I miss his precious face so incredibly much. Our home isn’t complete without him. I still find myself apologizing to him for what happened. It’s still the only way I know how to cope with him not being around. I’d give anything to have him back.

We’ve been using the fireplace these last few days. Sunny loved the fireplace. He would always sit directly in front of the fire; the light off of the fire would bounce off of his orange fur essentially making him glow. I miss seeing that. I miss the way he enjoyed the fireplace; I miss the way he enjoyed life.

I just got up to get a tissue and decided to check up on Macky. He was laying on the bed with one leg in the air and cleaning his crotch. Looks like we’ll be washing the sheets again. But that’s Macky. And I’m so grateful to have him as a constant reminder of his brother, Sunny. They’re such opposites, but yet so similar. In a way, Sunny is still very much alive through Macky (except when Macky is bad, which is quite often).

We miss you very much, Sunny. There’s not a day that goes by when we’re not thinking about you or talking about one of our many wonderful memories of you. Tell god I said what’s up and tell Santa not go be too hard on Macky this year.

I didn’t know where this entry was going when I started it, and I don’t know how to end it now. I suppose I’ll just end it here.  I leave you with a picture of Sunny.  He’s covered in ash from the fireplace — one of his goofiest moments ever.

Instead, we’re, once again, clueless about what it could be.  The cardiologist advised us to possibly see a neurologist if the episodes continue to happen. 

In a sense, it’s good we ruled out his heart, but I think I’d be more comfortable knowing that it was in fact his heart and we have to then medicate him.  As of right now, we have no idea what’s occurring.  I’m just now hoping that his episodes never happen again. 

Yesterday, he realized, for the eight thousandth time since his birth, what that white stuff on the ground really was. He curiously sniffs it until he realizes his nose has become numb — at that time, he gives out a huge sneeze and then looks to me as if I’m supposed to wipe his mouth or something. Then he’ll investigate further by putting a paw print down. He’ll like the sensation and start to prance over the snow. But, it’s not your typical prance. It’s the ‘ohmigod, my paws are getting soaked and extremely dirty’ prance kinda like what Sal and I do when we’re uncomfortable and dirty.

His pooping style has change throughout the years. And yes, I just did say pooping style. As a puppy, I don’t think he actually knew he was pooping. He’d lift his leg up along side a tree, as if he was going to pee, and well, poop instead. This was great, because neighbors thought he was peeing and thus, I didn’t have to pick up that warm mushy poop ::gag::.

Romeo them moved onto mounds to poop on. His trend started by pooping in my mom’s palm tree flower pot (sorry mom). How he ever got his big ass in that pot, I have no idea. I suppose it’s yet another Schiano-trait — we accomplish bizarre unheard of thingss, and usually half-assed, too.

I think Romeo is still on the mound stage of his pooping life. You know how when you plant new trees, there is usually that mound base of mulch? Yeah, well, Romeo certainly likes to squat on those bad boys.

And those mounds of snow that form after shoveling? Romeo poop directly on top.

More Schiano traits?

Don’t wake him during his naps. He’ll be extremely cranky and just want to go back to sleep. Or he’ll get annoyed, start barking in your face until you take him for a w-a-l-k (had to spell it out, just incase he’s reading, you know us schiano’s — internet addicts).

His eat habits? Romeo will eat his dog food if he knows he won’t be getting any more human food. Yes, that’s right, he’ll starve during the day in hopes of getting some human grub throughout meal-time. Then, late at night, he’ll consume himself into his food dish.

The one thing Romeo does that’s so not Schiano-like is drinking out of puddles. [caps]WHAT SCHIANO WOULD DO SUCH A THING?[/caps] But I’ve been trying to teach him and trying to let him know that us Schianos only drink the finest of bottled water — and to never settle for anything less.

That dog still has a lot to learn.