No, I have no objection to celebrating the independence of our glorious nation. And, really, the ideals the country was founded on are pretty glorious, even when the end results are sometimes mixed. The 4th is as good a day as any to remind oneself of that — read the Declaration of Independence (or historical document of choice) and get that warm fuzzy that we’re here, together, trying to do a good thing. (Oh, is that just me? Well, I am kind of a history nerd.)
What I dislike about the 4th is the amount of blowing things up that happens. I love pretty colors in the sky as much as anyone — and on the 4th I was out on the coast and enjoyed the fireworks tremendously.
However… I have a couple of dogs who don’t like fireworks. The loud noise puts Abby in an absolute panic. She’ll be skittish and shake for hours, hiding behind or under things, and she’ll refuse to eat or go outside.
But the 4th is only one day a year, right? Right. Of course. I can deal with one day a year. On the 4th, I put the girls in their pen an hour or so before the fireworks were going to start and they curled up and fell asleep before they had a chance to get upset. (Abby woke up and was unhappy for a while, but it wasn’t too bad.)
However, for the fireworks people were setting off on the 5th and the fireworks they’ve been setting off this morning, I have no adequate preparation. Last night Abby hid under the bed (she doesn’t quite fit under the bed, but she can crawl under if she’s sufficiently dedicated to the idea) for several hours and refused dinner. This morning, similarly, she won’t eat and cowers inside whenever I open the back door.
I am vastly annoyed.
