned, fatty, or many kinds of human foods. So we made bland rice, meat, and vegetable stews for Norah that were oh so much better than dry, processed kibbles.

July 2020.

We still fed Norah her kibbles because we wanted her to get all her vitamins and nutrients the packs claimed to offer. She was a healthy dog, but her teeth were in bad shape (which often happens to dachshunds), so we soaked her kibbles in warm water before mixing in her special food for enjoyment.

One day, Betty made Norah a special dumpling when we were cooking ours, which was just the dough (since dogs can’t have onions with their meat). Norah loved it, of course.

July 2020.

My parents have almost always had dogs, yet I’ve never fed them. Norah’s diet was a learning process for Betty, whose parents hadn’t had dogs, and me. We tried to measure her portions to give her enough, but not so that she’d gain too much weight; we knew Norah was getting old and wanted her to have a long, healthy life. I feel like we succeeded; Norah had great stamina for her age and size.

October 2021.

Parks and hikes.

Vancouver and its surrounding area are full of hiking trails and parks. We took Norah with us often. She felt more energized and sharper after spending hours picking the best path along rocky terrain and discovering new smells.

April 2023.

We were cautious with Norah in the city, afraid she’d sprint after a squirrel across a busy street. But with time, we’ve learned that Norah could be trusted without a leash, even more so once she got older. She relied on us to take her to the right place, even though she could never know precisely where she was going. She just came along.

October 2019.

June 2025.

July 2020.

October 2019.

June 2020. Ready for the elements.

January 2023.

May 2022.

Norah loved our walks (unless it was cold or raining). She often asked to come when we were about to step out of the house, even more often in her last year, as she saw us leave with Noodle on hikes that would be too hard for her.

I learned to carry Norah often. She was a small dog, but even so, every minute of flexing to hold a dog up was a little tougher than the last. She needed to be outside, and we wanted her with us; it was easily worth the effort.

March 2023.

Norah & Noodle.

Noodle, a skyeterrier puppy, arrived at our place in 2022. This meant another life change for Norah.

We thought that Norah would enjoy a puppy’s company, a kin canine. Unfortunately, Noodle’s arrival has upset her greatly. Norah resented Noodle for a long time, which eventually ended in regretful acceptance with a little fear (Noodle grew to be several times larger than Norah).

June 2022.

Noodle liked Norah. He even learned some behaviours from her. Whenever they were apart, rejoining would excite Noodle tremendously as he would lick her while she turned away. But in the third year, Norah’s avoidance of Noodle was clearly due to his size, awkwardness, and her frailness — not disdain. A few times, she licked him lightly, which meant a lot to Betty and me.

September 2024.

Hikes seem to have brought the dogs together. At first, Norah begrudgingly yielded her walking lead position to Noodle; he was getting bigger than her, though he didn’t seem as attentive to smells or nearly as aware of the wildlife as she was, even as she got older.

Outside, they trotted and galloped together. Noodle jealously guarded Norah from other dogs (which wasn’t great, as that made socializing harder). Norah kept up with him until she got older; then, Noodle and her humans slowed to match her pace.

April 2023.

Despite being older, slower, and shorter, Norah could still spot critters better than Noodle.

April 2025.

We wondered whether getting another dog was a good idea. Noodle disturbed Norah’s prime spot; seeing her being upset as a result bothered us, and we wondered if they’d ever get fully used to each other. But like many other aspects of our dogs’ behaviour, their attitude changed, and so did ours. This experience taught us a lot about our animals’ relationships and our place in their company.

I’m a photographer in this story, which is why you won’t see many images of me and Norah together. Yet when Noodle arrived, the dogs chose their favourites: Noodle immediately felt smitten for Betty and all the attention she gave him; Norah strengthened her preference towards me (perhaps due to previous familiarity or who knows what). Neither Betty nor I wanted to have favourites, but that may have just been our culture portraying animal bonds in a negative light. Our dogs wanted to live in a pack with their one and only.

