I am a brave boy, but I am also very sensitive. I stay close to my people because I care about them, and I always know what they are feeling. When they are sick, sad, or happy, I feel it too. Sometimes I even pick up on things before they do. I have always been like that.
But after my shakes started and I began taking my medicine, things changed. Mom and Dad noticed it, and honestly, I did too. Noises suddenly became way too intense. Noises are scary.
I have big ears, and they work a little too well. I hear everything. When a loud noise happens, I move fast. I find the nearest small space, tuck my whole body into it, and wait for the shelling to begin. Mom talks about my nervous system and all sorts of science stuff, but from where I stand, the truth is simple: noises are SCARY.
Thunderstorms and fireworks are the worst of all. When they start, I really have only two choices:
• Find the smallest spot I can squeeze myself into, or
• Climb up my dad to higher ground where things feel safer.
We do not go anywhere without my full supply of pills and potions that Mom brings to help me feel sleepy and groovy when the world gets too loud. She even said she buys them in bulk now. I am not sure what that means, but it sounds serious.
Then my people decided to take me to “Me he ho”, a place where fireworks are basically a national pastime. People there set them off to celebrate everything. There were fireworks nearly every day while we lived there. Sometimes I wonder who approved these humans to be responsible for a Shepherd like me. They might need a tune up.
I survived the whole situation and even met a very good doctor named Dr. AleHandro. He tried to help me stop taking my pills for a while, but that did not work. That part is another Mom story. All I know is that noises are scary, and when a truck goes by, a door slams, or the washing machine decides to wake up, I will still be diving for cover like any smart, brave boy would.
If you need me, I will be under the table until further notice. Karl, Out!
