However, twice a year -- the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve -- reduced her to a furry ball of anxiety. Pacing, circling our feet, whimpering and even drooling in shear panic anticipating the pounding of the next bit of excitement for our neighbor. It was not exciting for her ... not for a moment.
The upside of this little ditty is that Katie no longer has to suffer through the trauma of the entrance of another new year. Rest in peace, Katie, rest in peace.