She's Very Happy To See You

Juniper, a dog, chews on a toy the color of her darker fur, while Barley, also a dog, chews on a different toy that matche her lighter fur. This is a photo from the very earliest days of Barley and Juniper getting to know one another. The baby blue harness is a tell that this photo was taken during the initial foster period, before we had even committed to keeping Barley indefinitely. This would have been around day four or five, at which point Barley wasn’t trying to play hard with Juniper all the time, and was instead increasingly comfortable merely sharing space with her. There was still a competitive streak, however: During the course of a 30-minute session of chewing on these toys, each dog took the toy from the other dog (resulting in a clan swap) three or four times, and it just so happens that the photo was taken while their fur matched the toys.

Barley, a dog, snoozes with her face wedged between the futon and a throw pillow. Barley’s blockhead is such that if she rests its weight on a gap in the softness, she will sink. This seems to suit her fine, though, since getting wedged bewteen soft things isn’t just cozy. It’s also shady!

Barley, a dog, sniffs at the base of a low wall made of concrete pavers and covered in moss. There’s an aesthetic to overgrow that speaks to my, because it is nearly impossible to fake. You can’t buy this sort of growth, it’s the sort of thing that only time can provide. Clearly, theres a balance (climbing vines can compromise brickwork, for example), but all told, I prefer the gentle dereliction of cultivated overgrowth to the antisceptic austerity of LEGO architecture.

Barley, a dog, sniffs at what I suspect to be a brunnera plant with heart-shaped leaves. I took this photo thinking nothing of it. “Oh, that’s a nice looking plant. Heart-shaped leaves? Sure, should be easy enough to identify online when I write this up later.” This just goes to show how un-gardeny a person I am. I was not prepared for the enormous diversity of options that come up when one searches for “heart-shaped leaves.” (Quite a bit of Valentine’s Day posting muddying the search results as well). So my educated guess (don’t trust me, I’ve done no studying of this topic) is that this is a brunnera varietal? Maybe? Let me know in the comments (I’ve not added comments to the website at the time of this writing).

Barley, a dog, peers up while lying beside a quartet of tins containing Grether’s Pastilles. The first time I needed to teach a continuous three-hour block several times per week, I was struggling not to lose my voice right out of the gate. A good friend, who had done both sales and Toastmasters in a previous life, gave me the tip: these glycerinated gummies are an absolute lifesaver if you are reaching your vocal cord limits. Not that these would do Barley much good. You don’t need a voice saver if you only bark a couple times a month.

Barley, a dog, is stopped, per the instructions of a stop sign placed very low to the ground. “So… how long until it changes to ‘GO’?”

Barley, a dog, sprawls on her back beneath an equally long and dopey Jacob Horse, of Drawfee fame. Look at these two cartoon characters. They hardly seem believable, and certainly aren’t true to life. How could real animals be so silly?

Juniper, a dog, makes a bit of a mess of the dog bed in front of the television as she tries to stomp it into a more comfortable configurations. Dogs pacing in a circle before lying down is often characterized as a kind of trope, an instinctive behavior that is presumed to be hard-wired. If you watch dogs do this under a variety of conditions, however, you’ll see that there’s a thoughtfulness at work. Here, Juniper is trying to pace out a circle to create comfy spot, but the dog bed is not cooperating, and it wouldn’t be out of line to give her the caption, “Uh, a little help here, please?”

Barley, a dog, gives a storm drain a sniff. Time was, Barley was extremely reluctant to stand on a grating with flowing water underneath it. Even very sturdy bridges gave her pause when the sights and sounds of a current were coming from beneath. Just this year, however, she has become interested in storm drains, and is eve willing to walk across them! I’ll need to see if the same holds for bridges.

Barley, a dog, looks up from the futon at the camera with wide, hopeful eyes. Even when Barley and I have been hanging out att day, following our normal routine, she still displays what seems like a sincere hopefulness whenever I stand and approach her. Even if it’s just to give her some belly rubs, she’s a real sponge for any positive regard she is given. And of course, sometimes my approach might mean something even more exciting. Like a snack. Or a walk!

