Post for: #black mouth cur ^{(90 Posts)}

Juniper, a dog, holds a plush beachball in her mouth. She seems somewhat at a loss how to proceed. Juniper loves her big ball toy, as she does all her toys, but she also seems somewhat confused by it. On the one hand, it’s a ball, and she loves balls. Great to chase, great to chomp, no notes. But on the other hand, it’s also fuzzy, like all of her beloved creature toys, and those are her friends with which she must be gentle and nurturing. So if playtime is signalled, she’ll rush to chomp it, and then sort of… hang out with it in her mouth for a while. Eventually, it of course must suffer the secret fate of all toys, which is to be squirreled away in her crate for safekeeping.

Juniper, a dog, curls up on her big dog bed, but her eyes are wide and aimed upward at a television outside of and above the frame of the photo. I find many things about Juniper’s television watching intriguing. Not only is she quite engaged when she watches screens, she appears to be comfortable doing so from such an oblique angle that the television’s image fidelity is surely impacted. Being a dog with limited color vision, the chromatic effects of viewing a flatscreen at an angle probably don’t bother her to much, but surely she can tell that the contrast is off. Furthermore, how does she square the television image getting narrower? She doesn’t seem to quite understand the 2D nature of screens (she still sometimes investigates behind the laptop screen if someone’s head ducks out of view on a video call), so is she lying on her bed in this photo thinking to herself, “Geez, the Bake-Off contestants sure are tall and narrow today.”

Juniper, a dog, sits excitedly, ready to spring into pursuit after a ball that is about to be thrown. Juniper’s existence is one of long, slow, watchful days, punctuated by bursts of sudden intensity. Her hips are such that she can’t operate at full steam for too terribly long, but she can nevertheless call upon a sprinter’s spirit when given sufficient motivation. Typically, two scenarios induce a fully activated Juniper. One is Pursuit! Chasing a ball is great, but she’s no less explosive in her pursuit of interloping creatures who have breached the perimeter. The other is Going Home! Juniper remains actively wary of going on walks, but becomes incredibly excited when she realizes that the walk is heading back towards the safety of her home base.

Juniper, a dog, rears up on her hind legs to bark at an elevated television that depicts two small children playing with a puppy. Juniper’s quest to banish screen beasts is not limited to the sort of adult animals that might pose a risk to her people. She’ll just as enthusiastically throw down the gauntlet when presented with literal puppies. Be they tiny and bumbling or looming and monstrous, Juniper will always let the house know when a furry interloper has sullied one of her beloved screens.

Juniper, a dog, stands with two paws on the dock and two paws on dry land in the late afternoon, and watches with dutiful attention as a seagull flies over the water. Juniper happened to be standing near the water, as this bird came over the trees, and she perked right up as it approached. She didn’t bark, or scramble. She tracked it calmly as it came low over the water, and once it had made its water landing, the trotted out to the end of the pier and gazed at it for a while longer before making her way back to land, seemingly contented that she had a handle on the situation.

Juniper, a dog, holds her toy monkey in her mouth and parades it past a large window that has a view of the yard beyond. Juniper’s behavior with her stuffed toys has always come across as much more motivated by companionship and caretaking than Barley’s approach (which has quite a bit more of a RIP AND TEAR enthusiasm). It feels plausible to me that Juniper has projected some parental feelings onto her toys, carrying then by the scruff but otherwise being very gentle and snuggly with them. It amuses me to imagine that she might be bringing her monkey along on one of her window patrols not merely as a comfort object, but in the hopes of mentoring it in the ways of vigilance.

Juniper, a dog, is curled up on her huge dog bed while wearing a black dog hoodie. Juniper’s rarely anywhere cold enough to need extra insulation, and she’s not nearly as bit a chicken about storms and fireworks as Barley. However, some things definitely still stress her our (like when a plumber needs to come and fix a problem, and is mysteriously bonking around for a couple hours doing so). Rather than wear a thundershirt, she generally just dons one of her sweaters, and this seems to do the trick. In fact, she gets very excited whenever she gets to wear one, for whatever reason, so their benefit may be less of a “let’s squeeze this scared dog until its calm” effect and more of a “I’m so fuckin’ stoked to be cozy!” effect.

