Barley, a dog, lies flat on her belly with her legs stretched out behind her, and looks back over her shoulder at the camera. It’s shots like these that help me to appreciate how fundamentally conical Barley’s body plan is. Toes back like this, and with the benefit of a pillow for support, she forms a near-perfect inclined plane. No doubt it’s that big ole’ blockhead of hers that leads people to regularly overestimate her size and weight, but even at her beefiest, she still tapers right off at the back end.

Barley, a dog, stands on a small platform decorated with a fading abstract mosaic of blue, yellow, green, and orange tiles. On the one hand, it’s clearly too much to expect Barley to appreciate this mosaic. After all, even the unimpeachable beauty of a simple rose is lost on her, so what hope is there for our pale human imitations of the natural world? On the other hand, I’m curious what the rationale was for this piece, situated in a playground and presumably executed by a child, to be presented horizontally in this way. Really unclear to me what these platforms are for, if not for standing on the art.

Barley, a dog, has managed to bundle herself up a big in a comforter. As much as Barley wants to stay close (as described in a previous post), she has her limits. So whenever I’m doing something mildly vexatious (using the vacuum cleaner, running the shower, etc.), she usually takes refuge in the bedroom and wiggles her way into a comforting ball. She definitely doesn’t understand how one would, mechanically, get under the covers, but she manages to pretty effectively rumple things around herself when she wants to comfort herself with some coziness.

Barley, a dog, lies happily in the cool shade and surveys her surroundings. One of Barley’s most endearing traits is that, overwhelmingly, her motivation is to hang out in your company. Whatever you’re doing, she’s into it, so long as she gets to stay close. A resolute team player. So, whether we’re own walking on a hot day or at home, she’ll immediately take five and relax if I just sit down on the ground next to her. “Oh, this is what we’re doing now? Cool, yes, I dig it.”

Barley, a dog, has her back feet planted firm as she thrashes a blue monkey. Probably the best decision made by the manufacturers of this very cheap toy was to install the squeaker in the toy’s throat. Barley has been entranced by its viability as a prey substitute, and gets herself really riled up every time she goes for the throat and feels that extra bit of resistance to her chomp. The squeaker itself is just about dead at this point, but Barley is so much more consistent about biting this toy on the neck that I’m persuaded she really likes that it has a sinewy, cartilaginous mouthfeel.

Juniper, a dog, squints through sunshine from a stately sit on mulch near a brick wall. Probably the biggest difference in Barley and Juniper’s daily routine is that Juniper not only has access to a yard, but has command of it, as its appointed guardian. On any given day, she’ll make patrols of the property a half dozen times or more, and will sometimes spend hours observing patiently from one of several vantage points. A favorite spot of hers in cooler months is a patch of mulch inset into a corner, as this pocket reflects and captures the warmth of the sun. We see her here, sizing us up with an attitude that says, “Hey, you’re blocking the view.”

Barley, a dog, sleeps in a manner that looks less relaxed than it does exhausted. I’ve given a lot of thought to why Barley seems to nervous when she goes to the vet. She didn’t used to, and I don’t have reason to think they’re treating her badly. However, a majority of her visits are to have her teeth cleaned, which requires general anesthesia following a pre-treatment dose of benzos. We see Barley here deflated in the hours following her return home from the vet, a funk that takes her about a day to shake off. What I’ve begun to suspect is that she really doesn’t like the experience of emerging from an amnestic sleep, stoned and disoriented, in a strange place, and that the reason she gets so nervous when we got the vet is that she anticipates that she’s about to sail once more down Willy Wonka’s Tunnel of Terror.

Barley, a dog, peers ahead along a footpath worn into a grassy clearing. On the occasions that Barley and I find ourselves in less residential surroundings, I always find myself feeling more nervous about the trouble she could get herself into. Given the option, she would absolutely disappear into the underbrush and worm her way through the shrubbery, discovering paths I could never follow her down. It’s a wholly irrational concern - her leash is sound and any animals she might tangle with will have made themselves scarce long beforehand. But she’s bold enough in her desire to explore that it’s not a sentiment I’ve been able to shake.

Barley, a dog, sems to strike a particularly dainty pose while considering her manta ray toys. One of the great joys of pet ownership is how often they coincidentally stumble into some or another amusing pose. When Barley gave this head-turn, I was immediately struck by a sense of a belle with a fan and coy reserve, who knows more than she’s telling. The reality, of course, is that Barley was likely curious if I was going to help her disembowel her prey or not.

Barley, a dog, sits happily in the sunshine with a lone palm tree in the background. With the weather finally feeling like summer, I can’t quite verbalize how disorienting it was when this palm tree came into view. Barley is, as noted in the past, a Florida Dog, but we’ve not been back to Florida in years at this point. There’s no sign that this is a freshly planted tree - I’ve surely walked Barley past it dozens of times - but it somehow never registered until I beheld it standing tall against a clear blue sky, as the hot sun beat down on our backs. Barley, for her past, betrayed no signs of any such nostalgia, and was simply happy to be out in the sunshine.

