Barley, a dog, trots a fast clip, causing her ears to flap and giving the impression of having tiny wings extended from her head. Barley’s ears are delightfully soft and floppy, but my eyes don’t process movement fast enough to fully appreciate what they get up to when Barley goes hard. It is only though the magic of modern photography that I can pause and ponder this vision of Barley with wings extended, ready for takeoff.

Barley, a dog, wears a visibility sweater in snowy terrain, pulling the leash hard to advance. Barley, a dog, pulls the photographer forward. Barley, a dog, will continue to pull until temperatures improve. With unpleasantly cold temperatures last week, I figured it might warm my soul to ponder an even colder time from about a month ago. Here, we see Barley in full sled dog mode. When it’s wintry-cold out, her progress in any given direction is headstrong, as if working harder than usual just to keep her muscles warm.

Juniper, a dog, sits expectantly with her monkey in front of a television on which a documentary is playing. Juniper loves watching television, but it often gets her wound up. I’ve documented her various attempts to scare away Screen Beasts, but often it’s just a matter of things on screen being too high energy and her needing to burn that off somehow. Here, some manner of “crowd goes wild” mirth got her all wound up, so she decided to frolic a bit with her monkey (to the audible delight of those present). After a bit of hoppy, chompy nonsense, she settled back into watching the show again.

Barley, a dog, is a dark silhouette in the golden glow of a living room window. Having given it some thought, I don’t think Barley has a concept of “a house” as a discrete object. Her sense of objects appears to be limited to the practical scale of daily life: doors, sofas, windows, treats. I bring this up because this picture inspired me to ask myself the question, “Which side of this house would Barley consider the front?” And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably a malformed question - her understanding of it wouldn’t make it past “this house.” What she certainly knows, as her enthusiastic vigilance is here revealing, is which direction to expect us from on our return.

Barley, a dog, glances up a hill through fairly thick fog on an otherwise deserted street. I really enjoy the visual aesthetic of walking through fog, but only when dressed accordingly. At the time of this photo, pretty early one morning, I was not dressed warmly enough and undertook the walk with what I can only describe as bone-chilled urgency. This gave what I would normally find to be a hazy, dreamy atmosphere a distinctly Silent Hill vibe. The mere fact that I was hurrying to my destination made it a lot easier to imagine escaping from some ambiguous pursuer, distant but not distant enough for comfort.

Barley, a dog, sleeps and dreams on a faux-marble bedspread, her head resting on a pillow wishing her a good night. I’ve made much in the past of how quiet Barley is, almost never barking except in the depths of her dreams. I’ve also made much of what a light sleeper she is. Despite many attempts over several years, I’ve never been able to digitally capture Barley’s sleep woofs… until now! The recording below took place at the precise time this photo was taken. I credit having been able to capture this rare footage to the loud air purifier that was running at the time, which no doubt masked the gentle rustling of my clothes as I turned to face her. This, unfortunately, provides the backing track to Barley’s announcements. Worry not: Once I’d captured the moment, I gently woke her. As cute as her sleep woofs are, the manner in which she vocalizes when she’s awake suggests that any dream worthy of growling and woofing was probably not a pleasant dream.

Barley, a dog, tromps across light snow in a vast, empty parking lot toward the wheel tracks of someone having pulled a u-turn in the snow. I spend so little time dealing with snow that when I spotted these circular tracks, my mind immediately conjured an image of Troubled Youth cruising around the snowscape and recklessly doing donuts in empty parking lots. I only realized later how absurdly I had misread what was probably instead a tired and cautious commuter pulling into a parking lot and turning around to avoid a mild hill that might be a little icy. Barley, by contrast, wasn’t fooled for a second - I’m 100% sure she would have stopped to sniff burned rubber reside, and these modest tire tracks didn’t warrant even a passing whiff.

