On the Fourth of July, when Independence Day is celebrated in the U.S., nearly every city and town across the country puts on fireworks displays. Many also shoot off fireworks as the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve.
Everybody loves fireworks, right? I mean who doesn’t love fireworks. So dramatic, so colorful, so loud. The rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air. So inspirational.
Well, I’ll tell you who doesn’t like fireworks. Me! I don’t like fireworks. Because my dog is terrified by fireworks. Terrified!
Whenever she hears fireworks, she begins shaking all over. She will sometimes walk into the shower or jump into the bathtub, but as long as she hears the explosions of the fireworks, she is beyond consolation. I worry that her heart will give out.
My wife and I try turning up the volume on the TV or the radio to cover up the sounds, but that doesn’t do the trick. The only cure is time, and it usually takes about an hour after the fireworks are over before our poor dog calms down enough to breathe and behave normally again.
So no, when it comes to fireworks, I’m definitely not a fan.
Written for Roger Shipp’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. Photo credit: MorgueFile Fidler Jan New Year’s. I realize that this post isn’t a work of fiction, but when I saw the picture of exploding fireworks, this is all I could think of writing.