|Fireworks-setter-offers, I beseech thee: STOP! in the name|
of frightened canines.
About 9 p.m. or so, someone in my neighborhood set off some fireworks. You know that I'm a sensitive—some might say skittish—guy. Remember, I was kicked off the foxhound team down in South Carolina (and thank goodness for that).
Here's what I think: Is this sort of behavior necessary? Is it legal? Not only that: Can't people leave it until the Fourth? And keep it there? Or at least wait until July? Apparently not.
So I hunkered down in the safest place I could think of, my sister being away and therefore her closet being not quite as comforting as usual. Later, I snuggled in Mom and Dad's closet, not quite as cozy but I decided it would have to do.
As I write, I hear more popping sounds. It's back to the bathroom for me. And here's a problem for my engineer sister to solve: how to make noiseless fireworks. I, and many of my brethren, would be grateful.