It's just after 10:30pm on our first July 4th with The Bulldog. Poor boy. It's so easy to forget just how messed up this dog was when we first got him. I mean, wind was new to him. Wind. He was three and a half years old, and he'd never had wind in his floppy ears.
He's still a little sound sensitive, but he's made huge progress. Normally he alert-barks when he hears a new noise, and then we go see, and he's fine after that.
Fireworks, apparently, are a bridge too far. Trust me, a 90lb American bulldog can make a lot of noise when he feels like it, and loud noises are definitely on his short list. And then there's the freaking vuvuzela. I mean, really, whose bright idea was it to give the tween neighbor kid a vuvuzela? In the middle of town, at night, when I have to work tomorrow?
I love fireworks. I love the Fourth. But for the love of apple pie, stop with the noise making at 10:30p. That's not so much to ask, is it? Assemblage 23 is apparently just not thumpy enough to disguise all the firecrackers. And A23 (among other bands) has gotten the Bulldog through several weeks of road construction outside our house.
At least he doesn't do this during thunderstorms...