July 5, 2018
Which was worse, the July 4 explosions or my landlady? She paced around me all night wringing her hands, apologizing to me, petting me, bringing me treats and toys, cursing the American Revolution. I just wanted to hang out in a far corner where I could cry and shiver and drool and pee in peace. All us dogs do that when we’re scared, no big deal, but it took all my concentration just to deal with her. If I had thumbs I’d have called her doctor for Ativan while she was calling my vet for Clomipramine. (No one answers the phone at 9 p.m. on a national holiday.) She calmed down by dawn’s early light.