I don't know what the deal is in Vancouver with Hallowe'en and fireworks except that I do and it's that for Hallowe'en, a lot of dipshits set off fireworks. It usually starts the weekend before Hallowe'en, because that's when all the parties are and then it gets RILL serious on actual Hallowe'en.
My BFF Padu is in town doing a show and I asked him on Monday if he'd heard the fireworks over the weekend near where he's staying downtown and he goes "Oh, is that what that was? I thought it was gunfire." HAHAHAHAHA oh, Padu, we don't live in SURREY, c'mon now.
Fortunately, Effie is one of approximately two dogs in the world who are completely unphased by fireworks. Try to walk her by a flappy tarp on a flatbed truck and she'll loose her shit but fireworks - nada.
So Thursday night, when neighbourhood fuckos were cracking off their whizzbangs, Effie was far more chill than Katr and I, who were ready go outside in our "lesbians in pyjamas" costumes and pound someone. Things quieted down a bit after midnight but that's when THE WHINING began.
No one does a desperate whine-fest in the middle of the night better than Effie. It's insistent. It's high pitched. It sounds like her death - or yours - is imminent.
When Effie whines like that in the middle of the night, it means one of two things:
- "Human, take me out, I must ass-hose but only after you walk me around for twenty minutes."
- "Human, take me out, but for no particular reason, maybe I heard something, you don't know."
I was deeply unthrilled to be hauled out of bed at 2AM but in case it was #1 (aka #2), I didn't want to risk it. So I snapped her collar on and we headed out into the cold, foggy night.
Spoiler alert: she did not have to ass-hose. But we did get to see some firework fuckery up close, when a guy walked by us, smoking a cigarette and then, about 10 feet past us, set off some kind of incendiary device; just casually, like "Here's some fire!" WTF?? Effie, predictably, didn't react at all but I almost whizzed in my lesbian pyjamas.
After about twenty minutes of wandering around and dodging tiny bombs, I made the command decision to return home. The dog then wheedled her way into bed with us and spent the rest of the quietly passive-aggressively pushing both of us off so that she could REALLLLLLY stretch out.
Anyway, Effie, we love you and also you're THE WORST. Good dog.
