Fireworks, I still hate ’em

Poor Lucy, blissfully asleep. Stretched out full length and snoring like an old drunk, she woke up and piled off the couch like a shot when one very loud firework went off.

Next thing I know she’s opening her crate door and hiding in the back of her crate.

I drop the towel down over the unlatched door and she rattles around then plops down to go to sleep in there.

I am pissed that she’s so scared she hides.

I am pissed that this is only the beginning of her terror filled nights yet to come as the idiots keep setting them off, 1 here, 1 there intermittently, all night, every night. The entire summer.