Juniper, a dog, lies in her crate, over which a knitted blanker is draped. She watches from the darkness intently. When Juniper is deep in her feelings, she likes to have little timeouts in her crate. Since there’s never occasion to close the door, and because of the blanket draped over it, it’s a dark, comfy zone she can count on. She’s begun to take breaks in there more often since it was repositioned in such a way that, from where she is lying in the photo, she has an unobstructed view of the television.

Barley, a dog, stands by a lamp post beneath a sign reading, “SLOW DOWN, OBSERVE & ENJOY”. Thanks, sign! We will! Advice to live by, honestly. I’ve already such such a great role model in Barley.

Barley, a dog, spots a shiny blue marble tucked among some stones. Walking Barley forces me to pay much more attention to my immediate surroundings than I would if I was walking alone. While you might think that could get a little tiresome (and I’ll admit that walking Barley isn’t precisely a relaxing exercise), I actually find that there’s something compelling about this state of extended vigilance. I notice a lot more of the tiny details that give the world texture this way, and find myself wondering what curious chain of events might have led to the world being arrayed just so. Even after what is now certainly thousands of hours of walking this dog, I’m still not bored, which I take to be a good sign.

Barley, a dog, sniffs about in a patch of barren soil, ringed with a concrete parking bumper. There’s something tragic about a barren rectangle of dirt in a parking lot. I figure the story is some version of “Something was here when the property was developed, it grew big enough for its roots to be a problem, so we dug it out and decided we’d rather do nothing with the spot that devote any landscaping effort to it whatsoever.” Perhaps Barley feels otherwise, seeing them instead as a collaborative canvas to which anyone can contribute!

Barley, a dog, sniffs along a verge from which bamboo is growing. Barley, a dog, continues walking past the camera. wind blows through bambooit whispers news to her nose that we cannot hear

Barley, a dog, ponders a sonic sculpture consisting of sheet metal but into bulbous shapes that hang within a red framework. I’m a big fan of this sculpture. As it was explained to me, the harmonic profile of a traditional, 3-dimensional tubular bell can be closely approximated by an appropriately-shaped flat sheet of metal. And sure enough, if you strike any one of these bits of sheet metal, it rings with a pleasantly sonorous note on a 12-tone scale (with the 13th note providing the octave). I always make sure to do so when I walk by, although Barley gives the impression of not being as big a fan of its musical potential as I am.

Barley, a dog, glances over her shoulder. Behind her, a bright green lawn extends that, upon closer inspection, consists mostly of moss. ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ…

Juniper, a dog, gazes contentedly up from her giant bed, in the company of her squirrel and her husky. We will never fully understand the intricate nuances of Juniper’s relationships with her beloved toys. Given her disposition, I’m inclined to interpret her approach less as hosting a tea party for her stuffies, and more as plotting courtly intrigues with them. It’s less a guest/host dynamic and more of a family affair.

Barley, a dog, sits contentedly surrounded by an array of toys lying in disarray, as though she stands along on a battlefield littered with her fallen foes. Barley has just about reached toy saturation at this point, such that my living room is a kind of chaotic plushie abattoir. Turns out, my having mastered various tricks for extended their useful lifetime has been enough to make the rate at which she received gifts from family a net growth model. Going forward, I may need to encourage folks to get her nice consumables a little more often, see if I can get us back to parity.

Barley, a dog, stands attentively, tail in motion, surveying the process of the dishes being prepared for the dishwasher. Once dinner with my parents has concluded, Barley has clear expectations about what will transpire next. Dishes will get done, and maybe, maybe, some additional morsels will fall within reach. And after that, well, after that come the Night Apples.

Barley, a dog, supermans on a futon, clearly zonked out. A plush sloth is draped over her back, giving off a similar vibe. Not only is Barley a champion of the Solo Nap, she is also adept at a more challenging event: the Synchronized Nap.

