Awake with the lightening sky, I look blearily at the clock on the nightstand. 5:32 it glows just as it stoically announced 4:29, 3:15, 2:30 each time another round of mortars went off. The dogs are curled up as close to the bed as they can get seeking the comfort of proximity to their peeps. They almost trust us to keep them safe from the chaos outside which began early yesterday evening.
It was the 3rd of July and in the Republic of Mentone, that means we haul out the BIG guns. Minor holidays like Martin Luther King Jr. day or Veteran’s Day are celebrated with the more modest types of almost “safe and sane” sparklers that are legal in less fire prone areas. In our area, Bic lighters are discouraged and possession of anything more entertaining is punishable by a fine. Not to be deterred, my scofflaw neighbors believe that New Years Eve is the penultimate, with the 4th of July being the pyrotechnic climax of the entire year.
Tonight, or even this afternoon, as deferred gratification is not the strong suit of this group of pyromaniacs, we will be surrounded by world class, military grade explosives that set off car alarms and drive pets mad with fear.
What screw is loose in the heads of these people who spend hundreds of dollars on something as ephemeral and potentially destructive as illegal fireworks? Why is it more entertaining to risk burning your neighbors’ house down than to watch the display put on at the local university, from the comfort of your front porch? Seriously, won’t someone please ‘splain it to me?
I guess I’ll see if the pot store is open today. I’m told they have a doggie CBD oil that takes the edge off the dogs’ anxiety.