Ringing In The New

At one time, I was one of those people.  You know who I mean...the sort of people who seem to never stop partying, always on the look out for a good time.  At least, I was that way in my head, where it was safe.  No one to point and laugh at your dancing if they can't see it, right?  Occasionally I would attend some party with a friend, get completely snockered in an effort to be social, and pass out way before midnight. Yes, I was way cool. 

Since I've married, my New Year's Eves have been pretty consistent.  Sandy the Wonder Dog, our  yellow lab, made sure of that.  Sandy's biggest nemesis, the bane of her existence, were fireworks.  She did not care if they were sparklers or one of those whizz-bang-pop types.  If it was a firework, she hated them.  As in barked her fool head off, no matter where she was or how late it was.  If we let her out in the back yard, Sandy would race around the entire yard, barking out her displeasure as if the world depended upon it.  She barked so much that she would be foaming at the mouth, panting, but she was determined enough in her job to eradicate all fireworks that we couldn't even get her to stop for water. 

Unfortunately for Sandy, our neighborhood goes nuts over fireworks.  In the days before the end of the year, it's not uncommon to see our normally very sedate neighbors hauling crate loads of the loudest, most festive fireworks they can find.   Our street is likely on some Homeland Security list because of the number of explosives purchased by these people.  So our New Year's Eves of the last decade or so were spent in the upstairs bathroom.  One of us would sit in the bathroom, running the whirlpool tub, and keep Sandy in there with us.  It worked--unless one of those MD-80s things went off,  the sound was muffled enough that Sandy didn't lose her mind. This went on every New Year's Eve and Fourth of July until Sandy passed away at the ripe old age of 13.

Now we have Maisy the Destructor, our new black Lab mix.  Maisy isn't afraid of fireworks, we found out. While people on our street were launching enough small missiles into the air that the local airbase scrambled jets, Maisy slept peacefully on the back of an armchair.  In fact, the only thing that bothered her the entire night was her archnemesis, the boxer who lives next door.  We were all grateful for the silence, even as we missed Sandy.  My husband and I watched Supernatural episodes until midnight,  sipping our champagne and smooching like an old married couple. 

Oh yeah, we are an old married couple.





5.) How did you bring in the New Year?