As the July 4 fireworks intensified, Iona the German shepherd trotted from one window to another — an elevated version of what her mom calls (and I paraphrase) guard dog stuff.

By the time night fell, a calming chew had taken the edge off, but she was still distressed by the pops, bangs and booms she could hear and feel but not see. How was she supposed to respond to this threat with insufficient data?

I told Iona, as I’ve been telling animals for decades, that it’s just human noise. It’s rattling, to be sure, but manageable. Even though she couldn’t see the source of the noise, she was safe at home and we would ride it out together.

My partner, our honorary daughter, Iona and I settled in to watch a movie. Eventually, Iona curled up on the sofa (of course she’s allowed) with her mom, and a bit later she shifted around and stretched out with her head in my lap. I told her she was very brave even if she didn’t feel brave.

On the same night, a client of mine sat on the pasture fence as horses gathered around her. The humans on the nearest street seemed to have an endless supply of fireworks, and she stayed with the herd until the worst was over.

We are all confronted with “noise” that scares, confuses or angers us. We can’t control it, but we can manage its impact. One way is by acknowledging it and being present.

Even when we perceive the sound differently (say, like a dog and a human), we can sit quietly together and see if something better surfaces. Even if it’s just a kind word or an ear scratch.