Barley, a dog, overcomes her fear of a ball of snow. In most contexts, Barley runs toward anything that catches her attention. She has things she’s afraid of, of course (thunderclaps, lightning flashes, and fireworks all come to mind), but when it comes to objects she’s afraid of, Public Enemy #1 is “a large, bright, basic shape.” Here we see a ball of snow, no doubt rolled by students during the recent snow and slowly succumbing to the sun’s heat. Barley spotted this snowball from about 20 yards away and immediately started growling. The hair on her back stood up and her tail tucked between her legs. When I tried to get her to approach the offending sphere, her first instinct was to try to orbit around it with the leash at full tension. Only with much cajoling did I get her to approach the sphere and, after much hesitant sniffing, she seems to have concluded that it was all a false alarm.

Barley, a dog, relaxes on a futon with Tico, a dog toy, once a sloth and now something lesser. Tico is another of Barley’s long-time toys and he, too, is a victim of Barley’s literal defacement. I suspect she has removed the face specifically because Fluff and Tuff, the company responsible, uses stitching instead of plastic for features like eyes and these slightly denser parts of the toy are especially pleasant to chew. Tico’s claws were also immediately excised by steady application of chomp, I imagine for the same reason.

Barley, a dog, warms herself under a rumpled scarlet blanket. An advantage of Barley having such fine fur and living in a rainy climate is that she only needs the occasional bath - a bit of rain followed by a vigorous drying-off counts for a lot! Even so, she still gets a bath from time to time, and this when it’s most clear how easily she gets cold. So after drying her off as best I can, I usually bundle her up on the futon in her dedicated post-bath blanket. What can I say, it’s fashion.

Barley, a dog, appears to give a questionably-shaped baby carrot a mean side-eye. Barley, a dog, reconsiders her initial appraisal of the questionably-shaped baby carrot. This is absolutely lying with photography: I accidentally took this photo in burst mode during one of Barley’s innocent head-swivels, but I’m tickled by the story these two frames appear to tell and so feel compelled to share it.

Juniper, a dog, is rather overwhelmed by the overbearing affection of Barley, another dog. This is Juniper the day she met Barley. If the vibe you’re getting from Juniper in this picture is, “Please, help!” then you’ve just about got the measure of it. Barley was bursting with energy after leaving the shelter, and came on a lot stronger than Juniper was comfortable with. Still a puppy and much less assertive than she is now, Juniper proceeded to run away from Barley for about three days. To her credit, Barley gradually picked up what Juniper was putting down, ramping down the enthusiasm of her approach until the two finally clicked on their fourth day together.

Barley, a dog, would like the viewer to pick up and throw Manny, a beleaguered dog toy that is still recognizable as a lobster. Manny’s best days are no doubt behind him, something that can be said of most of Barley’s toys. for one thing, he definitely started off with a face. Following Phase 1 of play with a new toy (which involves a lot of shaking, tugging, and prancing about), Barley will sometimes transition to Phase 2, in which she finds the toy’s weak spots and systematically attacks them. Her back teeth have a scissor-like quality, and she’ll use them to worry away stitching until the stuffing is exposed. (Thankfully, she’s not interested in the stuffing). The secret to her toys’ longevity lies in what comes next: So, Manny struggles along, blind and tailless but at least enjoying a stable existence despite Barley’s powerful chomps.

Barley, a dog, surveys what little snow remains as the sun reasserts itself. Walking Barley is generally enjoyable but it’s never precisely relaxing. Like many dogs who were rescued from stray, Barley is a relentlessly opportunistic omnivore. Even on a normal day, she will take her chances trying to snaffle up almost anything that she even suspects might be edible. Leaving aside some of the unmentionables she considers edible, her gut is also fairly delicate (probably as a consequence of her past opportunism), so both she and I will have a bad time later if I don’t keep a close eye on what she’s sniffing. This makes the thaw after a snowfall especially dicey, as winter peels back its extra layer and the invisible cushion of water vapor at ground level wafts up the odorants of all the cursed goodies being freshly revealed.

