The alarm went off at 3:50 a.m. as it had every weekday for the last year. Each day I would slowly rise from my bed — still sleepy — and head for the kitchen. I would start the coffee maker and begin to prepare my lunch for school before heading off to the gym for my morning workout. And, like clockwork, she would appear. She would stealthily approach me from behind so that I didn't realize she was there. But as soon as I opened the bag of lunchmeats, or leftovers, or whatever I was to prepare for lunch, I was always immediately aware of her presence. She wasn't there to exactly help me prepare my lunch; she was there to share it, as she had every school day for the last year and every morning for the last 11 years. If you were preparing food, Nora was usually only a foot or two away. Nora was the family pet — a black Labrador retriever, who shared the Burns home for the past decade-plus. Share is probably the wrong word. Nora more or less owned the place. But this past Monday morning was different. Nora did not make her early morning appearance in the kitchen. She was gone. We had to have her put to sleep because a few days earlier she woke up to almost constant seizures and the vet told us it was time.

I clearly remember how Nora came to live with us. The kids were young and our daughter Katie had been asking for a dog for almost two years. We held her off by buying her a stuffed dog one Christmas and by getting her a toy dog that did back flips via battery power the next year. Katie remained persistent in her desire for a "real dog" and my wife and I decided maybe it was time. Throughout history, the Burnses have been known to be a "spontaneous" clan, and we agreed that we would do our research, take our time, and find the perfect breed of dog. We decided on a black lab. Labs are friendly, loyal, and great with kids.

We were all at an indoor soccer tournament one weekend when we overheard a lady in front of us lamenting how sad she was that she would have to get rid of her dog. She mentioned to her friend that the dog was just great with the kids and she had always loved black labs, but that it was just not going to work out. I mentioned to the lady that we were looking for a black lab and we soon made plans to visit her and meet the dog. A few days later I piled the four kids in the van and we were off to Middletown to meet the dog. We were under strict orders from my wife that "under no circumstances" were we to return home with the dog that day — that we were just going on a scouting mission and would discuss the situation later that night.

We followed the directions the lady had given us and soon found ourselves in a quiet, residential area in Middletown. Once inside the house, we met the woman and her two children, both of whom were devastated at the prospect of losing their pet. The woman had recently divorced and her two children were involved in many school and extra curricular activities. The busy schedules left little time to take care of a dog and the inevitable outcome was that they had to find her a new home. I couldn't help but feel that these two young kids held me in complete contempt for coming to take their dog. After a few awkward moments the woman went downstairs and emerged with a young, black lab that appeared to be a year or two old. The woman said, "This is Nora!" My first thought was, "Who the hell names their dog Nora?" but by that time Nora was eagerly licking the faces of the Burns children. I sensed we were in trouble. Mrs. Burns had clearly issued a stern edict not to return home with a dog, but I was about to get hit with the oldest lie known to man — kids asking, "Please dad, can we take her home?" followed up by, "We promise we'll take care of her, feed her, and clean up after her!" I'm positive no parent has ever believed those words, but they usually work. Nora was cute. I knew I didn't stand a chance. I would just throw myself at the mercy of my wife. "What was I supposed to do?" I would say. "The kids loved her!"

I was struck by a couple of very clear images as we prepared to leave with Nora. The woman's daughter, who was about 12 years old, could not stand to witness the event, and ran from the room crying. More awkwardness. I decided that it was best to expedite the event and I politely suggested that we take Nora and leave. The woman assured me that if Nora did not assimilate to the Burns household we could bring her back in a week or so. I promised the woman's son that we would visit with Nora from time to time, but I didn't believe my own words. We took a piece of rope and tied it to Nora's collar and headed for the door.

I was concerned about how Nora would react when we tried to leave. All of our research had indicated that black labs were extremely loyal. I anticipated that Nora might have to be literally dragged from the house. But I learned something about Nora that first day. Black labs may be loyal, but Nora walked out of that house with five-sixths of the Burns family like she had known us her whole life, never once looking back. The kids were so excited that we decided to stop and celebrate by buying a box of Entenmanns chocolate donuts — a Burns family favorite. I took the opportunity to remind the kids to be careful as chocolate could be deadly to dogs. It was rewarding to use the moment to teach the kids some responsibility.

I also decided that Nora needed a new collar and leash, and I stopped at a local pet shop. When I exited the store I noticed a commotion in the van. The kids were laughing hysterically. Seems that Nora wasn't listening when I gave the anti-chocolate speech and decided it would be in my best interests if she ate my two chocolate donuts. I knew right then that Nora was going to be a perfect fit for the Burns family. Mrs. Burns was not exactly happy that we had brought Nora home against her wishes, but Nora managed to work some of her magic on the Mrs. and the rest, as they say, is history.

Nora spent the next eleven years or so engaging in her three favorite activities — eating, sleeping, and going to the bathroom. There were some particularly memorable moments, like the time a neighbor gave us a gigantic chocolate Easter egg. The hollow egg was twice as large as a basketball and we promptly put in on the kitchen counter to keep it from Nora. For despite her desire to eat anything she could chew and swallow, chocolate was still dangerous for dogs. So we were naturally concerned when we came home later that night to find that Nora had consumed more than half the large chocolate egg. And despite spending the next three days listlessly lying around like she had suffered some sort of sugar shock, Nora bounced back and tried time and time again to prove that maybe chocolate isn't that bad for dogs after all.

People often take me to task for writing about topics that are not sports-related in my column. No problem. Nora was, after all, a black Labrador retriever — as close to an official sports mascot from the canine world as you can find. Who hasn't seen a picture of a black lab retrieving some duck from a freshwater pond for its hunter/owner? Okay, so Nora wasn't exactly the epitome of what a black lab should be. For starters, unlike most black labs, Nora hated water. Retrieving? Sorry. Nora was of the opinion that if you threw something, that perhaps you should be the one to go and get it. After all, Nora was busy taking naps, getting her rest, and preparing for the time when a family member, any member, would return home to find an animated, energetic, loyal family dog — provided of course she was rewarded with a dog biscuit, which we kept on top of the fridge.

Eleven years. Eleven years of unwavering loyalty and intrinsic rewards for the entire family. Thanks for the memories, Nora. Godspeed.

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