It’s the firework end of the year and this is possibly the worst season for living with dogs.

I do not begin to doubt the miraculous workings of the plug-in calm-down magical joo-joo. However, the plug-it-in and calm-them-down devices need a couple of weeks in the socket before any effect can be seen in the dog. We have four dogs, at the time of writing, although Aimée is quite keen to adopt another in the Spring.

In any case, I suspect we’d need:

a) a great deal of organisation to recognise when the fireworks might begin and then count back a couple of weeks to be certain of the dog’s olfactory-triggered indifference, and

b) probably more than one plug-in, and a degree in mathematics to be certain that we had enough plug-ins per dog by, I’d guess, weight? A bigger dog might need a greater dose from the plug-in, I don’t know, I’m not a scientist.

The fact of the matter is this: fireworks are not restricted to the space between Halloween and New Year’s Eve.

Plenty of people turned forty or fifty in the summer, and required explosions to announce their impending decrepitude to the village. (No, I’m not really that mean, but unexpected bangs come as a shock at my age, and result in a hip in my face from the startled labrador, or a miniature dachshund launching herself at me to a chorus of barks and whimpers).

And so, Aimée bought a book. Aimée who scared me into thinking quite dark and dismal thoughts with the phrase “I don’t really like reading,” when I was about a week and a half into this blog.

I was stunned.

However, Aimée bought a book on aromatherapeutic remedies to various canine injuries and illnesses.

Now, I’ll confess I don’t really go in for alternative therapies. I see no harm in them, however I like the idea of medication I can’t pronounce – if it’s in Latin, I know the condition is serious and is being treated as such. I don’t say that alternative medicine is airy-fairy mumbo-jumbo, but I don’t necessarily believe it should be used in isolation from standard professional medication, as prescribed by a qualified person.

When the book says that bergamot oil can be burnt as treatment for a heart murmur, I might think ‘the hell with that’. Then again, every bathroom product is made from lavender and there’s no arguing with its ability to calm and quiet the mind. So, from my perspective, the oils are not for sickness but for mood.

As it goes, having just barely made it through the summer and everyone’s birthdays and celebratory, borderline masturbatory bangs, we forgot about all the weekends between Halloween and January, when the sky lights up just because it’s Saturday.

Too late to buy the plug-in stuff, Aimée consulted her manual and burnt some ylang ylang. Not a peep out of them all night. It’s done nothing for my general cynicism but I may have to concede, there’s more to the mumbo-jumbo than I first thought.

And at my age, that ain’t half bad.

(I’m having my fireworks in four and a half years. Just so you know. Pencil it in. There will be noise.)