Jimmy Sez

It's no secret that my affinity for dogs runs deep. At the Sez household we were dogless for over a year after saying goodbye to Buddy  - possibly the greatest dog who ever lived - and decided to take on the journey of finding a new dog this past fall. On that journey I've learned two very important life lessons when it comes to dogs: (1) Finding the right dog for your time, place, and situation is difficult at best and (2) separation anxiety in dogs is a very real thing with no clear solution. Before a stroke of luck landed Buddy in my lap, Mrs. Sez and I would regularly visit the local SPCA to see what dogs were available. We learned then that the dogs that wind up at these places are not the type to gamble on when you're trying to start a family. This time, I started by scouring the internet for dog rescues and found that going this route is...just as difficult. There are tons of reasons for this. A few examples: Dogs that appear to be within reasonable driving distance...

It's been a year since I   wrote a tribute   the best dog I'll ever know. As these things tend to go, sometimes it feels like yesterday and sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. The Casa de Sez still feels a bit empty without Buddy, and we all still miss him terribly. With a year gone by now, he's been on my mind more than usual, so it feels like a good time to share a quick story about friendship, loss, and the overwhelming power of Ray Charles in front of a piano. Soon after we said goodbye to Buddy boy, Mrs. Sez and I drowned our sorrows by binge-watching Boardwalk Empire , because we're only about 20 years behind on good TV shows. In the middle of season three, there's an episode focused on Al Capone where he does many things you might expect from Al Capone. However, there's a subplot about his deaf son being bullied at school. After initially trying to teach his son to physically fight back - which doesn't go well - the episode ends with a brief momen...

In the neighborhood I grew up in there was a dog named Shannon. To this day I'd probably count her as the nicest dog I've ever met. She was a Sheltie who was eager to make friends with everybody she encountered - including kids - and had boundless energy for play, especially if a tennis ball was involved. She was a joy to be around. When I was seven years old what I wanted more than anything in the world was a dog of my own. As luck would have it, Shannon was due to have a litter of puppies around that time and my parents agreed that we could adopt one. In the summer of 1990 we had a new family member named Mickey. He was an interesting looking mutt with the body frame and hair texture of his mother combined with floppy ears and the hair color of a Rottweiler. More importantly, he inherited Shannon's friendless and desire for playtime, albeit with the protective streak of a shepherd as he barked at any living thing that dared come near the house. Life with Mickey was everyt...