Just got home from a spectacular fireworks show. Fireworks have some sort of magical property about them that turns even the oldest and most jaded adults into infants again. Everything is "oohs" and "aahs" and pretty colors and lights.
I mean no ill by this, merely an observation. And I fit into the stereotype. We had new shapes and colors and effects this year that I've never seen in firework form before. One particularly awesome rocket exploded into a cube shape. How crazy is that?!?
About seven years ago my moms discovered a mini-park that is so close to the show that we could see, and probably swim right up to and touch, the barge from which they were firing the rockets. We did the whole shebang today, including getting there insanely early (we stocked up on games and food) to bag nice seats. I have never felt quite as patriotic as I did watching those fireworks and thinking about this country two and a half centuries ago. There is something insanely wonderful about being so close to fireworks that with the almost but not quite ear-splitting explosion, you feel a vibration, a pretty sizable one, in your chest. I could go on about how amazing fireworks are for a while.
My dog does not agree. At all. This is the first 4th that I've had her. Last summer I was traveling and she was at home with my dads. My step-dad told me that she wasn't a fan. Ha. Ha. I'm sure if I had asked he would have told me that this translated into the fact that fireworks seem to be hell on earth for my poor pup. Knowing that she didn't like them, my step-mom, who's last dog was also "not a fan" advised that we give her half of a chewable (citrus flavor, yum) Dramamine. Knowing my dog as well as I do, I knew she would have been more than happy to eat it by itself, but to be nice, since I thought it was going to knock her unconscious (don't worry, it's safe) I coated it in peanut butter.
On the off-chance that she would be up (I thought to myself) I put her food dish in her crate with her, since we left before her dinner time. Still, seven and a half hours later, it remains untouched. Stacy is physically vibrating with anxiety and cannot stop panting. I tried to take her on her normal nighttime walk around the block, but one rocket blew and she took off like a bullet back to the door. Poor girl.
Damn. Fireworks pack a punch when you have canine hearing, especially when you aren't the calmest dog on the planet to start.
Her negative reaction, however, hasn't wiped the glorious memories of those awesome (using the original meaning of the word awesome) rockets.
Happy 4th of July! I feel pretty confident in my Google Analytics report that tells me that I haven't had a single reader from out of the country yet, so to my fellow Americans, may I say happy Independence Day.
Just remember: alcohol + fire + explosions = disaster.
Cheers,
-T.A.D.
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