Juniper, a dog, stands next to a patio fire pit that is halfway unwrapped. Juniper’s neck of the woods is rapidly approaching Peak Backyard Wood Fire Season: Cool enough after dark that a warm spot to gather around is a pleasant option at a gathering, but not so cold but everyone would rather just stay inside. For her part, though, Juniper is somewhat suspicious of such gatherings. The fire pit itself is worthy of suspicion (which, frankly, is a much more welcome reaction from a dog than excessive curiosity), but more generally, gatherings in the dark seem to heighten Juniper’s need to Protect, lest some heinous creature (such as, gasp!, a possum) tries to crash the party. So rather than withdraw to her chambers to relax, Juniper is given under such conditions to remain a bit high-strung, prowling the perimeter with restless energy.

Juniper, a dog, is curled up on top of a comforter, her body partly covered by a pillow with a fuzzy pillowcase. Juniper’s general fussiness extends to her sleep preferences. She would like to snuggle up close, until she doesn’t and prefers something soft within earshot of humans, unless she instead wants some full-blown solitude. the precise combination of factors that set her moods is always mysterious, but those moods also rely on the stability of her circumstances. So if (for example) a bit of painting temporarily necessitates sleeping on a futon in the living room, such that her circuit of snooze spots is off limits, she will default to her core preference for uncertain times: Keep it close, and keep it cozy.

Juniper, a dog, is hidden beneath a futon. Only her hind legs peek out, as viewed from above in this photo. Like so many Internet denizens, Juniper must sometimes take steps to quell the exquisit agonies of Being Seen. Fortunately for us, her limited canine perspective taking is such that she often doesn’t quite achieve full stealth mode. These days, she mostly retreats to her crate, but back in the day she used the cozy stratum beneath the guest room futon as her refuge of choice, and her skooch-to-get-under technique almost always left her toes exposed.

Juniper, a dog, sleeps on her comically large bed in a cable-knit sweater that clings to the contours of her body. As we all prepare to bid cohost a quiet passing into archival memory, we would all do well to keep our respective creatures close, and keep them warm. Theirs is a simple world, as compared with ours and its abstract and convoluted problems, and there is comfort to be had in bringin comfort to theirs. This is Juniper’s 85th post, on cohost’s final Juniper Friday, but an 86th entry will appear soon, as all our adventures will continue in all our widening worlds.

Juniper, a dog, lies on the floor beside a red sofa and looks at an offscreen television with rapt attention. I absolutely did not appreciate the unusual intensity of Juniper’s relationship with television until after Barley had joined the household. In this ancient photo, we see Juniper at the very boundary of adulthood, still less than a year old, transfixed by the glowing noisebox. She was a bit less anxious, then, and a lot less picky, and would sit and watch just about anything with us, calm and quiet (unless some screenbeast wandered into frame, of course). Today, it’s easier to identify her comfort genres (sitcoms and cooking shows) by how every part of her body relaxes when she watches them, except her eyes, which remain wide.

Juniper, a dog, nestles into a large throw cushion such that her front and back paws are bundled together on the cushion, while her butt pokes past its edge and rests on the couch directly. Unlike Barley, whose main rest posts are to bend into a face-covering croissant or to flop her body flat and sideways, Juniper prefers an approach that lets her paws touch. She’s he’s snuggling against you, she’s prone to putting multiple paws (sometimes all of her paws) on you to gently monitor your proximity, but on her own, she’ll just touch her own paws together instead. I’m just glad she can tell when she’s near to herself.

