Black Doggerel

...Oh joy. Fireworks went on sale yesterday, and today is Friday.

In fact, there weren't too many today, and Spike was nicely mellowed on his melatonin and came through all right - although after one of our charming slackjawed local youth managed to set fire to Big Park, he was so freaked by the flashing blue lights that I had to sit with him in the bathroom to eat his dinner. Poor baby.

two more months of this. *sigh*

( Who shot the meme? )

In other news, I am sufficiently tired of the ever-increasing squalor of my flat that I am considering advertising for someone to clean it in exchange for sex.

In other other news, it's now been over a week since Spike last yelled death threats at a strange dog while out on a walk. He isn't dopily over-relaxed as he was the first time I gave him melatonin; he's acting Spike-normal apart from the reduced aggression. It has to be the tablets, though, because I've been trying to discourage that habit for years - I know nothing I did in the training line would make it disappear overnight.

I am having to give him a tablet pretty much every evening, because my craggy-browed neighbours are so excited about being able to make fire that they're still doing it every night, quite often not even waiting for dark. The quietest nights are Friday and Saturday. I was puzzled by that at first, then I realised that the ones who don't stop making the noise must be the ones who are out drinking those nights.

I give Spike the tablets hidden in a piece of sausage, and now he's taken to waiting by the fridge the minute he hears the first bang.

*sigh* Firework season's in full swing here already. They went legally on sale on October 15th, and since then we haven't had a single night, weekday or weekend, rain or not, that someone in my neighbourhood hasn't been firing them off.

This is partly a British thing, and also partly an effect of living on this particular housing estate. Townsend has a rough reputation, with good reason. It's full of young twenty-somethings who are often drunk and often bored, and it's stuck right out on the edge of town so that they don't have anywhere to get drunk and bored except for the many public parks and bits of common ground. And the 24-hour supermarket where fireworks have gone on sale is a five-minute walk away.

I've been trying not to give Spike a melatonin tablet every single night, but I'm finding he needs one about five nights out of seven because the bangs just NEVER FUCKING STOP. Last night there were a lot of those whistly shrieky fireworks, and he needed Rescue Remedy and a massage as well.

I'm only resisting taking the damn tablets myself because I know Spike's going to need them all this autumn. Last week while I was out walking them, two of our charming local yoof thought it was funny to let off some firecrackers right across the road from us - deliberately, I mean, after having SEEN that I had dogs. And laughing at Spike jumping out of his skin. If they hadn't been on bicycles I think I might have beaten them to death on the spot. As it was I couldn't catch the little fuckheads.

In other news, on the way back from Big Park this morning, we encountered Downstairs Neighbour and his German Shepherd. I would like to announce to everyone in the world that Spike DID NOT BARK. The German Shepherd did, because Spike has gone "I KILL JOOO" at her so often in the past; but he only gave her a dirty look. I attribute it to last night's leftover melatonin in his system, but he got so much praise and sausage for it that I hope the habit may stick.

Also please note new icon. Someone made non-movie-watching me watch Four Brothers, and now I've gone all fangirly.

blergh. Jumped by an offleash beagle while dogwalking. I say "jumped", in fact beagle was perfectly friendly, but my dogs were on-leash and therefore Spike threw one of his THROW THAT THING OUT THE AIRLOCK meltdowns, during which he managed to catch my left pinkie finger in a leashloop. I think he may have sprained it. It hurts like fuck, is twice normal size and can only just move.

happy happy joy joy.


eta: 1900, barely dark, and I hear distant pyrotechnics already. what the fuck is it with people? Gave Spike a pill.

My fucking split lip has swelled up and gone bright red. Whether this is an infection, a reaction to the chemicals in the hot tub or a reaction to the aloe vera lipsalve I bought on Monday, I have no idea; but it hurts and it's nasty. Not happy.

And some fucking pea-brained local adrenaline junkie - living within 500 yards of me, I might add - has picked tonight for the first firework display of the autumn. I didn't think they were even on fucking sale yet; perhaps he's saved them from last year. Luckily, he gave me a short preview several hours ago when it first got dark, and I gave Spike a melatonin then. So he's coping uncharacteristically well now. Small mercies. Once again we are massively grateful to cottonmanifesto. Love you!

*looks at soft-eyed black-and-white hearthrug wearing Spike's collar*

...Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my psycho hosebeast ceiling-dancing shark dog?

He's perfectly happy, and he's himself; he's not acting uncoordinated or drunk or anything. He's just freakishly, unbelievably, unnaturally mellow. He even played tuggy with me when we went for a walk. But it wasn't like normal Spike tuggy; I was expecting shark-wrestling and got a polite trained dolphin. He didn't even pull on the leash.

He's lying on the floor. There's been no pacing, no barking out of the window, no "let's do a circuit of the room without touching the floor", no sudden leaps at my head or Squish-baiting. He's watching the cat, but he's gone an entire afternoon without nosepoking or chasing her, and he's watching her slack-eyed and fondly, with none of his usual fierce coiled-spring attitude going on. I've not had this peaceful an afternoon since the day I brought him home, and frankly, it's freaking me the fuck out.

Of course, the effects of the melatonin didn't kick in till after the storm was over, so it wasn't as much help with that as it might have been; though it might have helped him recover quicker. I think it'll be a lifesaver when it comes to more predictable phobia triggers like fireworks, though. Thank you again, Cotton!

So today we get to put the Melatonin to the test. Heard the first thunderclap at 3pm, whereupon Spike plastered himself to my leg and said "MAKE IT STOP PLS." I persuaded him to swallow one 3mg tablet wrapped in hamburger (thank goodness I taught him an "eat it" command, because he was far too worried for hamburger - but he is obedient.)

He's now coiled in the bathroom on a pile of laundry looking sorry for himself. I get the feeling the storm isn't going to last, so it'll likely be over before the melatonin actually kicks in; but it'll give me a chance to watch its effect on him, anyway.

thank you again, cottonmanifesto.