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This year has almost ended. Whew…we thought it never would!
If one ventures within their encyclopedia play book of life, and bring up all of the entries they have logged, it would never enable one to fathom what this year has been like for Me, Her, & The Dawg’s.
God Bless America!

It was either lip smacking good, like the relaxing uphill ride of say a roller coaster that gently pushes you back in your seat, up to the adrenaline rush of the white knuckle downhill roller coasters drop. Shall we say when it rained; it poured in drenching torrents, just when you thought it couldn’t rain any harder, it did. Then if that wasn’t enough, bolts of bright lightning would fill the black sky, seconds later an earth shaking window rattling clap of thunder explodes. Then magically the rain would stop as fast as it had started; there before us would be this glowing neon rainbow that would fill the sky and our lives, the passion from the rainbow, only made everything better and at times; more so. We would embrace and hold each other passionately, feeling each other’s energy with each passing heartbeat. We smile inside knowing and having the confidence trusting it won’t happen again, but if it does, we can handle whatever is thrown, blown, or dropped our way.
God Bless America’s Health Care!

This year we both lost friends and relation, bummer, but as sad and disheartening that path may be, it more than made up for it on the upside. When we would share time and space; with friends, and relation, all the while standing up mind you, and not looking down at their faces. A practice of sharing time needs to be repeated much more often, you aren’t getting any younger, and neither are we…Jose’. The spiraling circle of life spins and spins, we The House of Sizer are just not ready to bow to life’s adventures’. After 18 years we are just getting to know each other, our combined sprits are still channeled in the appropriate direction, and we as a team would like to say:
“Shall we do Lunch?”

Our Family, The Dunk and Hattie Pitty Patty; represents what the Jack Russell Terrier Breed is about? The other day I took Dunk and Hattie; to update their shots at the Vets, the walk up to the office with Dunk; his nose to the ground; his tail in a curved arched position, leaving his character, ownership, and logo with each leg salute on the bushes; while walking up the stony path. While Hattie just went about her business and smiled her way to the office door, in her jaunty butch waddle. I opened the door, sitting to the left was this huge biker, and a yippy Jack Russell wanta-be. This resulted in me reining them in, and sitting as far away as I could from them, while responding to the Assistant that yes this was in fact Sizer and family of dawg’s. Hattie sat down and took it all in, while this Yippy wanta-be carried on like trailer trash dogs do. Dunk just moved out to half leash length, tail as erect as a Scorpion, his jar muscles quivering ever so slightly, quietly starring at the dog. After the dog quieted down it wanted to come over; and be friends and play kissy face with Dunk. This one beer too many biker, dull pocket knife on his belt, black leather head scarf; tied back like a Gypsy, his tattoos running up each muscleless arm, and him allowing his dog to enter Dunks space. I could smell Dunks’ energy, it masked the antiseptic smell of the office, and the lead tingled from Dunks juices in my hand. The biker asked do you mind…I said I didn’t mind, but I don’t know about my dog, he is a real Jack Russell Terrier; the sound pressure levels carried pride when I said Terrier. He dusted off my comment; his dog inched his way forward to Dunks motionless nose, Dunk was standing at attention, till the dog’s nose touched him. The black leather vested biker moved, jumping I thought he was having a seizure at first from his quick movements, as he half fell in my direction, as Dunk had his dog by the ear, with Dunk having no intention of letting go. The wanta-be’s yippy bark went to screeching pain of yelps of fear, his feet was back peddling; to the point sparks came off the tiled floor. The biker’s voice reminded me of how a sheep would say, “what are we going to do?” I backhanded Dunk up side his head to break the hold, which he released immediately, with the biker and dog moving hurriedly back to their chair, with his dog in his lap, he looked for damaged goods. The biker then looked at me with a wide eyed disbelieve look, and then he stared down at The Dunk then over to Hattie Pitty Patty; Dunks mother, what his eyes saw was a walking Hurricane with teeth, and a mothers smile of pride in her eye’s for her son, a real Jack Russell Terror.

Susie's Christmas tear filled days and sobbing nights was my most painful experience in my life to date, in that as her Perpetual Care Giver & Lover, I couldn't say or do anything to relive her suffering. My touch was meaningless, with her stiffening and cowering back from my want of bringing back some logical feelings and emotions, that was out of her grasp for the moment. Susie was crushed not being able to bring sense from this black cloud that had engulfed her, with her repeating repeatedly...WHY! The Why's at first, reminded me of Steve Reich's repetitive "Come Out", in place of Come on Out going over and over, it is replaced with "WhyWhyWhyWhy". Her face changed with each "why" she would utter, with non of the facial changes complementing her, but her wearing the face of the caricature from each word suffering would conjure. Why she would say...what have I done? In my feeble Psychology 101: I said it wasn't just you, it was both of us, that made as much sense to me as anything at the time to say. To me the canopy of sorrow that floated over her was easy to understand, I call it being Cruel, someone was Cruel to her and she was at the end of the Cruel Arrow that exploded through her. Now I have to be my most understanding persona, I have to be the most passionate listener, and allow her to get all of the poison out of her system, which was a easy task on my part. When she was analyzing each "Why", she reached inside of her self, and revealed the most sacred parts of her soul to me, that flowed freely from her hidden stored words, that had been on shelves for ages in storage within her. I envisioned myself as a Priest, sitting across from someone giving them their first Confessional. This ritual went on for days, where she blamed her self in her maddening search for an understanding, I noticed that I would drift in and out as a Father, Brother, Buddy, Lover and Priest when the situation presented itself. And if the truth be known, I feel closer to her, after she denuded her soul to me about her daughter, grandchildren, and the baggage that goes with it. I'll never understand how a canceled a pre-Christmas visit could affect the House of Sizer, with a phone call of: "We can't come up because Mike has to play tennis." I call that cruel, somewhere just between the lines of Water Boarding, and lying about the invasion of Iraq. That kind of Cruel...

May the Troyer family and the horse they road in on, have a Happy Healthy New Year.