the fourth of july celebration started early last week.

although highly illegal, my neighborhood prides itself on the loudest, most shrieking, south of the border, let’s go to the emergency room fireworks.

year after year i painstakingly explain to priscilla the harmlessness in the booms, pops, and squeals of the various piccolo petes and crackers of fire, but the girl can’t help herself.

one launch of a blackmatch bengal fire and she’s under my shirt, in my bra {which in itself is the size of a teacup,} burrowing her flaxen-haired body into my sternum for a place to hide.

sunday night i found the poor, unglued baby wedged behind a toilet chewing on her tail and catching up hunkiest’s latest sport’s illustrated.

priscilla, i feel your anguish. let me, at least, find you an IN-STYLE.


well yesterday i decided enough was enough. i phoned my dealer our vet, and got my girl some tranquilizers. 

talk about where have you been all of my life? priscilla popped one pill and it was peaceful, easy, feeling through all four of her paws.

that girl was feeling no pain, no anxiety, no gravity, no use of her tongue or limbs. 

she threw on some pink floyd, flipped on my lava lamp, and drew rainbows with that half-eaten tail.

the neighborhood fireworks were especially loud and black market last night.

but i’m pretty sure i heard priscilla giggle and watched her bob that head side to side as our house shook from the blasts. 


after an all-nighter of checking for an hourly pulse, breath, and pupil dilation, my girl seems unaffected by her evening in andy warhol’s loft.

myself? i’m a little sleepy. i’m thinking of changing general practitioners…..i have a call into my vet to see if he’s taking new patients. i really like his program.

wishing you a tranquil tuesday m’loves…..