The Wasteland

Barley, a dog, stands in a vast expanse of rough, poorly maintained concrete.

Barley rarely seems disoriented, either because there’s some enticing edge to move toward, or because we’re already moving in a direction and momentum carries the day. In this instance, as we were crossing a large paved area, free of cars, I stopped to check on a text I had received. This took a moment, and when I looked down at Barley, she seemed unusually hesitant. It was about the same distance to a wall in all directions, and there was really nothing around at her eye level to look at. Given how little she relies on long-distance vision to navigate, I think the space was so barren of any landmarks that she lost her bearings and was waiting for me to take the lead.