Starting with Simon: The old man did not do well when his brother died. He spent weeks looking for him, and clearly mourned his loss. I can't say that Simon and Maybelle were as close as Simon and Garfunkel were (they were littermates, after all), but having another dog here has made the loss of Maybelle less traumatic for him.
Then there's us: Larry is acclimating, and increasingly showing us his goofy side. He's begun to play, and if he still isn't the world's best walker, he at least appreciates the opportunity to get out of the house. The fact that he so clearly likes us, and is so happy to be here helps ease the pain of the loss. And when I needed to cry the other day, he sympathetically let me sob all over him and didn't protest. He's like Maybelle in that way. Maybe it's a hound thing.
Finally, there's the neighborhood: Everybody who sees Larry is excited. "What a sweet/beautiful/awesome dog!" "Yeah, he's pretty laid back. We suspect he was a serious stoner in a previous life." "Hahahahaha! Yeah, I can see that! Probably went to Woodstock. Hey, wait....Where's Maybelle.....?" It makes telling people about her loss less painful when there is a gigantic goofy distraction at the end of the leasth.
Once again, I have to say: If you are looking for a dog, consider an adult rescue. Larry came from a high-kill shelter, and we are lucky to have him.
Larry, snuggling with Hubby's ALF toy.
In the SMALL dog bed, naturally.