Barley, a dog, sleeps the blessed sleep of the innocent beside Manny, once a lobster chew toy, now much reduced and many times repaired. Like many dogs, Barley’s typical day consists of long naps, punctuated by bursts of excited activity. In spite of her enthusiasm having bottomless reserves, her physical stamina has always been quite limited, and after a normal day of getting fed, taking walks, and periodically getting to say hello to other humans, she is usually out like a light by nightfall. Her ability to go from sixty to zero is reflected by the presence of Manny in this photo. She did not bring him onto the couch for comfort. Instead, she jumped up there to enthusiastically chomp on him some more, only to immediately realize (as she usually does) that the futon is very comfortable, actually, and going to sleep then and there.

Barley, a dog, forges valiantly ahead through ankle-deep snow, cloaked in broad shadows. So long as precipitation isn’t coming down from the sky and she’s suitably insulated, Barley’s enthusiasm for exploration retakes place of pride in her hierarchy of needs. Barley seems to enjoy a robust snowfall, and I think it’s because she’s experienced it so rarely in her life. It’s clear from her steady snuffling that it’s a whole new olfactory landscape. For my part, I’m happy to limit such walks to brief bursts of novelty, because her hard-charging enthusiasm is not always suited to the level of care that I need to take as snow-pack turns to skating rink.

Barley, a dog, pulls ahead into a snow-dusted scene with such force that the very lines of perspective appear to bend. The morning dustings were not a sufficient indicator of the snow to come, and so when Barley and I left work, she was rather under-dressed. As such, when met with the snowfall, her initial hesitancy to leave the shelter of the awning gave way to a full-bodied commitment that the only way out is through. I imagine somewhere within her, the same totemic spirit awakens that strengthens the resolve of seasoned sled dogs, and she is overtaken by the drive to Follow By Leading. This arrangement is only complicated by Barley having no clear idea of where she’s going, other than forward!

Juniper, a dog, is curious to know more. Juniper and Barley are both Floridian rescue dogs, and are adoptive sisters. They are also a study in contrasts. Where Barley is charges straight into the action, Juniper is more cautious and discerning. Where Barley is relentlessly pro-social, Juniper is wary of the unfamiliar. Barley ignores both screen and mirrors, but Juniper watches television intently and uses mirrors to peek around corners. Barley is often happy to zone out and chill, but you can tell that Juniper is always thinking, watching and listening to her surroundings, trying to work out what’s going to happen next.

Barley, a dog, blissed out on solar radiation. Yes, it’s very cold outside. I hear you, I hear you clamoring for Barley Snow Pics. But I ask you to consider what Barley would want. And in that spirit, we will return to Barley’s snowy adventures soon, and remain in the sunnier realm of her ideal conditions for the time being. True to her Florida roots, Barley is a proper sun worshiper. On sunny days during the warmer months, she will find a spot that’s been pre-warmed and flop down, soaking up the heat from above and the residual heat from below. With only a fine layer of fur and no undercoat to speak of, summer basking is one of the few occasions during which she can become properly Toasty, a status she clearly enjoys.

Barley, a dog, is easily distracted during a photoshoot. As a rule, Barley wants to be good. However, it’s also clear that she has no concept of either “cameras” or of “posing.” This makes her a somewhat challenging subject to photograph, especially when outdoors. The game is always afoot, and there’s always something new to be paying attention to! So any pose she happens to strike while on a walk needs to be captured immediately, or else be swept away by Barley’s relentless experience of The Now.

Barley, a dog, presents her sturdiest toy atop of a promontory of comfort. When it comes to what passes for carpet in an office setting, Barley’s comfort threshold clearly isn’t satisfied by its scouring-pad roughness or its threadbare thinness. First order of business: Put a second carpet on that carpet! That gets us over the bar for chilling with a toy (perhaps her very most chew resistant toy, pictured here), but a proper nap calls for a dog bed on two layers of carpet. It’s all about layers!

Barley, a dog, sails upon an ocean of carpet. While an adaptable pup who makes do with what she can, Barley still maintains clear preferences for certain surfaces. The softer, in general, the better. Grass is particularly favored, especially if it’s green and well-watered. On this basis, the dividing line between carpet that makes the grade and carpet that’s just concrete in disguise couldn’t be more clear. Happily, the wall-to-wall apartment carpeting in her home base passes muster, giving her free rein to plop down with a toy anywhere she likes.

Barley, a dog, meets a tiny horse. What better way to inaugurate this steady drip-feed of canine appreciation than with the introduction of this very small horse, spotted in the wild. Barley, for her part, dismissed the quadruped after the briefest sniff before shifting her attention to more inscrutable objects of interest.