Ok, if there is some kind of prize for people who obsessively love their pets and do crazy things for them and if I get hit by a bus before I can get the award that I so richly deserve, will someone please nominate me to get it posthumously? Because I really should get one.
You KNOW how much Goldie likes fireworks. They are right up there with rectal thermometers and deer ticks in the Goldie Dog Book o' Fun Things. Actually I know for a fact she would rather have either of those things than to suffer through fireworks nearby.
Every night (EVERY STINKING NIGHT) for the duration of the 12-day county fair, there are fireworks at 10 pm. We live about 1/2 mile from the fairgrounds.
So every night at 9:45, Goldie and I jump in the car and I drive like Lot fleeing Sodom and Gomorrah to Carpinteria, about 15 miles north, where I turn around and drive back home.
Every stinking night.
It has worked out better for her than for me. She hasn't been traumatized, but I usually go to bed about 10, since I get up 5:15ish. When I get home after our drive, I can't go to bed right away and end up twittering at midnight. Yawn.
I may fall asleep at my desk and be fired and end up homeless in a cardboard box, but at least my dog will be calm.