Barley, a dog, turns her head and looks in the same direction as a fairly abstracted sculpture of a bear(?) made from segments of bark-bearing wood. The demands placed on yard art often push it to have very unusual combinations of attributes. It must be expressive, of course, but can’t be beloved or else it would probably stay indoors. It also needs to emphasize long-term durability over the immediate experience of viewing the work. Stop to consider how deeply weird most yard art would look in a person’s home, just as many forms of indoor art would look weird in a yard. I don’t know of any formal theory discussing these qualities, but I feel very confident that when this homeowner bought this bear(?), their first thought was not, “This looks great!” but, “This would look great in my yard!”

Barley, a dog, stands beneath a property-for-sale sign that says, “I’M GORGEOUS INSIDE!” Barley really has a wonderful personality. Even when her behavior is a little unruly (e.g. when she would like to clamber up and stand tall with her front paws on someone’s lap in order to kiss their face), she radiates an innocent enthusiasm. Even when spooked by something as alarming as a floating orb, her instinct is to seek comfort and shelter. She’s looking to have a good time and, with her blessedly limited of theory of mind, is bringing us all along on that quest.

Juniper, a dog, watches television with her new friend, a comically tiny squirrel toy. Because Juniper is so meticulous and dainty with her toys, with no apparent interest in treating them like prey, she can be trusted with toys that would normally be a bit on the small side for a dog of her size. Recently, she was gifted a hollow cloth log and three tiny squirrels that can be stuffed into the log to subsequently be extracted. She apparently loves these tiny new friends. While they haven’t dethroned Husky as Juniper’s most devoted companion, she seems to like having one of her squirrels around when watching TV for some reason.

Barley, a dog, lies on a sofa with her head wedge between two throw cushions, as if her face is the contents of a cushion sandwich. Are you losing sleep because you can’t sleep unless both sides of your face resting on a pillow, and no matter how you toss and turn, there’s no way to get both sides of your face facing down? Try Barley’s patent-pending sandwich technique today, and discover a new universe of comfort!

Barley, a dog, stared at (or through?) a white fence with in a stance radiating its potential energy. Moments before this photo was taken, Barley spotted a cat who crossed her path and then immediately hid in a bush. Unfortunately, the ferocity of Barley’s prey drive took her right past the bush where I could see the cat was hiding, and down the full length of this fence. What you see here is her turning the corner, where she no doubt believed she was going to get the drop of the cat, only to discover more fence! I’m confident she would have had me circumnavigate this entire house if given the chance.

Barley, a dog, sniffs the nether regions of a golden retriever who is lying happily on her back. Barley has a workplace buddy with whom she very occasionally gets to hang out, and whenever they do, their dynamic is very funny. Barley is generally pretty bossy with other dogs. She wants them to know she’s the boss, and is excited to convey that repeatedly in the form of rough-housing play. Her buddy, by contrast, may be the most submissive dog I’ve ever met, and submits to Barley’s authority with just as much enthusiasm.

Barley, a dog, sees a hole that was meant for her. I’ll never know why, exactly, this hole is so compelling, but it doesn’t matter whether months have passed or whether Barley got a chance to check it out earlier in the same day. When we pass this hole, she will stand and sniff for as long as she can until I finally coax her away.

Barley, a dog, pulls excitedly on her leash in the hopes of approach postal truck down the road. Growing up, I was always a little puzzled by cartoon trope of dogs chasing mail carriers. The idea made sense, of course, but for various reasons it was never a behavior I witnessed in person. It was one of those “facts” that kids learn primarily from pop culture instead of lived experience; you know, the type that often turn out to have no basis in reality? Well. Ever since the mail carriers in my neighborhood started consistently (a) carrying treats on their person and (b) offering them to Barley, she’s become a big fan of mail vans. I have to try to temper her enthusiasm because she gets excited enough to be a little bonkers about it.

Barley, a dog, sniffy about beside an ostentatious garden wall that’s just a little too tidy to be fieldstone. Barley’s not a huge dog bit she’s big enough to let her presence be known. A lot of it comes down to her exuberant personality. I’m so used to her at her current size that when we encounters something that goes a bit over the top, my instinct isn’t to feel like it makes her look small, but rather to feel like she makes those thinks look even bigger. While I can easily see over this wall, seeing Barley right next to it bring to mind a vision of Barley as a Forgotten Beast, stalking the perimeter of a stony fortress.

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!