Dogs and Dust Mops

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Welcome to bedtime stories for everyone,

in which

nothing much happens.

You feel good,

and then

you fall asleep.

I'm Catherine Nikolai.

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Now,

I'm about to tell you a bedtime story.

It's simple and not much happens in it.

And that is the idea.

The story is a soft place to rest your mind.

A simple and pleasant way to occupy it so that it doesn't wander away and keep you up.

All you need to do is listen in a relaxed way.

Just follow along with the sound of my voice

and the simple details of the story.

And soon,

very soon,

you'll be deeply asleep.

I'll tell the story twice,

and I'll go a little slower the second time through.

If you wake in the middle of the night,

You could listen again

or just

think your way back through

any part of the story that you can remember.

We're training your brain to settle and rest.

And the more you do this,

the better your sleep will get.

Our story tonight is called Dogs and Dust Mops.

And it's a story about some spring cleaning on a warm afternoon.

It's also about an orange kitty in the window,

the sound of the vacuum running upstairs,

fresh sheets, scrabbling paws on the deck,

and the way

your heart swells when you wrap your arms around someone you love.

So turn off your light,

snuggle your body down into your sheets, and get as comfortable as you can.

Take a moment to just

feel how good it is

to be in bed,

to be

about to sleep.

Let's take a deep breath in through the nose

and out through the mouth.

Nice.

Let's do that again.

Breathe in.

And out.

Good.

Dogs and dust mops.

We were doing a bit of spring cleaning.

We had all the windows open

with fresh air moving through the house

and the sound of lawnmowers and talking neighbors

echoing from a few doors down.

Marmalade,

my regal orange cat,

was wedged into one of the open windows,

her round body pressed against the screen,

and her silky fur sticking through the mesh.

Her green eyes were closed,

and her head swayed a bit on her neck,

not dozing, but catching scents on the wind.

Her whiskers twitched when the breeze blew.

And I knew if I lay a hand on her back,

she would start to purr

almost instantly.

She was an indoor cat

who,

every year,

had a few carefully chaperoned visits into the back garden,

a few bike rides buckled into her cat trailer,

and a few impromptu walks to the mailbox tucked into my arms

it suited her

I'd found her out in the snow a few years back

just a kitten leaving tiny paw prints in the flakes

And I'd wondered when she'd first stepped into my house

if it would be difficult to keep her in

if she'd want out again

if she were

some kind of rambling rolling stone

who wouldn't want to settle down

but those fears were quickly allayed

As soon as she'd discovered the delights of a crackling fire

and ear rubs on the sofa.

She'd been happy to leave the outside, outside.

Still,

in the spring,

when we open everything up,

she loves to get close.

A squirrel dashed across the yard,

and her eyes sprang open, sensing him.

Her lazy, docile attitude suddenly shifted.

She sat up,

pressed her nose to the screen,

watching as the squirrel teased her by running closer, flapping his fluffy tail,

and generally acting unbothered.

If this were a cartoon,

he would have pulled out an emery board and begun filing his nails.

Marmie began chattering and clicking at him.

An empty threat, for sure,

but one she felt compelled to issue.

I'd been running the dust mop

along the floorboards, watching this drama unfold,

and rolled my eyes as I fished a brown dust bunny from far back under the sofa.

If it were a little bigger, I might have expected it to start barking and jumping.

It was clearly made of crumb fur.

Our scruffy, small pooch,

who had more energy than the rest of us put together,

was shedding in the warm weather.

It reminded me to make an appointment with the groomer

and as he came around the corner, racing through my dust pile,

I told him so.

Haircut next week, mister Crumbles, I said.

He didn't seem to care or notice.

Instead he jumped his front paws up beside marmalade

and began barking at the squirrel.

I liked watching their backs

shoulder to shoulder

as they shared this moment of sibling excitement.

For a while it had just been Marmalade and me,

and she was a mamma's girl.

I wasn't sure how she would do with a little brother,

but I shouldn't have worried.

While she occasionally feigned being too cool for dogs,

the truth was that

she adored him.

