Photograph from freefoto.com
Tonight heralded the start of the fireworks season. I know this because I heard a bang and suddenly I had two terrified dogs jockeying for position on my lap while the laptop teetered on the edge. Now starts at least three weeks of random, unpredictable pops, bangs and screams. Unpredictable is the key word here. Fireworks that can be predicted can be pre-empted by tranquillisers or escape to firework free locations.
I can't keep a dog tranquillised every night for three weeks.
I suppose it could be worse. I now have only one dog with firework terror instead of two (the second is just visiting this weekend) and where I live now is a hundred times better than Harrow where I used to live. Back then I used to send one of my dogs away to stay with a friend in central London for the whole of firework season. I was scared that he would have a heart attack if he stayed, and because I was scared, he was even more scared.
I hate fireworks since I became a dog owner. When I ran a dog warden service, we regularly got calls at this time of year asking us to watch out for pets that had panicked and run and were still missing a day later. A friend's son losing an eye to a stray firework was the icing on the cake as far as I was concerned.
I think we should have a day for Diwali, a day for Guy Fawkes, a day for New Years Eve, and they should be organised displays with proper safety precautions. The rest of the year we should ban the bloody lot of them.