Independence Day: My dog’s personal hell

Aside from a scenario in which Katniss is separated from both my wife and me for more than 10 minutesº—OK, 10 seconds—surrounded by vacuum cleaners, and *gasp* out of food and water, what is surely her worst nightmare¹, and maybe your dog’s, too, is the July 4 weekend. As in right now. It’s not that she’s sympathetic to the British rule of early America and hates freedom; it’s the sound of fireworks popping constantly in our neighborhood throughout the evening of the fourth that terrifies her and her very astute sense of hearing. In a selfish way, I suppose it’s … Continue reading Independence Day: My dog’s personal hell