Barley, a dog, looks up at the camera. Behind her, a sign indulges in some questionable logo design. “My plumbing was a mess, things were real unreliable downstairs, but that all changed when I called SHARTS.”

Barley, a dog, stands and licks clean a large tub of Nancy’s yogurt. My parents have a yogurt chaser after dinner just about every night, and in so doing they go through their fair share of yogurt containers. Whenever I visit, I can count on them having one or two nearly-empty containers from the preceding week to give Barley so she can “feel included” during family dinner.

Barley, a dog, sniffs along the perimeter of a substantial treetop, now fallen to the snowy earth after bitter cold and strong winds. Invariably, trees in the area take some hits when the city gets walloped by some heavy-duty winter. Fortunately, where I live and work both seem to have adopted a “once bitten, twice shy” approach after getting hit hard in the last few years, and had arborists coming out and doing some preventative trimming before the New Year. This tree, unfortunately, was further afield and did not receive such attention.

Juniper, a dog, has a single paw before her as she gazes piercingly into the camera. When we first met Juniper and decided to rescue her, the thing that set her apart from the other young puppies in her litter was her intense, focused eye contact. Even at 14 weeks old, she was not locking eyes with her siblings, or with the other dogs from the shelter. She was interested in humans, she needed to know more about humans. To this day, she understands that the eyes are the most important part of a person to scrutinize, and if you meet her gaze you can almost feel her gears turning as she evaluates whatever it is that you’re up to.

Barley, a dog, snoozes on a futon with her face stuffed fully into a dark nook arising from two cushions and a salmon-colored plush toy. While Barley can sleep anywhere, she prefers somewhere dark when she wants to properly sleep and not merely doze. Sometimes, a blessed alignment occurs, and a place she happens to already be snoozing reveals itself to be a tiny island of dark in an otherwise lit room.

Barley, a dog, is depicted from the elbow down, standing on cracking, compacted snow. Her claws are splayed out a little. Once the powder has set and the cold fuses the top layer of snow into a crust, Barley’s locomotive style changes pretty dramatically. Rather than a stately high-steppin’ trot (of the sort she’d use amid autumn leaves), she favors a shoulders-low gremlin scrabbling (of the sort she’d use on loose gravel). This might just be more obvious than usual because the snow provides an unusual stark contrast to her dark nails, but I don’t recall an instance in which I was able to see clearly how much she was splaying her toes and really digging each of her nails into the ground for traction.

Barley, a dog, investigates a string of Xmas lights mostly just draped over some big rocks at the corner of a property. I’ll never not be amused by the combination of someone who feels sufficiently festive to decorate for some holiday or another and yet does so with the absolute minimum effort possible. Maybe make it a family affair, really divide the workload. Come on kids, lets decorate the Xmas rocks together! As a family! Remember, it’s not littering if you plug them in when you’re done!

Barley, a dog, sits amid an expanse of white powdery snow, lightly peppered with pine cones and tree needles. Traffic is hardly much of a concern during a snow storm, as the city, ever-ill-prepared, grinds to a halt for several days while what seems like a single plow makes its circuit around the major streets. Even so, walk Barley in the snow is a little nerve wracking when you lose any sign of where the curb lies. By this point, Barley understands intuitively (at least when I’m with her) that sidewalks are for walking and streets are to be crossed quickly, without lingering. My protective instincts are heightened when neither she nor I can tel where the street begins.

Barley, a dog, looks up from under a card table on which an abstract 70s-coded puzzle is in the process of being assembled. It’s probably safe to say that Barley would not have enjoyed this puzzle, had she any concept of its existence, given her limited ability to discriminate between hues. However, setting that hypothetical aside, I can report that she definitely did not appreciate it in practice either, because my parents and I would sit and stand around it, nearly still and mostly silent, in a manner that got her a little impatient. “Hey,” she would seem to be trying to say after a little while, “There are some perfectly good couches over there we could sit on together instead.”