The Puppy Files: The Fourth of July

Welcome to yet another edition of The Puppy Files, a series in which I travel down memory lane to when I was an itty bitty little puppy with large gnashing teeth and a bad attitude.

Technically speaking, my very first Fourth of July occurred when I was just one month old and, to tell you the truth, I really don't remember it.  You see, at that point in my life, my days were completely and utterly occupied with two tasks: Eating and finding a nice cozy place to sleep in the huddled furry mass known as my brothers and sisters.  As you can see, I didn't have time to consider the outside world.

So, the first time that I fully got to experience the Fourth of July was when I was just over a year old and living with my two legged family.  Now, I'd like to take a moment to clarify that while I was still just as obsessed with eating and sleeping as I was for my first Fourth of July, by the time I was one year old I had matured enough to add additional hobbies to my repertoire such as digging holes, watching airplanes fly by overhead, and perfecting my bad attitude.  Anyway, at first, everything seemed relatively normal:  It was Sunday, it was summer, and my family had spent the day preparing (and then eating) an outdoor barbecue.  I, on the other paw, had spent the day mooching food, gnawing on people's hands, and staring forlornly up at the unplugged air conditioner sitting in Ma and Pa's bedroom window.  It wasn't until evening that things became odd.

At 9PM, despite the fact that it was dark outside and way past my bedtime, my family suddenly declared that we should all go outside and sit on the front porch.  I thought this was very suspicious.  You see, even today, my family and I don't really spend that much time sitting out on the front porch.  My family says that it has something to do with the fact that I bark at everything I see and that I'd disturb the neighbors.  I, however, believe it's because they are collectively too lazy to carry the lawn chairs out from the backyard to the front.  Anyway, Pa lassoed me with my leash and he and Sister took me outside.  Ma hung back for a little while, stopping off in the kitchen before joining us on the porch.

When we were all gathered on the porch, Ma sat down on the concrete and called me to her side.  With my mouth open, I made a bee-line for her wrist, but she managed to circumvent my mouth and finagle me into a sitting position next to her.

Then we waited.

At first, I had no idea what we were waiting for, but then, all of a sudden, I saw a burst of light and heard a loud boom.  I looked over to Ma with an inquisitive look (you know the one...ears square, mouth closed, and eyes wide) and discovered that she was offering me a chunk of carrot.  I didn't really know why I was being given a carrot, but because I'm not one to turn down food, I ate it immediately.

A few seconds later there was another flash of light and another loud boom.  This time, I watched as the sparkling light from the nearby firework showered back down to Earth.  Then I turned and collected another chunk of carrot from Ma.  This went on for close to an hour; I'd watch the firework explode in the sky and then turn to Ma to collect my treat.  By the end of the evening, I had admired dozens of explosions and eaten my weight in carrots.

Now, I'm sure that if I wasn't, at the time, such a rotten little puppy, I would have come up with a way to inform Ma that I wasn't afraid of the fireworks and therefore did not need to be distracted by crunchy vegetables.  But I was a rotten puppy (and rather proud of it) and a big fan of carrots so I kept my mouth shut.

Sadly, my indifference to the fireworks meant that this carrot buffet would not be repeated in years to come.  Was I disappointed?  Very.