The Very Earth, Made Plush

Barley, a dog, is curled up on a fluffy, well-stuffed new dog bed. She is glancing at the camera to see what all the fuss is about.

Barley is now the proud steward of a new dog bed. The old bed, which was beginning to look a little threadbare, will go to my parents, where it will remain as an accessory for Barley’s future visits.

Given the goofy levels of fluff in this new bed, I can’t help but ponder the ways in which this sort of dog bed is not meaningfully different than a plush toy. Despite this, and despite having many such toys, Barley at no point looked at this bed and saw a beast she could thrash. She understood immediately that this is softness on which to loaf. How does she make that distinction? Don’t get me wrong, I’m also very grateful that she doesn’t see throw pillows as toys, either, but she’s carving the objects of the world into practical categories really effectively, so naturally I’m curious what she’s relying on to do so.