May 2023.

November 2022. Sometime after this photo was taken, we stopped holding the dogs on our laps and kept them in the back seat during the rides. I thought of this image when we drove Norah to her vet for the last time. Betty held her on her lap again and let her sniff the air; we passed by this same school. Noodle rode in the back.

March 2023.

Sunbaths and belly rubs.

Norah loved sunbathing and belly rubs. She loved summer and sunny days, when she skilfully chose the most comfortable spot to enjoy her life to the fullest. We loved seeing her like that and quickly gave up our softest furniture for her and our pleasure. As my life and Betty’s got progressively busier, seeing Norah living it up on our behalf soothed us.

February 2020.

June 2022.

February 2021.

Summer 2020.

December 2020.

November 2021.

October 2020.

August 2020.

August 2022.

December 2023.

Changes.

Soon after Norah came to our house, the COVID-19 pandemic struck. Our lives changed significantly. I began working from home permanently, spending a lot of time with her, and later, Noodle. Without the dogs, I would probably be stuck at home, less healthy, less happy. She helped Betty and me through the difficult parts of our lives — but it’s hard to notice such an impact from such a small, silly animal in the moment.

March 2020.

We helped Norah through her life changes, too. She was not spayed, thus every six months she’d drop tiny specs of blood everywhere; she had to wear a diaper, which, of course, she hated a lot.

December 2020.

Betty groomed Norah, which she also disliked.

January 2020.

Dogs don’t show appreciation for delayed benefits. To be fair, we humans also have difficulties with that. Norah communicated what she wanted or needed in the moment very well, but we could never have a conversation. How did she feel about leaving her old home? Norah did not seem to recognize my dad or my brother (whose house she had lived in prior) when they came over some years later, but both Betty and I felt that she missed her old life. Months after arriving, she kept checking cars that looked like my mom’s and walked towards older couples to see who they were. Till the end, despite not remembering the smell of her handlers, Norah occasionally made it look as if something was missing in her life, but she couldn’t express what it was.

March 2021.

Goodbye forever, Norah.

Dogs aren’t known to grieve; it takes a bigger brain to do that. But that doesn’t mean that the fact glosses over them. Though Noodle hasn’t shown sorrow in the way we could understand, he pulled us to see a small brown dog a few days after we lost Norah, and now the hikes don’t feel the same — he’s slower and less excited about visiting the old spots.

Septemember 2025.

It was very hard to watch Norah’s breaths shorten and have the cough get stronger. The last few days, she sounded like she was sprinting on half a lung. She was fourteen; an intervention would cost thousands, bring her and us untold distress and inevitably result in the same fate. I wondered if she would die in her sleep, on our bed. Through her shortened breath at night, she reached up to my face to lightly lick my nose.

September 2025.

A day later, a vet at an emergency clinic grabbed Norah out of my hands as I fumbled with my words, puffy from the teary ride to the hospital. She ran with my dog to the back. Soon after, we were given options. They told us we chose wisely.

The oxygen eased Norah’s breath slightly, but her enlarged heart would not get better. The nurse rolled her into a small room without windows, and the vet prepared the syringes.

September 2025.

We watched her body calm as the vet injected a strong painkiller. In that moment, I felt relief on her behalf. Norah’s body fought tooth and nail for the last week, but that drained her body. She loved the special food we made her until she couldn’t swallow, and she expressed her desire to go for a walk even when she felt weak.

At last, she could rest.

September 2025.

The final injection stopped her heart. I could see the change in her eyes. A part of me felt convinced that I would see her again, but I know that it’s not true.

Goodbye forever, Norah.

May 2021.

September 2022.

Sign in to continue reading (free).

Your free Analog.Cafe account gives you access to web apps, downloads, exclusive content, and more!

Continue with Google

By creating and using an account you agree to Terms, Use, and Privacy Policies.
Sign In Help

About this article:

Dmitri