Unidentified noise causes me concern

Flossie is extremely sensitive to certain noises so I’ve spent a lot of time working on this with her so she feels more relaxed.

She’s absolutely fine with everyday sounds in the house, like the washing machine, the TV or the vacuum cleaner, but she’s hyper-vigilant about unexpected noises coming from outside. 

Anyone ringing my doorbell would be forgiven for thinking they’d caused a major crisis, from the hysterical barks produced by Flossie. It is a little embarrassing, but she does stop, eventually, and I don’t think it’s a bad thing that she sounds her alarm when someone approaches the house.

Fireworks are a different matter. She is terrified, and I have an entire protocol of actions I have to take to help us get through those November evenings.

However, the other day, there was an unusual noise that was puzzling me, rather than Flossie. It seemed to be coming from outside, although Flossie, who was lolling on the sofa, didn’t appear to notice it. That was strange, in itself.

At first, I thought it might be my neighbour, talking to someone in her front garden. Not that that’s out of the ordinary. But it sounded almost like a muffled cry. 

After a minute or so, when I could still hear this unidentified noise, I thought I ought to investigate. Maybe my neighbour had fallen and was lying prostrate on the path, only able to emit weak, plaintive cries. My brain had gone into full catastrophising mode.

I peered out of the window and surveyed our adjacent front gardens. 

There was nobody out there.

I turned down the sound on the TV thinking maybe it was some noise in the background. 

It wasn’t. 

The sound continued. A gentle kind of wheeze, ebbing and flowing at regular intervals.

And then I realised.

It was Flossie. 

She was right next to me, snoring gently, with her chin resting on a cushion, totally at peace with the world.

As published in the Bath Chronicle, 22 January 2026