Peace, Even When It’s Loud

The bangs started outside. Pops, cracks, flashes. Elsie bounced, barking at every one. Mooby rolled his eyes and stalked off. And me? I watched Russ.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t fuss, didn’t cuddle, didn’t rush to the window. He just sat. Still. Calm. If he wasn’t worried, then I didn’t need to be either.

We’d practised this before. Russ had played the sounds low and gentle, letting me learn they meant nothing at all. By the time the real fireworks came, I already trusted him.

A brindle boxer dog (Charlie) rests peacefully on a cozy cushion, embraced by the soft interplay of light and shadow in a tranquil room setting. He is ignoring the loud fireworks going off outside.

So I lay down. Closed my eyes. And peace found me, even when it was loud.

That’s the gift of calm: when you show us there’s nothing to fear, we believe you.

Charlie