Juniper, a dog, lies in the grass on a dry, ‘resting’ lawn with her back to the camera, fussing with some small object (a ball) that is hidden from the camera’s view. Once Juniper has patrolled the perimeter and persuaded herself that all is well on the property, she will often plop herself down in a central location and hang out for a bit. If she has one of her tennis balls with her (as she often does), she may gently fuss with it a bit, although it is wholly unclear what she hopes to accomplish while doing so. As a dog who uses tennis balls as comfort objects, I have to wonder: Is she doting on it? Maybe, just maybe, she gains a sense of calm and relief from the burdens of the world by conveying to this inanimate object, in her own way, that “everything’s going to be fine.”

Juniper, a dog, lies on the grass with her head and shoulders in the shade of a mesh sun chair. She looks up at the camera, as a tennis ball rests between her elbows. Juniper is not a fan of playing tug. Nevertheless, she has a well-developed sense of “this is mine at the moment,” and is a little fussy about this sense of ownership. If teased with threats to take the object away, she has the opposite of Barley’s response - instead of flaunting the object defiantly, she slinks off with the object to some place she won’t be bothered so much. I suspect this is why so many of her toys make their way into her crate. Best way to keep her treasures safe, after all.

Juniper, a dog, hangs out in her crate with her beloved stuffies, watching out the open door from within the shadow cast by a crocheted blanket draped over its top. Juniper will (approximately) play fetch, but when she runs to get one her plush toys, it’s almost always to carry it to safety in her crate. At any given time, most of her toys are in her crate. If she’s going to play with one of her toys outside her crate, it’s usually because she’s already very relaxed. Toys + excitement = the “gotta get them to safety!” game. It’s a game she seems to enjoy; she’s not distressed by her toys being out and about. But she does like to decompress in there when she’s overly activated, so one presumes she’s looking out for their wellbeing.

Juniper, a dog, rests on her giant dog bed with her beloved and immaculate monkey plush. The extent to which Juniper Is Baby, even as she is solidly middle-aged, is something only witnessed by those she has become fully comfortable around. For all her wariness, all her patrolling of the perimeter, all her barking at passing cars, I think the thing Juniper wants most dearly is for things to be safe and chill. Inevitably, some of the unrest in her life comes from within, but I don’t doubt that Juniper hopes that someone could Take Care Of It and let her unwind.

Juniper, a dog, gingerly eats a sampling of mixed cooked vegetables from an artichoke-themed bowl. In contrast to Barley (who will eat almost anything), Juniper is a notoriously picky eater. Partly, this is a matter of anxiety: She usually only eats when she feels safe, and as such (a) won’t eat just anywhere (having her back to an open room is not the ambiance she’s looking for) and (b) will hold off eating for an alarmingly long time if things haven’t “settled” (e.g., if there are houseguests). But beyond that, she is also discerning. She loves cheese, but if you hide a pill she needs to eat in some cheese, you need to watch her carefully to make sure she doesn’t eat around the pill and discard it. So it’s quite interesting that she is as interested as she is in the food the humans are eating. There is a social dynamic that she clearly buys into, because if there’s a big dinner with a lot of prep and she’s given just a little bit of the food to sample, she seems to set her standards aside, eats whatever she is given enthusiastically, and then trots off with what seems for all the world like a sense of accomplishment.

Juniper, a dog, sits excitedly on a lawn chair with her ears up and her mouth open, visibly jazzed that her ball is about to be thrown. As so many dogs with working breeds in her lineage, Juniper often bring a certain “let me at ‘em!” energy to her play. She is very keen to chase when commanded, so throwing a ball is going to be a big hit, but once she’s in motion, she doesn’t always being the ball right back. Getting up to full speed overcomes a lot of her “I need to be a good girl” inhibitions and she sometimes just runs. When the spirit moves her, she may snatch up the ball and keep going, making several laps around the yard until she finally flops onto her belly and drops the ball to more effectively pant. It’s probably for the best that she’s never really had the luxury of long straightaways, because she’s already real fast, and if she were any faster it would probably only run the risk of getting her into trouble some day.

