From JuJu with Love

For most people, fireworks mean summer.

For many dogs… and many veterans and others living with PTSD… they mean weeks of anxiety.

Where I live, one fireworks display isn’t the problem. Every lake and country club seem to have their own celebrations. For nearly three weeks, every evening comes with the question: “Will tonight be quiet… or will Maizey spend the next half hour pacing, panting, and looking at me to make it stop?”

Tonight I was in the kitchen, washing dishes and refilling her peanut butter Kongs for the freezer to prepare for the next fireworks display, when I heard her little paws behind me.

She had gotten out of bed just to find me.

She looked up at me with those big brown eyes that seemed to say,

“Mom… please don’t leave me alone. There are scary noises outside.”

So I didn’t.

We have a routine. I close all the blinds and curtains. I turn the volume on the TV up. I wrap her snuggly in her thunder shirt. I bring her a frozen peanut butter Kong to try to distract her from the booms going off overhead. During thunderstorms and fireworks, the basement seems to be her safe place so often we head downstairs.

I have trazodone. Our veterinarian prescribed it, and on the worst nights, I use it.

But I hate seeing her so groggy and disconnected. So every fireworks season, I find myself asking the same question: Is tonight bad enough?

Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes I try the Thundershirt, a peanut butter Kong, and lots of reassurance first, hoping we can get through it together.

Ten minutes after the last boom, Maizey was still licking the last bit of peanut butter from her Kong. Her ears finally relaxed. She curled up beside me, sighed, and fell asleep.

We survived another fireworks night.

Tomorrow, we’ll do it all over again.

Some people stock up on hot dogs and sparklers for the Fourth. I stock up on peanut butter Kongs and emotional support strategies for my anxious sled dog.

After I wrote this, I called my dad to see what he was doing for the Fourth of July weekend.

“Nothing,” he said. “We’re staying home with Gertie. She hates the fireworks too.”

Then he added, “I take her into the closet. I put on music… and I hold her paw.”

Apparently, it’s not just Maizey and me. Sometimes loving a dog means spending your holiday wherever they feel safest.

If you have a dog who’s terrified of fireworks, I’d love to hear what has helped. We’ve tried the Thundershirt. We’ve tried peanut butter Kongs. We stay home. We close the windows. Some nights it helps. Some nights… not so much.

If you’ve found something that makes fireworks season a little easier, my poor sled dog—and I—would love to hear about it.

From Juju (and Maizey) with love 💙🐾