New Year’s Eve again. I didn’t go out.

I haven’t, not since I’ve had dogs.

Fireworks and dogs just don’t mix very well.

My sweet Cai, who crossed the bridge last year, really struggled with them. Not only the explosions, but the long build-up beforehand … that swishing, warning sound that tells you something loud is coming, without saying exactly when.

The two dogs I have now cope better. Still, I wouldn’t want to leave them alone when the sky starts lighting up. Some of the fireworks go off much closer than I’m comfortable with, and once a nervous system is on high alert, reassurance doesn’t really land anymore.

We were lucky this year. The neighbours ran out of steam after about half an hour. Things settled quickly.

I’ve thought for a long time that fireworks shouldn’t be freely available. I like how Sydney does it - regular people can’t buy them, but there’s one beautiful, shared show over the harbour that anyone can enjoy if they want to.

What I appreciate about that approach isn’t the rule itself. It’s the creativity behind it.

Because it’s not really about forbidding something. It’s about looking at the situation differently and asking: How can people still have what they want, without overwhelming others in the process?

Dogs teach us this all the time.

When fear shows up, force rarely helps. Tightening control doesn’t calm a nervous system. But changing the environment? Creating safety? That’s where things start to shift.

I find myself thinking this way more and more. About dogs. About people. About how often we reach for restriction when a little imagination would go much further.

Maybe the kindest solutions aren’t about taking something away. Maybe they’re about re-designing how we share space - and sound - so more of us can feel okay inside our bodies.