Juniper, a dog, sits atop a flurry white floor mat in what appears to be a bathroom. As much as she feels a strong bond to her people, Juniper also has her own routine and habits. At times, she craves a solitary nap in a cozy nook; at others, she wishes to monitor the property and patrol its perimeter. But at other times, she goes full velcro dog and will insist, as politely as she can, on accompanying you into the bathroom.

Juniper, a dog, stands in a fence yard, her body clearly visible in profile. A slight zigzag is visible in her tail. A detail of Juniper’s tail that photos don’t quite do justice is that it has two permanent “kinks” that give it a characteristic zigzag. She was born in a shelter with these, and they don’t give her any trouble at all. According to the shelter operators, this is fairly common in large litters (Juniper was the born the smallest of eleven puppy siblings), because when the womb gets very crowded, a few tail vertebrae can become fused at slightly arbitrary angles. When we met Juniper’s sister Kona by happenstance, we learned that Kona’s tail is fused in three places, at angles that give her a permanent corkscrew tail. They say that from crooked timber, no straight thing is ever made, but zigzag or no, Juniper’s as straight-shooting a dog as they come.

Juniper, a dog, happily (if sleepily) chills atop the sofa by the window, as is her want, at the edge of a wide show portraying her living room. After a hard day’s work protecting and patrolling the homestead, Juniper loves nothing more than to be with her people as they watch some light television. She is, however, only sometimes a snugglebug. Just as often, she keeps her distance and chills somewhere elevated that she can lie down and keep an eye on everyone. Be a shame to lose that high-ground advantage, after all.

Juniper, a dog, sniffs curiously beneath the countertop of a kitchen where there is both a big pot of soup cooking on the stove and an Instant Pot simmering on the counter. Whereas Barley is good in the kitchen mostly because she has close to no concept that surfaces above her eyeline can harbor unseen objects, Juniper is good in the kitchen because she wants very badly to be a good girl and hasn’t been given permission to investigate. You can tell the difference because Juniper’s sniffy investigations are much more directed: She knows something is going on in the kitchen, and she has a pretty good idea where.

Juniper, a dog, lies on her back on her huge dog bed, itself on a big queen-sized mattress in a guest bedroom. It’s possible that part of Juniper’s moodiness owes to her having some mild joint issues. They’re typical for her breed, and she doesn’t appear to be in active discomfort most of the time, but she’s a real sucker for warmth and softness in a way that makes me think she would love the chance to float weightlessly from time to time, freed if only for a moment from the inevitability of Earth.

Juniper, a dog, still in her puppy era, puts a paw to her face in a manner that seems like she is feigning shock. Revisiting Juniper’s puppy photos is always slightly disconcerting. For some reason, my brain doesn’t register that puppies are young dogs in the way that I intuitively understand that children are young humans. Puppy Juniper both is and is not the moody beast I know today. She both is and is not the goofy weirdo I knew then. I recognize her, but it’s still shocking how much of a metamorphosis takes place during maturation. It shouldn’t be shocking, it’s the most natural thing in the world, but the storytelling part of my brain is so much more comfortable with pets being static and unchanging over time than it is with having known Juniper when she was this tiny. This sense of chronological uncanniness isn’t helped by our having rescued Barley just as she was finishing adolescence, meaning that she has always been within a few pounds of her current weight, making her much more plausible in my mind as an eternal, unchanging being.

Juniper, a dog, sleeps on a person’s bed, snuggled up to a rumpled heap of throw blanket. Even now as she enters middle age, Juniper is still so baby to me, much more so than Barley. I think it’s largely to do with how dainty and sensitive she is, but she’s also very attached. She knows where home is, and who home is, and seems to draw much comfort from the intersection of the two.

