The 4th of July is a great holiday, except for my dog.

Please, quit popping your firecrackers. Silence the Roman candles. Don’t unbundle the bottle rockets. Put out the punks.

I know that this my sound un-American, but I am counting down until the 4th of July … is over.

As a kid, I was one of you. I popped firecrackers until I was sick. I watched bottle rockets fly and narrowly miss rooftops. But, hey, I lived in a small town where it was legal to pop fireworks within the city limits. That’s not the case in Pratt. That doesn’t stop anyone, though. In fact, I would estimate that fireworks are currently being exploded somewhere within the city limits at least 10 hours of the day. 

You see, my house can’t stand anymore remodeling. The new curtain that my wife just sewed together to replace a previously destroyed curtain she made: pulled down and chewed up sometime today during someone’s fireworks fusillade. The gardening bag full of tools: ripped to shreds and covered in blood. The back door: still holding despite repeated yanking on the padlock holding it shut. It’s just another day in the Case home during this wonderful holiday.

So, please, give my dog and others across town a break. If you must ignite your 4th of July inventory, head somewhere else, like to the family farm or another town. And, please don’t set any fields on fire in the process or end up in the hospital yourself.

Is it over yet?