Fourth of July

Okay, fine. I'll admit I pulled this photo off the Web...but only because at the fireworks show I took Lomax to, I thought I should keep both hands on him in lieu of one hand on him and one hand on the camera.

We spent Independence Day at a dear friend's annual party. The small-town ambience of El Segundo serves the holiday well; there's always a street fair in front of Recreation Park, the launch pad for the impressive fireworks display. People turn out in droves, hours early, to put down their blankets and chairs in the street and surrounding areas for optimal viewing. Fortunately, my friend and her husband live on the opposite side of the park, where there are no crowds. Who cares if the show is "backwards?" Thanks to some very sweet neighbors, we had our own private section -- prime real estate in a fenced yard, and a gently sloping hill on which to lie back and enjoy the spectacle above.

Not knowing how Lomax would react, I chose a spot nearest the exit and made sure I had a key to my friend's apartment. The first couple of booms surprised him a bit, but he didn't bolt -- it was more of a head-swivel in the style of "What the *&$# was that?"

But when I directed his attention to the sky and he caught the flashes of light that accompanied the booms, he seemed to make the connection. I just made sure I had one hand on the leash and the other on him, gently scratching his back. When he wasn't stretch-inching toward my friend's extended hand for some extra affection, he was calmly watching the skies along with the rest of us (and, surely, agreeing with my softly spoken assessments that he was a very good boy indeed). I wish I could have captured for you the picture of his sweet little head, nose pointed heavenward in silhouette against the blooming night sky.

As it turns out, the dog who leaves the room when someone turns on the stove (or the grill, or the toaster oven) has no problem whatsoever with actual explosives. Who knew?