Life On A Pedestal

Barley, a dog, stands somewhat elevated atop the end of a garden wall, looking at the world beyond as she gives her snoot a big lick.

People, as a rule, are nice to dogs and are nice about dogs when speaking to their owners. Barley receives a steady stream of praise over the course of her many human interactions in a given week, and a part of me always reacts to this by thinking, “I bet you say that to/about all the dogs.” Even so, and even given my considerable bias, I can’t help but feel that Barley is an exemplary mutt, canine beyond expectation, a real dog’s dog. In this, I’m exceptionally lucky that, in most of the ways that matter, the exceptions to this characterization are eccentricities that make Barley easier to take to work than most dogs. So, another part of me always thinks, “Yeah! This is a very good dog!”