Juniper, a dog, holds her beloved squirrel toy in her mouth as she eyes the camera with considerable intensity. With all this talk of Juniper’s tiny chipmunks, which I mistook for squirrels, I felt the need to remind everyone that Juniper also has a squirrel. It is much beloved, an object that she insists on protecting. Sometimes, she will see the squirrel out for comfort, but usually, someone else retrieves the squirrel, and it then becomes Juniper’s mission to bring it to a place of safety and security (usually, her crate). She does not bring the squirrel outside. Only world-hardened mad lads like her monkey get to accompany her on her patrols of her territory.

Juniper, a dog, sprawls awkwardly against Barley, another dog, as the two ride in the back seat of a car. It’s been nearly five years since Barley and Juniper have cohabitated, but the memories of their silly times together remain strong. Ultimately, I think each is very happy and settled in their respective lives, as I’m not persuaded that they really “miss” each other in the sense two humans would. Each lives mainly in the moment, after all. And yet, I feel somehow responsible for the emotions they cannot feel, that I somehow have an obligation to miss the “them” of their being a duo on their behalf. Quite literally, they don’t know what they’re missing. But I do.

Juniper, a dog, lies contentedly in a yard of patchy grass with a tennis ball between her front paws. As a dog with a well-defined turf and a duty to protect the homestead, Juniper shows a clear preference in how she relaxes in the yard. She keeps the house to her back, such that she can glance back only if needed. This lets her scan the yard to her left and her right, while keeping her front view faces towards a potential Wally encounter.

Juniper, a dog, holds one of her tiny toy chipmunks in her mouth. Two others lie beside her, as does the “hollow log” that the ‘munks can be stuffed into. Juniper remains a big fan of her trio of chipmunks. She has now learned how to play “rescue” with the hollow log that te chipmunks came with. She will watch intently as the chipmunks are stuffed into the log and, upon being given the green light, she then enthusiastically paws and snuffles about to extract each of the chipmunks in turn from inside the log. I presume this satisfies some deep, inscrutable hunting dog urge to pursue prey that have gone to ground, but she remains adorably gentle with her ‘munks otherwise.

Juniper, a dog, yawns, inadvertently revealing her mouth full of sharp teeth. I love a good picture of a dog caught mid-yawn, because on the one hand, it’s a completely benign behavior by a sleepy creature who feels safe, and on the other, it’s a reminder of the formidable Natural Attacks that dogs possess. The depicted yawn is a particular favorite, because this squinty, effortful yawn has the look of the full-throated scream of a rock vocalist belting out the chorus, while also being situated in the context of surroundings that are only soft and comfy.

Juniper, a dog, reacts to a scene in Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004) in which the title character’s dog (not pictured) has just been kicked off a bridge. Juniper does not seem to have understood the events in the scene, displaying enthusiasm for whatever is going on. Broadly speaking, Juniper’s preferred genres are sitcoms and baking shows. She likes shows that are bright, with expressive actors who have upbeat energy. Sitcoms in particular have the advantage that while the characters are over the top, the budget usually limits things to relatively simple camera moves and relatively few special effects. Also, the most intense negative emotions (blind rage, intense pain, extreme fear) are all generally off the table. Action movies, by contrast, are too high-energy, dramas are fine but a little boring, and horror movies stress her out vicariously because she keys into how stressed out the audience gets. Even so, it’s pretty clear that as much as she loves television, she’s not following the action the way we are. These photos were captured because the people watching the film knew this scene was coming and wanted to see how she would react, and the entire room had to pause the film to laugh it off because her reaction was one of unqualified and clearly non-comprehending enthusiasm.

Juniper, a dog, rests her head on a very firm and lofty pillow while relaxing on the guest bed. In contrast to Barley’s “I’ll just plop down right here and then figure out what I’m doing later” approach to soft surfaces, Juniper’s meticulous and calculating approach to everything shows through in the ways she seem to “use” the features of those surfaces. She’s picky about getting things ‘just so,’ pawing and fussing if they’re not in a good configuration and finally settling into what seems like very deliberate poses.