Not in the same way that he adored her.

He came with wild love,

the bull you overtype.

She came with gentle love.

The lick your face at the end of the day type.

He was

a bit her baby when she watched over him,

reassured him when the thunder crashed,

meowed at him when he got late night zoomies,

told told him to go to sleep.

Upstairs,

I heard the click of greyhound toenails on the floors

and I chuckled, imagining what was happening.

I was on floor duty downstairs.

And their dad was on bedroom duty upstairs.

And I was pretty sure he'd just gotten to changing the sheets.

Bird, our rescued hound,

the sleepiest boy

you've ever met,

had just been evicted from the bed.

I was still laughing under my breath as I went through the hall to the foot of the stairs and called out to him

Birdie,

did dad make you get up

come on down here

and you can sleep on the porch.

It's sunny.

A pointed gray face emerged at the top step.

Sweet Birdie's deep black eyes blinked at me.

He shuffled down the stairs

and pressed his body against my leg.

Bird is probably the gentlest of all of us,

humans included.

He was calm

and thoughtful,

Stood back while Crumb tore his toys to bits

or Marmee strutted through the kitchen.

I leaned down and held him.

His soft body wrapped in my arms.

I could feel his heart beating

and the light touch of his breath on my shoulder.

I love my family so much.

Each of these souls

so much.

It sometimes brought tears to my eyes.

I wiped them away,

reminding myself that...

While there was nothing wrong with the tenderness it had brought up.

They were here with me now.

They weren't a memory.

I should enjoy them now.

I think Bird understood how I felt.

He stood very still,

letting me take some deep breaths.

When I stood up,

I patted him on the back and led him out to the porch.

At the sound of the door opening,

the squirrel, who was still teasing Marm and Crumb in the window,

finally decided he'd probably pushed his luck as far as it could safely go

and ran a few feet up the nearest tree.

Bird paid no mind to him,

just lumbered down the steps to find a patch of sunlight

to stretch out in.

Crumb came hurtling out of the house behind us,

and I could see by the look in his eyes that he really thought

he had a chance of catching up with his little harasser.

Oh bless, I mumbled as I carried the dust mop over to the compost pile

near the fence

and started shaking it out.

Dog hair

and specks of dust flew out

and caught in the sun

and drifted away on a breeze.

Bird's eyes were already shut,

his long legs stretched out in the new grass.

Crumb

still barked around the base of the tree,

his little limbs bouncing him up and down,

and Marmalade was

once again stretched out on her sill,

tufts of orange fur showing through the weave of the screen.

I heard the vacuum click on upstairs

and smiled as I headed back in

to finish my chores.

Dogs and dust mops.

We were doing a bit of spring cleaning.

We had all the windows open

with fresh air blowing through the house

and the sound of lawnmowers

and talking neighbors

echoing from a few doors down.

Marmalade

My regal orange cat

was wedged into one of the open windows,

her round body pressed against the screen,

and her silky fur

sticking through the mesh.

Her green eyes were closed,

and her head swayed a bit on her neck,

not dozing,

but catching scents

on the wind.

Her whiskers twitched

when the breeze blew her way.

And I knew

if I lay a hand on her back,

she would start to purr

almost instantly.

She was an indoor cat

who,

every year,

had a few carefully chaperoned visits

into the back garden,

a few bike rides

buckled into her cat trailer,

and a few

impromptu walks to the mail box tucked into my arms.

I'd suited her.

I'd found her her out in the snow

a few years back,

just a kitten,

leaving tiny paw prints in the flakes.

And I'd wondered

when she first stepped into my house

if it would be difficult to keep her in,

if she'd want out again,

If she were

some kind of rambling rolling stone

Who wouldn't want to settle down

But those fears were quickly allayed

As soon as she discovered the delights of a crackling fire

and ear rubs on the sofa

She was happy to leave the outside

outside.

Still,

in the spring,

when we open everything up,

she loves to get close.

A squirrel dashed across the yard,

and her eyes sprang open,

sensing him.

