|(image from the blog From Val's Kitchen)|
Completely. Ignore. Fireworks.
The same dog who has been fleeing the bed and couch for the safety of the bathroom (upon even a hint of a teenager with a popper and/or during every thunderstorm) stood in the living room not far from all the front windows that were so kindly not muffling any of the 4th of July noises.
|Remember this gem from our Instagram feed?|
Now, I completely understand the mesmerizing effects of tacos. I am a very very big fan of tacos of all kinds (and right now I'm getting kind of mad that I no longer have tacos to eat), so I can kind of see how one might get lost in the gloriousness that they present to the world. But I surely did not think they could possess my dog. Think along the lines of Stains possessed.
Just like that but with more beef and cheese and crunchy goodness. Damn, I want tacos right now.
But I would be not a very cool chick if I didn't tell you the whole truth. Desmond may have been under the influence of more than just tacos. The 2mg of Xanax, plus 200mg of Trazodone, plus 30mg of Prozac probably can take some of the credit here.
I don't think I mentioned it, but Des was switched from 4mg daily of Xanax to 200mg daily of Trazodone (and that has been working for us better actually). We had leftover Xanax that the vet told us to hang on to for days we knew would be extra stressful; he said to give it to Des on top of his regular meds on those days. So, yesterday around 2:30pm, we tossed him one bar of Xanax (which is half the amount he was getting when he took it daily).
I thought this extra medication might make him super sleepy, but it really didn't at all. Found that odd. Apparently, though, it made him calm, cool, and collected. Well, that plus the presence of tacos. Let us not forget the tacos.
Overall, I don't really know what to make of this--and, frankly, I'm a little annoyed that I voted to stay in with my dog on my favorite holiday to make sure he was as comfortable as possible, and then he was all normal and crap. I mean, how rude are you, dog??
But what if tacos are the answer to all of my problems in life (which are 95% Desmond-based problems)? What if I can virtually eliminate Desmond's reactivity with Costco-sized boxes of frozen mini tacos? What if I can go to the damn movies and not return to destruction, all because I shoved a bunch of taco meat and cheese into a KONG? What if tacos are actually paving the path to finding world peace? I don't think it's that crazy of a possibility. Tacos are freakin delicious, y'all.
I may have to hit the supermarkets and drive-throughs to start testing out this theory with different brands and flavors. And if it's a fluke, at least I'll have a ton of tacos--all for myself.