Sticking To The Backroads

Barley, a dog, trots along a footpath behind a brick building.

I remain somewhat mystified by how Barley parses “where she should be headed” in her field of view. Here, for example, she is resolutely interested in following the path, and when she stops to sniff something beside the path, she doesn’t seem inclined to race off into the underbrush. But paths are of no relevance to her when they pass beside tended lawns, she sees no distinction there at all. But sometimes the underbrush calls to her and I have to keep from being pulled into some low-hanging branches. I get the impression that she has a sophisticated internal lexicon for all the various surfaces and how good or bad they are to walk upon, and I have not quite cracked the code.