On Behalf of All Dogs—STOP IT!

Four hours. Four hours of pacing, panting and panic. We sat with her in a dark closet, sat with her when she crawled under the bed, tried to calm her when she wanted to climb into the cabinet under the bathroom sink and when she tried to wedge herself between a bookshelf and a plant stand—I fucking HATE fireworks.

She’s seven years old, so of course we go through this every year, twice a year, for New Year’s Eve and the 4th of July. We’ve tried calming meds. We’ve tried natural supplements and CBD. We’ve tried the thunder coat. We’ve had every TV on to try and drown out the noise. We’ve done ALL the things, okay and nothing helps. Nothing helps when three houses down, people are in the middle of the road launching fireworks that crackle and BOOM through the air, reverbs slamming into the house over and over like a war zone until well after midnight. And we get to go through it all again tonight. Bet. I miss the days of old, when explosives weren’t legal in the hands of drunken (or sober for that matter) revelers. When, if you wanted to see a fireworks display, you had to leave the house—drive—and gather with the general public in a designated, safe location to watch professionals light up the sky in time with patriotic music blasting from your radio. Imagine it, sitting on your tailgate or an old classic aluminum lawn chair, head tilted back, cold drink sweating in your hand because the humidity was so thick, loving life, oooh-ing and aaah-ing…then you went home and went to bed. None of this rogue midnight cannon fire existed. If you need me today, I will be pre-stressing for my dog about tonight…and possibly the night after that because of the damn fireworks . 🙄 #fireworks💥 #scareddog #fireworksarescary