During the month of July, I practiced being present and spent time listening to my surroundings. One morning I was sitting at my desk and realized that the dogs spend their days listening.

They hear that soft ‘click’, when I close my laptop and I think that’s a good thing for all of us. It means I’m stepping away from the screen and into the present moment to observe what needs my attention. They of course, think they do, so we step outside. If I step away from the laptop without closing the screen, they know there’s a good chance I’m going back to it, so they lay still, but there’s something about the click.

Each morning, when I sit at the little writing desk and they hear the click of my ballpoint pen, they know I’m going to be there for a bit, but that second click of the pen, followed by the soft thud of the notebook closing means they can have my attention.

I place the watering can in the kitchen sink and they know the sound the water makes while filling up that vessel. It’s the same sound every time, but this watering can means I’m preparing to walk out the front door and they’re not invited. I go refill the bird bath hanging from the arbor and water a few plants in pots, but sometimes Denver, the big, white, dog will purposefully lay in front of the front door, just to slow me down.

When the dogs see me staring at the computer screen, smiling, talking and laughing, they know I’m on a Zoom. The seriousness of the Zoom depends if I stay seated the entire time, or get up and walk around while still listening. They have learned if I stand up during a Zoom, there’s a pretty good chance I’ll let them outside unsupervised. It took them a long time to figure out why I’d take a shower and put on decent clothes, but not leave the house. They know what the word, ‘Zoom’ means. 😂

The hottest part of the day arrives somewhere between 2 and 4 central time and you can hear every sound then. Denver passes out on the tile floor and Winnie stretches out periodically in various places, but if I need a rest, that is the time to stretch out across my bed. I gaze out the window to watch a warm breeze ruffling the top of my neighbors trees. No birds are singing, or squirrels scampering across the tin roof of the house.

It’s completely silent except for some soft music playing, the A/C turning on, then off and the hum of the refrigerator. Winnie sees me stretched out across the foot of my bed and sits in the hallway, looking at me offering her biggest tail wag. I look at her and say, “You can come in”, which she does. She lays on the floor between the windows and the bed, but Winnie is alert and will leave to investigate the slightest noise.

They hear water from the sink hitting the metal bowl and are relieved to know that I noticed their water bowl was empty. For how long, I’m never sure. They see me clear the kitchen island while walking to and from the fridge in hopes of good smells for dinner. They’re perplexed when they see me eating with no mouthwatering smells from the kitchen. They sigh and know…”It’s that salad thing again.”

They get excited to hear, “It’s cheat night”. because that means I’ve had a long day which equals pizza delivery. Their only hope is that I don’t order that silly thin and crispy crust again.

Loud noises coming from the the laptop means I’m watching something entertaining, but they like commercials, so I’ll get up which means more chances to go outside before dark. Then, the tap of the laptop closing. The click, click of lamps being turned off as I stroll through the house. The water comes on in the bathroom as I brush my teeth and the microwave door opens to insert a lavender eye pillow to heat.

The deadbolt lock on the backdoor is clicked into place and they know that door won’t open while it’s dark. The microwave timer dings once, but then the microwave door opens again to fluff the eye pillow and heat for another 30 seconds while I put on my pajamas. They hear me sink onto the bed and start talking, thanking God for another day.

Click goes the bedside lamp and they know they won’t see me again for a very long time unless there’s a sonic boom. They patiently wait all night to hear my feet touch the floor and to see me step through the bedroom door while slipping my arms into the gauzy robe. The patter of my feet walking toward the backdoor and the deadbolt clicks to unlock. The door swings open for us to step outside and into a new day of listening to how we live.

In this recording you’ll hear the tapping of dog paws as they roam around. They haven’t really grasped the concept of ‘we’re taping’ equates to stillness.