Her lazy, docile attitude suddenly switched.

She sat up

and pressed her nose to the screen,

watching as the squirrel teased her by running closer,

flapping his fluffy tail,

and generally acting

unbothered.

If this were a cartoon,

he would have pulled out an Emery board

and begun filing his nails.

Marmie

began chattering

and clicking at him.

An empty threat for sure

but one she felt compelled to issue

I'd been running the dust mop along the floorboards

watching this drama unfold

and rolled my eyes

as I fished a brown dust bunny from far back under the sofa

if it were a little bigger,

I might have expected it

to start barking and jumping.

It was clearly made of crumb fur.

Our scruffy, small pooch,

who had more energy than the rest of us put together,

was shedding in the warm weather.

It reminded me to make an appointment with the groomer.

And as he came around the corner,

racing through my dust pile,

I told him so.

Haircut next week, Mr.

Crumbles, I said.

He didn't seem to care or notice.

Instead, he jumped his front paws up beside Marmalade

and began barking at the squirrel.

I liked watching their backs

shoulder to shoulder

as they shared this moment of sibling excitement.

For a while it had just been Marmalade and me,

and she

was a mama's girl.

I wasn't sure how she would do with a little brother,

but I shouldn't have worried.

While she occasionally feigned being too cool for dogs,

the truth was that she adored him.

Not in the same way that he adored her.

He came with wild love,

the bowl you overtype.

She came with gentle love,

the lick your face at the end of the day type.

He was

a bit

her baby,

and she watched over him,

reassured him

when thunder crashed,

meowed at him when he got late-night zoomies,

telling him to go to sleep.

Upstairs

I heard the click of greyhound toenails on the floor.

I chuckled,

imagining

what was happening.

I was on floor duty downstairs,

and their dad was on bedroom duty upstairs.

And I was pretty sure

that he'd just gotten to changing the sheets,

meaning bird,

our rescued hound,

and the sleepiest boy you've ever met

had just been evicted from the bed.

I was still laughing under my breath

as I went through the hall

to the foot of the stairs

and called to him

Birdie,

did Dad make you get up

Come on down here

and you can sleep on the porch.

It's sunny

A pointed blue-gray face

emerged at the top step

Sweet Birdie's deep black eyes blinked at me.

He shuffled down the stairs and pressed his body against my leg.

Bird is probably

the gentlest

of all of us,

humans included.

He was calm and thoughtful

stood back while Crum tore his toys to bits

or Marmee strutted through the kitchen.

I leaned down

and held him.

His soft body

wrapped in my arms.

could feel his heart beating

and the light touch of his breath on my shoulder.

I love my family

so much,

each of these souls

so much.

It sometimes brought tears to my eyes,

and I wiped them away,

reminding myself that

while there was nothing wrong with the tenderness

it brought up,

they were here with me now.

They weren't a memory.

I should enjoy them now.

I think Bird

understood how I felt.

He stood very still,

letting me take some deep breaths.

When I stood up tall,

I patted him on the back

and led him to the porch.

As I opened the door,

the squirrel, who was still teasing marm and crumb in the window,

finally decided

he'd pushed his luck as far as it could safely go

and ran a few feet up the nearest tree.

Bird paid no mind to him,

just lumbered down the steps to find a patch of sunlight

to stretch out in.

Crumb came hurtling out of the house behind us,

and I could see

by the look in his eyes

that he really thought he had a chance

of catching up with his little harasser.

Oh, bless,

I mumbled as I carried the dust mop

over to the compost pile

and started shaking it out.

Dog hair

and specks of dust flew out

and caught in the sun

and drifted away on a breeze.

Bird's eyes were already shut,

his long legs

stretched out in the new grass.

Crumb still barked

around the base of the tree,

his little limbs bouncing him up and down.

And Marmalade was once again

stretched out on her sill,

tufts of her orange fur

showing through the weave of the screen.

I heard the vacuum click on upstairs,

and I smiled

as I headed back in

To finish my chores

Sweet dreams