Bucking Farmy

As some regular readers probably recall, this week is one of the worst in the year for Hound. She’s absolutely petrified of fireworks, and the run up to November 5th is a nightmare for her. Admittedly she’s a lot better this year than last year, when she pretty much had a total mental/nervous breakdown. We’ve been seeing a homeopathic vet who has prescribed her lycopodium, which has had an amazing effect on bringing down her anxiety and stress levels in general, but still this time of year isn’t a good one. In fact, for this week we actually have her on sedatives in the evening – it’s not something I like doing, but it’s far preferable (both for her and for us) than the effects we saw this time last year.

However, it doesn’t mean we’re any less barmy. This week I’ve been leaving the office at about 2.30pm, so I can get home and give her a decent long walk/run round the local park, so that we can then be home and she can be doped up in plenty of time before night comes, and along with it the legions of bangs, whizzes and whees that seem to make up the majority of small-scale fireworks.

Today was the final straw in that concept – it’s absolutely chucked it down with rain, and I don’t feel it would be far from accurate to call it torrential. Hound is now soaked – well, she’s been dried off a bit, but the poor sod was absolutely dripping – and with luck it also means that we won’t have any fireworks tonight.

But yes, I still feel decidedly crackers, knowing that I’m leaving work early in order to come home and walk the dog so she’s had some exercise and can hopefully sleep a bit through any fireworks that do happen. So really it’ll just be me and Herself who worry about the fireworks this time…