Bang!!

Once again Independence Day has rolled around, and in this neck of the woods that means crazy people with explosive devices. When I was a kid, one of my friends had only one hand because he thought it would be fun to hold on to some large industrial strength fireworks, and light them with his other hand. I always thought he was kind of stupid for doing it, but I never actually told him so. Here in the South, having one extremity missing isn't considered a sign that you've done something stupid, just that you are now a likely candidate for a job at the carnival.

This is the second Fourth of July since Molly, my dog, died. She used to be terrified at all the explosions, and could hear a ladyfinger pop a mile away. She would spend almost an entire week hiding by my bed, quivering in fear. Not so, Mr. Chandler. He is not phased by anything, not fireworks, thunder, or large trucks. I can take him out and all hell can be breaking loose, all he cares about is taking a pee, and smelling somebody else's. There is one thing that he has yet to figure out, the box fan that I use in my bedroom scares him. For some reason he thinks it is going to get him, and he steers clear of it. It's the one tool I can use to keep him in line. Preventing him from coming into a room is easy, I just have to put the fan in the door. To get him to move out of a room, all I have to do is bring the fan around. It works really well. lately I've been experimenting with various things on Mark to achieve the same effect. So far the only thing that I do to keep him out of a room, is to sit and pay the bills. It's like magic.