One of the nice things about living next to a national forest is that fireworks are prohibited. It doesn’t mean everyone is going to follow the law, but most do. There will always be numb nuts who think the rules don’t apply to them, no matter how dry the forest is. Most folks satisfy their urges by going into towns to watch the public display.
With July 4th being on a Tuesday, nearby towns set off fireworks on Saturday. Ol’ HappyDog, she doesn’t keep a calendar. I guess I should remind her so she wouldn’t be surprised.
What is it about fireworks that dogs hate? She was being her usual happy self until the first far away boom. I could barely hear it. Her head pops up. Eyes get that weird spastic look. On the second boom, she’s on the move. She slunk around the house looking for that perfect hiding spot. Under the desk? No. In the bathroom? Nope. Behind the wood stove. Nah. She decided that under the bed and spent a couple of seconds shredding the rug trying to squirm under. She is a chunk trying to fit in a slit. Only her head and neck are hidden, but it seemed to be enough.
Couldn’t get her out for the last potty using verbal commands so I had to leash her. She got me back. Hairsplosion on the rug. I’d have to vacuum the walls and ceilings if we lived near the fireworks firing point.
Down in the Basin, DotDog is auditorily immune behind construction block walls and thick trees. In the open, she’s anxious too.
When we travel, we will definitely keep an eye and ear out for fireworks so we can put our dogs somewhere safe.