It’s New Years Eve. Sporadic echoes of (illegal) fireworks penetrate this old house one or twice an hour since early evening. With Comet sleeping, the loudest sound I cannot block out is Dexter’s panting. His angst is balanced by Comet’s calm. Every year, on the Fourth of July and New Years Eve, the same noises and the same response. It’ll probably be over by 2 AM. We’ll weather it again, Comet, my wife and I – and Dexter, too.
You cannot value calm unless you have anxiety, right? Yin and Yang coexist unsteadily.
Happy New Year.