Fireworks
When I was around the age 3 to 10, I hated fireworks. Hate being I would run and scream when someone set them off. I don't really know why but they always bothered me. I think it was the noise light that scard me. I thought the world was going to end every fourth of July. I think I thought that because the stupid neighbor boy told me that. I was always worried when the fireworks went off that something would catch on fire or that someone would die. They definetly intimated me. Bacically all dogs hate fireworks, so I would curl up with my huge golden retriever and we would cry together every fourth of July.
Now that I've gotten older I know that fireworks will not kill anyone or me when used with caution. I still hate the noise though. Except for that crackily one! On New Years and Independence Day I find myself sort of enjoying the foreworks. As long as they don't touch me, their harmless. Fireworks and I have a history like Scout and Boo Radley's.
Niccccccccccce!
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