You humans really have to rethink this whole 4th of July concept. It's bad enough already, what with the hot, hot, hot and the bugs, bugs, bugs AND I had to take refuge in the bathtub three times already this weekend. I keep trying to explain to Mom that it is the only safe place to be during storms. She just doesn't get it, even after all these years. Mom is a good human and I can't imagine life without her, but she can be awfully dense at times. I do try hard to look after her, but it isn't easy.
And then there's the bombs in the air thing. WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE THINKING? Mom says they are just fireworks and I
don't need to worry. See what I mean about her being a bit dense
Tonight was the WORST. The neighbors had a big
party with huge, HUGE bombs. Even Mom was muttering about fools and
idiots setting off giant bombs directly over the top of their 1970's
trailer house; being glad that everything is so wet that not even a moron with a rocket could make the field burn and that this is why her driveway is 300 feet long.
All you people out there are probably wondering how the prey animals
took the massive explosions going off 50 feet over their heads. The horse got a little nervous the first time, but the donkeys didn't care. Huge, HUGE BOMBS going off over their heads and they didn't CARE! It
just goes to show that those donkeys aren't as smart as everyone thinks.
Do you know what the absolute worst thing was though? As if heat, humidity,
bugs, thunder and BOMBS wasn't enough; Mom took me to the VET today.
Can you blame me if I told that horrible, evil vet that I would bite her
if she touched me? So what if I broke a tooth and I'm having episodes
of bad lameness. I'm fine, FINE. There is no reason to subject a good dog like me to
At least they did listen to me. Finally. Mom says my
tooth is OK as is, she got some medicine for me and, best of all, she
says that she and the vet agreed that I am not going to have to go back
there. The humans will try to work things out over the phone as any aid
the vet can offer is nullified by the trauma that visiting the terrible,
evil place causes me.
I think the vet is just afraid I'll bite her. That's OK with me and I guess that is why a good dog should never give
up on his person. She may be dense at times, but she does try.
Now that I've got all this off my chest, I guess I might make it through this awfullest of holidays. Mom says the
worst of the bombings should be over with (although I am not at all sure that I believe her), she has stuff to make me feel
better when I need it, I get to keep all of my teeth, there was no
thunder tonight and I have my very own fan. I suppose things could be worse. Maybe.
Now, if everyone would just learn to play Frisbee or chase sticks instead of setting off bombs, the world would be a much better place.