This patriotic dog is afraid of everything except fireworks

Florida summers can be treacherous for dogs, what with blazing pavement and heavy rain dampening bathroom hour. Now mix in flaming combustibles shot off in suburban streets with the aid of copious Miller Lites. Fun for the fingerless, sure, but our poor pooch pals have much more intense hearing than the humans buying packs of fireworks called “Waking up the Gators.”

While many longsuffering dog owners are at the vet ordering gallons of gabapentin for the Fourth of July, we in my house remain confounded by one of the greatest canine conundrums of all time.

You see, our five-pound black rescue Pomeranian, Rocket, barks if we place a cup on a table too aggressively. He barks at his own food, extracting each nugget with his paw and screaming as if the alarm has gone off to start The Purge.

He fears palm fronds, should one rustle. He fears puddles of water, clearly put there to drown him. He fears the tiny sounds that come from his own bottom.

Our nervous king is the sweetest, cuddliest guy, but he has a consumptive fear of loneliness and constant existential dread (relatable). He barks when left unattended for more than 12 seconds. Given the choice of being alone or being with any human at all, he would happily trot away with Javier Bardem’s character in “No Country For Old Men.” I remind him that the great philosophers said we must confront loneliness to access a higher truth, and he replies with a throaty Wookie noise that he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. In this political climate, who can blame him?

But he does not fear fireworks. Not even a little. He is bold and stoic in the face of bombs bursting in air and grand finales. Is this because he is named “Rocket?” Is that like being named Tony Montana and fearing gilded thrones?

During fireworks, this dog will sleep like a baby flopped on his back, lost in the dreamy splendor of la-la-land. If he could talk, he would say, “Silly. That is simply a low-explosive pyrotechnic performance. That’s just potassium chlorate and bismuth. There is nothing to fear, nothing except the gentle rattle of the ice maker.”

This year, Rocket would like to acknowledge his firework-fearing peers and review the rules for everyone except himself: Keep pets away from explosives. Make sure they’re wearing both their festive holiday neckties and ID tags, and check that their microchip data is up-to-date.

Best Friends Animal Society suggests bringing pets inside during fireworks and shutting them in a quiet room surrounded by toys and treats, which honestly sounds like a great idea for humans as well. Others suggest tight-fitting ThunderShirts, heavy blankets and white noise machines, and once again, where can I sign up for the remainder of the election cycle?

Speaking of, this holiday is prime time to remind each other to be civil, friendly and not obnoxious, leaving explosions to the professionals. Remember our pet neighbors, our local veterans and folks with post-traumatic stress. Remember those who are simply over noisy displays of grandeur, who would rather focus on hot dogs, roll on their backs and let their tongues hang out, waking July 5 to more metaphorical puddles clearly put there to swallow them whole. In America, it truly takes all kinds.

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