Our Independence Day

Fireworks. Bottle rockets. Firecrackers. They are caught aflame twice a year. On New year's Eve. And during July 4th. They explode in brilliant colors, like some shooting star, across the nighttime skies. Fireworks entertain those who care to watch them. They produce gleeful cheers from spectators. "Ooohs and Ahhhs". Plus, around here, fireworks also bring on drunken stupidity from neighbors!! Unfortunately. But, to poor Rose, those bottle rockets, which, quite literally sound like bombs from some warzone, are extremely loud and incredibly close!! Extremely loud and incredibly close. This began as an odd July 4th, with a touch of humorous coincidence. My sister had been baby-sitting nine little downy-feathered chicks. She temporarily transferred them from their home to ours. They were adorable!! I held one.... Twice!! My fingers felt her soft feathers and bony immature body. Here is the humorous coincidence. What were we were eating for lunch? Not barbecued hotdogs. We were eating home-made fried chicken!! No joke!! Isn't life funny? I think so!! Rose, my "food-lovin'" birddog, seemed immediately fascinated by these downy chicks!! Immediately fascinated. Their "cheep-cheep-cheeping" sounds caught her attention!! Why am I not surprised? When my sister gently held one for us to see, Rose stood up on her hind legs, ears perked, forehead furrowed, colossal brown eyes intensely fixated. As if she was thinking: Mmmm....Yummy!! This looks like a tasty snack!! Can I catch it? All of them? Can I? Can I? Can I? Let me at them!! Then she licked her lips!! "Rose!!" I playfully scolded. We set up the chick's "camp" in "our" bedroom. With its door securely closed. "Sorry Rose...." I repeatedly told my mutt, "You can't have the little baby downy chicks!!" Fireworks began early, around 6:00 PM. Even though it was still light out!! Rose and I were sitting together on the living room rug, until our neighbors' friends began arriving in large groups!! Carrying fireworks. Oh boy.... Rose then began to bark at every slammed car door, looking expectantly out the window for friends. And my family was watching a movie!! Oh dear. We then temporarily hung out in my youngest brother's--Uncle Michael, to Rose--bedroom. I started the blue window fan. For two reasons. It was hot and stuffy in his bedroom. Plus, fans produce a little "white noise" to counteract bottle rockets' deafening explosions. I turned on Uncle Michael's television. I decided to "kill some time" and watch the Special Features from "Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows". Soon thereafter, bottle rockets exploded. This forced Rose to nervously stand on all fours, looking like some deer in a vehicle's headlights. She walked away, and headed toward the closed hollow wooden door. Rose attempted to seek refuge in Uncle Michael's closet--an off limits location--because of its broken crawl-space door. Gasp!! "No, no, no!! Don't go in there!!" I frantically yelled. My submissive girl stopped in her tracks. I felt guilty for yelling at a time like this. Guilty. But she forgave me!! I changed DVD's. This time, I was watching something a bit more patriotic. Halfheartedly. I held Rose close. I stroked her velvet-soft fur. Uncle Michael's digital clock struck 6:00 PM. We were then forced to vacate his bedroom, as if evacuating some burning building, while bottle rockets exploded outside. It no longer felt safe. To Rose. Nowhere did. I opened Uncle Michael's door, and let Rose aimlessly wander loose around our house, like some confused, lost child. I followed her. I then lead Rose toward the quietest room in our house, where even bottle rockets' booming explosions are muffled. Muffled. As though we are hiding in some cave. Where is that room? We reside in a one-level house. So it is the "boy's bathroom"!! I sat down on cool, hard flooring with Rose, and watched my little girl slowly settle into a small curled ball, like some threatened potato bug. I stroked her soft fur, hair shedding everywhere. I sang some patriotic songs. Apparently, Rose thinks that I am a good singer, because my voice calms her considerably. I hummed some tunes, as well. I break two very important rules regarding dogs and fireworks. Every time. Two very important rules. Why? Because I am a rebel!! Rule number one: Never pet and console your canine. What?! Hardly anybody follows that!! Rule number two: Allow your dog to wander aimlessly around the house. Really?! Just watch helplessly as your baby walks about from location to location.... And do nothing about it?! If I followed that rule, I'd be sorry. Because chances are, I would find an unpleasant surprise the next morning: Poop and/or urine. We do not want that!! We do not need that. But, being a rebel has its advantages!! Major advantages. Because, by breaking both of these rules, I am allowed some intimate quality time with Rose!! Just the two of us. And, I sat alongside Rose, a few interruptions notwithstanding, for six hours straight. Six hours. Of insanity. From 6:00 PM, to midnight. That was how long everybody's fireworks lasted!! In relationships there are compromises made. Eventually, as soon as Rose seemed calm, I stood up, turned on some patriotic music, walked toward the living room window, and witnessed some brilliant bottle rockets illuminate our ebony skies. Because, after all. What is Independence Day sans some fireworks? I listened to three songs. Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA". Aaron Tippon's "The Stars and Stripes and the Eagle Flies". Plus Martina McBride's beautiful version of "God Bless America". This was the promise I made to Rose. Three songs. I would watch fireworks explode during this time, and then return to her side!! A flawless plan!! And it was successful, too!! Bathrooms are quite the convenient rooms to hang in!! Quite the convenient rooms. They have a bathtub. Which I never had to use. They have a toilet. Which I did use!! They have a sink, complete with fresh running water. Which I never used. The only thing lacking? Sprite soda!! Well.... It is only a few short steps from the "boy's bathroom" to our garage!! Sweet!! So, around 10:30 PM, I snuck into our garage. Bottle rockets exploded, echoing off the walls. It truly did feel like I was in some war-torn nation out there!! Like an explosion at any given moment could blow down our house or sever my limbs!! I did not feel safe!! At all!! And, neither did poor Rose, who would have followed me out into the garage if I allowed her to. She was so brave, though!! Tremors never once worked their way through her body. Rose did not cower beneath tables like last year. We created ourselves a "cave" in the "boy's bathroom", and that is where she remained!! All night long!! As soon as the skies were silent, I gently lead Rose out of our "cave", and into my bedroom. All was well now....I could finally pull my exhausted body into bed!! Finally. My sister's nine little downy chicks had been driven back home, so they were safe from any canine intruders, namely Rose. However, our bedroom now had an obvious farm smell to it. Bark dust chippings, feathers, chicken feed. Inhale. I love farm smells!! So, at midnight, Rose ran around the bedroom like some insane manic, meanwhile breaking my sister's number one strict rule, and entering her side. Which I allowed!! Rose was going crazy looking for those little downy chicks!! Her block nostrils inspected every corner.... Repeatedly!! I laughed so hard. Then, suddenly, I was high on silly giddiness, and no longer exhausted!! Well, now isn't Rose resilient!! She swiftly moved onto the next thing--chicken smells--until finally falling asleep!! It was as if no bottle rockets or screaming fireworks even exploded for six hours on end....