oh beautiful, for spacious skies, with loud noise up above...

my poor dog. i don't remember when it started, but was very early on that i noticed her freaking out when she heard fireworks, thunder and/or gunshots.

when i say freaking out, i mean completely muy loco. she goes out of her mind. first she retreats to some far corner in the garage, but soon realizes she can still hear the pops. then she hangs out by the door to the house in the hopes that some weak, unsuspecting child will open it. when they (inevitably) do, she barrels past them at the speed of lightening, with the weight of a black bear and the determination of a killer whale to devour a penguin. there is no stopping her, even if you think you are prepared before opening the door. she forces her way in, panting ferociously, and races to a dark, hidden corner of the house. getting her out after that practically takes an act of God. i find her panting, shaking and making herself really really small. it is really pathetic and pulls every heart string i have. because she is such a good dog inside, she always gets to spend the night indoors on july 4th, on a stormy night or anytime some dickwad decides to shoot his stupid gun in the air. by morning she is fine and ready to go outside again. she greets dumbass---i mean buddy--- and teases him with her tales of being comfy and cool (or warm and dry) on braden's bed all night. he never understands - he's just happy there's a "new" dog in his yard again (yea. he's that stupid)

shortly after we moved into this house in november of 2001, the kids and i left for the thanskgiving holiday weekend to a relative's home 3 hours away. sutter was left in the care of the Dad, in her new backyard with plenty of room to play and explore. a storm came in a day later while the Dad was at work and the dog went absolutely ape-shit. she was in a strange yard, with no kids or nice Mom to comfort her when the thunder rolled in. i can't tell you exactly what happened; i can tell you that i came home three days later to a destroyed gate - when i say destroyed, i mean she managed to rip off the boards along the bottom of it in her desperation to get out; i came home to shredded moulding all along the outside of the back porch door - her nails repeatedly digging at it, trying to get in the house; i came home to a doorknob (yea, the metal-brass-round-outside kind of doorknob) with punctures in it from her teeth. she freakin' tried to open the door using her teeth - think she wanted in...? my poor old sweet sutter.

now, in anticipation of a storm or fireworks, i cancel any plans to be away from the house and let the old girl in early on. i figure each time i probably add a couple of years to her life in doing so and that's just fine with me.