You’ve seen The Prude’s pup.
Awwww, you say, she is so cute!
What doesn’t show up on photos is the yellow streak running down her back, her lily liver, or her chicken attitude.
The little girl is a coward.
Now firecracker season is upon us and The Prude will spend the next several days trying to convince the pup that the Fireworks are Not Out to Get Her.
The pup won’t believe a word.
We’ll head out to fireworks Monday and struggle anew with the question from the last several years.
Take her along into the thick of the battle, where at least we can hold her and try to comfort her?
Or leave her home alone, where she can hear the bangs and booms, but in a more muted form?
When she is home and hears the pop of a gun, a backfiring car or–heaven forbid–continuous fireworks set off by patriotic neighbors, she panics and tries to insert herself into the smallest hole in the deepest corner of the house. If she could, she would stuff her paws in her ears.
The Prude is worried that someday she will return from fireworks to discover the dog with only her nose sticking out of a toilet paper tube.
So we take her along.
This is the conversation that ensues:
Family: “Oh look! Fireworks in the sky! Far away! Aren’t they pretty?
Family Dog: “Not again! We just went through this 7 dog years ago!”
Family: “You’re OK! See? We’re cuddling you tight!”
Family Dog: “If you really loved me you would throw yourself of top of those bombs.”
F: “It’s almost over! You can make it!”
FD: “Possibly…if that gopher over there will share his hole with me…”
F: “All done! Let’s go home!”
FD: “Could you check and make sure I still have all my extremities? Oh, and by the way. You’ll be hearing from my SPCA representative.”
The neighbor’s just bought a backyard fireworks set. It is going to be a long weekend.
