Norbert was practically a stuffed animal come to life. The three-pound mixed-breed internet-famous therapy dog dispensed joy simply by existing.
Julie Steines started posting photos of Norbert on Instagram more than a decade ago: of him volunteering at children’s hospitals, nursing homes and schools; of him dressed as a wizard or a reindeer, wearing a beanie or a tie. His tiny pink tongue hung out of his mouth much of the time.
Soon you could buy plush toys in his likeness, with profits going to charity. His mission as a therapy dog, according to his website, was simple: “to spread smiles, inspire kindness and bring comfort to those in need.”
It turns out that I, along with many of his nearly one million followers on Instagram alone, was among those in need. Any time I felt blue, I’d seek out his page for an infusion of happiness. And when I saw him pop up in my feed at random, a wave of endorphins flooded my brain.
When Norbert died last week, just shy of 16 years old, tens of thousands of comments and tributes poured in. “My family is heartbroken,” Steines wrote as part of a lengthy announcement.
Pet content remains one of the last bastions of joy on social media. Norbert and many other beloved online dogs — all blissfully unaware of their internet fame, or the internet at all — cut through a digital landscape growing less hospitable by the day. As petty fights and bizarre bots increasingly overwhelm online spaces, I find myself following more dogs and fewer people.
Instagram turns 15 years old this year, as will my oldest pup at home. When introduced, the platform, with its focus on photos and videos, elevated pet content to greater heights than any service that came before. It didn’t take long for Instagram to become populated with accounts dedicated to dogs — personal pages where the dogs were not the sidekicks but the stars, their humans the accessories. These accounts would often be verified, like those of celebrities and politicians.
There’s something distinct and humbling about forming a parasocial relationship with, and experiencing heartbreak from, an animal you’ve never met. Now that many of us have been on social media for a decade or more, it’s becoming impossible to not brace for the inevitable. And when these animals “cross the rainbow bridge,” as it’s said, I’ve scrambled to place my sadness as the families behind the pets come into focus, as does their grief, usually in a heart-wrenching caption.
When Henry the Colorado Dog died suddenly in 2022, leaving his best friend, a cat named Baloo, grief-stricken, I was inconsolable. Their page, with 2.3 million followers, had been a celebration of cinematic adventures: Henry and Baloo cuddling in a tent in the Rocky Mountains or floating in a boat on a river at sunset. With Henry gone, Baloo stopped eating and was floundering. Then I watched a triumphant story arc unfold as his family found Pan, a new canine companion who is as intrepid as Henry was and who’d go on to bond deeply with Baloo, softening the hurt but not replacing Henry, whose memory remains a strong presence on the page.
When Kabosu, the Shiba Inu who helped define the Doge meme, died last year at the age of 18, The New York Times published a proper obituary. When Bodhi, a Shiba Inu known online simply as the Menswear Dog and who modeled for Coach, died last year at age 15, he, too, was the subject of an article.
This inclination to honor such losses more officially can in part be attributed to the novelty of celebrity, but human’s best friend seems to have taken on greater personal and cultural significance in general in recent years. Most dog owners consider their pets family, and some are even seeking ways to foster richer interspecies communication. Policies that allow workers time off to care for a sick pet or to grieve the loss of one are also gaining steam.
As is sometimes the case with the pages of notable people who die, the accounts of pets often endure, but forever with an asterisk.
Though unlike these people — whom fans can honor by watching their movies, reading their books, listening to their music — the photos and videos taken of dogs are the “art” that they offered, and social media the stage on which they were admired.
At least for a while, I imagine the sight of Norbert’s pricked gray ears and black button nose will cause only sadness. But eventually, I will return ready to delight again in his soul-restoring magic, which, at least for me and those who never knew him in real life, is the gift he always provided.
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