Thing Number Nineteen | Listen

I listen  |  for a rustle in the garage and the swish of the doggie door.

I listen  |  for the click-click of toenails on the floors.

I listen  |  for the panting breath at my feet.

I listen  |  for the trumpeting bark that sounds so intimidating and means so little from a dog whose best weapon is a slimy tongue.

I listen  |  for the clink-clink of a dog license against a nametag.

I listen  |  for the thump-thump of a tail beating against the coffee table.

I listen  |  for the rush of feet and happy slobber of a dog who’s glad I am home.

I listen  |  for the click-swish-click of the baby gate that separates the Beasley side of the house from the non-Beasley side of the house.

I listen  |  for the greedy guzzling and sloppy drinking at the food and water bowls.

I listen  |  for the slurping and scratching sounds of grooming.

I listen  |  for the snap of a leash.

I listen  |  to the other dogs barking in the neighborhood and my heart listens for mine to join in before my head reminds me that he’s gone.

It’s been over a year since we lost Mr. Beasley and I still haven’t stopped listening for him. I wonder if I ever will.