Going Where I Can't Follow

Barley, a dog on a leash, chased her fancy under some overhanging branches that I absolutely won’t fit under if I follow her.

Barley has become reasonably good at staying on the same side of any tall poles as me. I don’t think she really understands why, but both the sudden jerk on the leash and my scolding attention have done a pretty good job of teaching her that, for whatever reason, she should stay close to me when we walk past tall thin objects. She has far less of an intuition when it comes to low0hanging things (or at least, low from my point of view), so from time to time, she’ll get a full head of steam about some scent or another, and will try to bodily grad my entire self into a foliage I will not be able to pass through.