Die, morons, die!

There's nothing quite as annoying and frustrating as dealing with a freaked-out golden retriever, unless it's repressing the urge to track down and kill the morons who decided to shoot off two professional (or perhaps just high-caliber illegal...I'm not a connoisseur) fireworks from a small barge-like craft just off the waterfront in Elliot Bay.

I was sitting at my sewing machine, sewing a tricky seam on a costume-in-progress, when this incident occured. Doofus the Dog promptly tried to climb onto my lap. And at 85 pounds, give or take a couple of pounds, he is not exactly lap dog material.

I managed to keep him off my lap until I finished what I was doing, then hustled him downstairs to distract him with the last few minutes of "Lost," which I don't watch, then with "Alias," which I do. I also managed to keep him from jumping in the shower with me. I know that when he's stressed he likes to have his people in sight at all times, but sheesh.

My dread-drenched countdown to the Fourth of July has officially begun.