Barley, a dog, pointedly ignores a toy duck that appears to want her attention. One of Barley’s more curious quirks is that her desire to play flips on and off very suddenly, like a switch. She might, for example, bring me a toy with a hopeful look, tail wagging, and proceed to chomp, tug, thrash, and keep-away with all due enthusiasm. And then, just like that, sometimes after only a minute or two, the mood will pass. The toy, which she had been so happy to imagine as conquered prey, becomes inert in her eyes, just another pebble on the road. Even, as pictured here, when the toy would very much still like to play.

Barley, a dog, squirms vigorously on her back, her legs blurred from the motion of it. Barley only rarely gets proper tear-around-the-house zoomies, but that doesn’t keep her from getting all wound up. Unlike her outdoor wiggles, which usually reflect a need to cool off her sun-warmed back, her in-house waggling usually presages a bout of insisting that it’s Time To Play. If I hear her kicking at the sky on the futon and knocking pillows around, I can count on her happily approaching holding one toy or another moments later, hopeful that I’ll tug or chase.

Juniper, a dog, stands excitedly in her kiddie pool with a tennis ball in her mouth. Juniper’s relationship with bodies of water is… fraught. Some dogs happily paddle along once their feet no longer touch the bottom, but if Juniper finds herself in the deep end, her eyes go wide and she tries to get the bottom underfoot against as soon as possible. She’s gone to the ocean (and mostly hated it), and has been in a backyard pool or two (and hated those as well). Her ideal water depth turns out to be just about ankle deep, enough to make splashies and keep the water cool. Given a kiddie pool with that manageable depth of water, she’ll happily jump in when she’s hot, splash around, then jump out again, refreshed and ready for nonsense.

Barley, a dog, has spotted a duck! While the photo does not quite capture the urgency of the situation, I can assure you that Barley is very aware of the mallard she has just spotted, whose plumage is just barely visible at the top of the frame. A second, better camouflaged female is nearby, but Barley didn’t have a line of sight on her. Fear not, the ducks were not approached and I’ve since given the area a wide berth, but it took some considerable effort to get her to disengage from these intriguing additions to the neighborhood.

Barley, a dog, cares not for the Caution Tape! She will step right over it, never you mind! As much as this picture might paint Barley as a rebel who makes her own rules, the reality is that Caution Tape is an immaterial deterrent, especially once it’s on the ground. To her eyes, it’s probably not even a noteworthy color, being merely whatever color the sky isn’t. That said, tape that’s still up and properly in place has a pretty good chance of bothering her if it flutters in the wind. Get her that sort of tape barrier and she’ll duck-and-jog like a politician nervously exiting a helicopter as if fearful of the rotors.

Barley, a dog, meticulously removes the back ridges from a stegosaurus toy. Barley’s toys stand up to her attention pretty well these days, but the one thing she cannot abide on a new toy is a Stitched Ridge, or similar flappy bit running some length of the animal. Such ridges, along with similar features like fins or frills, get worried away with her molars. Back when she had her incisors, she’s snip these right off (and usually disembowel the toy in the process) within the first five minutes, but now it’s a more protracted affair, more akin to Andy Dufresne making incremental progress toward freedom.

Barley, a dog, licks her nose after a particularly intense session of sniffing. Being the avid sniffer that she is, it’s no surprise that Barley really gets her snoot into the thick of things. Occasionally, she’ll sniff and sniff and sniff for what seems like an unreasonably long time, like she can’t quite figure out some faint trace. I’ve noticed that after these most intense of sniffvestigations, she invariably gives her schnoz a hearty lick as her attention turns elsewhere. I conclude from this that these big licks bring her nose back to a nominal status.

Barley, a dog, displays the business end of a black rubber chew toy in the shape of a hollow bone. While Barley’s teeth are no longer suited to true skeletal remains, she does enjoy a few more durable toys, and this bone has been the reigning champ. While she’s made gradual progress in wearing it down, the rubber remains surprisingly resilient! Frustratingly, I’ve just noticed that the local store where I’ve bought this toy before no longer carries it, so as a precautionary measure, I’ve just received an extra copy of this toy from an online seller. I probably won’t need it for another year or so, but Barley’s been such a consistent fan (and it has stood up to her so reliably) that I’m willing to invest over the long term.

Barley, a dog, sits in view of a cluster of cherry blossoms. With the weather finally (if intermittently) warming up, the local flora has finally begun to respond in kind. Various fruiting bodies have gone all flowery, no doubt presaging the berries of summer. For the time being, however, Barley is uninterested. Her disinterest in flowers has come up before, but the exciting new development is that she has almost completely lost her Heat Stamina. Even a walk of moderate length on a somewhat sunny day results in one pooped pup!

Juniper, a dog, sits and stares intently at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. Juniper is an unnervingly screen-savvy pup, and will contentedly watch television for hours, usually doing so from some vantage in which she can lie relaxed and either stare or snooze. She was unusually keen on the goings-on in Breath of the Wild, however, showing much more interest in it than she does in most games. Apart from barking at the game’s various excellent dogs, I think she was very intrigued by its rich diegetic soundscape. Its winds, subtle nature sounds, and other atmospheric details seems to have held her attention in ways that more conventional soundtracks and cinematic editing do not.