Barley, a dog, examines a Lime scooter that has been unceremoniously dropped onto a flowerbed. It seems far preferable for folks to be able to have non-car options, but I can’t help but find Lime’s gig economy business model distasteful. The alliance with Uber isn’t great, but beyond that, these bright eye-catchers are unceremoniously dumped wherever. It’s hard not to see them as a kind of corporate e-waste sprinkled across the landscape.

Barley, a dog, lies of the futon beside a shelf of serpent plants, reaching the full height of the patio door. In a rare non-work accomplishment in recent months, I have finally expanded the flora in my apartment. There were some signs that my existing serpent plants needed to be repotted, and I went ahead and picked up a couple of small ones as well, just in case. Hopefully this will keep oxygen levels high, to more efficiently burn the midnight oil.

Barley, a dog, lies on an office carpet with a black rubber bone and a plush yeti. These two toys have become the office champions, each playing a distinct role. The bone is chiefly a way of directing social energy: Barley only chews on it when I meet with others in my office. The yeti, by contrast, just for playtime between Barley and myself when other visitors are in short supply. When she is alone, both are ignored, for the only sensible activity when alone is to sleep.

Juniper, a dog, looks up from the pillow where she is snoozing with one of her plushes and regards the camera wth suspicion. Juniper has a variety of spots she can retreat to when she decides that she has had enough of whatever shenanigans folks are getting up to. A popular option is the guest bed, which is mostly set up in “dog mode” when guests are not expected. At once relatively central in the house and relatively isolated from any high-energy happenings, it’s usually the best first spot to check if you’re wondering where Juniper has gotten to.

Barley, a dog, tried to get a chomp of some tall leafy blades of grass. Barley has always been grass-curious, but this spring has seen new levels grass chomping that mean my guard can never be down. I suspect certain species must have a slightly sweet dew that gives them a fetching aroma, because Barley’s orientation on approach is one of intent-to-chomp. For my part, I’d just as soon she not upset her stomach any more than necessary.

Barley, a dog, is briefly illuminated by headlights during a night-time walk. There generally isn’t too much call to take Barley on walks after dark, but every once in a while a busy schedule means she hasn’t had quite as much of an opportunity to stretch her legs as I’d like. As a very olfactory beast, she seems unperturbed by the darkness, and presses forward much more confidently than I do.

Barley, a dog, photographed up close as lies on her side atop her enormous dog bed. I’m very pleased with what a big success this new dog bed has been. As absurd and oversized as it is, it’s clear that Barley appreciates the opportunity it provides to really sprawl. She will still occasionally retreat to a darker venue when the room is brighter than she’d like, but I’d wager she’s now spending the vast majority of her downtime in the apartment resting and snoozing atop these gentle blue waves of fluffy softness.

Barley, a dog, walks past a series of short decorative bushes, each trimmed into an approximate rectangle, with very wide spacing between them. I’m always tickled by hedges that have been arranged in such a way that they can serve no purpose other than to be decorative. These, for example, are too short to provide privacy, and their comical spacing ensures they provide no meaningful barrier. If hedges are far enough apart that Barley can walk into your yard, they’re not keeping anything else out, either. Certainly, they’re not to my taste (and I spend enough of these posts complaining about yard aesthetics as it is), but maybe there’s an alternative explanation. Maybe, one day, a shady landscaper sold a homeowner on a scheme to have a hedge planted for just half the price.

Barley, a dog, leaps into the air to snatch a toy suspended above her. The camera’s focus has not had a chance to adjust to her sudden appearance in the frame. Barley was very intrigued by these rocks for whatever reason. It seemed to be more than a mere interest in a scent left by another passing dog, and I eventually decided to coax her away from the spot. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she had perhaps found the entrance to a mouse nest or somesuch, at which point no good was going to come of her fixating long enough to make trouble for any critters residing therein.