Juniper, a dog, lies atop, and sinks into, the very lofty comforter atop a queen-size bed in an AirBnB bedroom. During a trip taken earlier this year, Juniper stayed in a dog-friendly AirBnB. I’m told that, upon arriving in the unfamiliar space, she no sooner had her harness removed before tearing off to explore the house and disappearing from view. Minutes later, she was found as you see her here, apparently committing early to which bedroom she wanted to claim for herself.

Juniper, a dog, rests her head on a sofa cushion and her blankie, and sleeps soundly. One of the curious consequences of Juniper being an anxious dog in general is that it’s very easy to tell when she feels safe and able to relax. Her most blissful quietude is achieved when she’s lying beside her Person, with some gently non-confronting television playing in the background, and she can slip into the deep sleep of a dog who is letting someone else keep watch.

Juniper, a dog, sits by the window and looks at the camera with one of her tiny chipmunk toys between her front paws. Juniper gives the chipmunk a little affectionate sniff/nuzzle with her snoot. Since posting about them a couple months ago, I have since been informed that Juniper’s tiny toy friends are in fact chipmunks, not squirrels. Regardless, she remains a big fan of them, carrying them gently by the scruff from place to place and keeping them near as she keeps watch out the window, or watches television, or naps. She is gentle with them even relative to her other stuffed toys (all of which are handled far more delicately than Barley ever would). So, I am convinced that in her fundamentally doggy way, she perceived the chipmunks as Baby.

Juniper, a dog, is lying on the bed and, let’s be honest, scowling at the camera. She seems very cross, despite having her squirrel and her shark as company. A long-time fan of this page asked me the other day, “Is Juniper… depressed?” While I don’t think that’s the case, she is certainly a dogs with big moods that she wears on her sleeve. When she’s had enough of something (whatever it might be), she quietly exits and recharges her batteries somewhere more peaceful. When she’s tired but also feels the need to remain vigilant, she takes on a long-suffering expression that we have referred to for years as “boo boo face.” Here, we one such instance. Look at her, being a huge boo boo. Not pictured is the party currently unfolding elsewhere in the house that is too noisy and boisterous for Juniper’s liking, so much so that she can’t really get much respite from it even by retreating to the guest room.

Juniper, a dog, stands on a carpet and calmly examines the photographer. If you spend any time at all around Juniper, you will notice right away that she is observing. All the time. She might be watching out the window, or watching television, but if you’re a guest, she’s probably going to be observing you. Her capacity for scrutiny is bottomless, and she gives the impression she’s always cogitating hard about whatever she’s observing. Importantly, her default position toward guests isn’t territorial or grumpy, strictly. It’s just watchful, and patient.

Juniper, a dog, sits before a fence with a tennis ball at her feet, and looks back over her shoulder at the camera. Every once in a while, Juniper will get a chance to growl and bark at Wally, the doofy golden retriever next door, as the two run back and forth along the fence at one another until one or both dogs are called back inside. But those encounters are sporadic, and days or weeks might pass without them happening to not be in their respective yards at the same time. Sometimes, Juniper can be found, sitting and watching the fence, perhaps with a ball, or perhaps with her monkey, seeming to wait and see if Wally will appear.

Juniper, a dog, snoozes on a nondescript sofa, her head resting on a dark gray pillow. Juniper doesn’t travel super often, but overall, she’s a pretty easy travel companion. While in the car, her main concern is being close to her humans, which the close quarters of car travel provide automatically. Walks and accommodations are a little more involved: While her desire to be good generally keeps her on the straight and narrow, it’s clear that being in unfamiliar spaces and landscapes stresses her out, especially if she needs to be left on her own for short stretches. The net result is that by day’s end, she’s usually plum tuckered out, as seen here.

Juniper, a dog, sits expectantly with her monkey in front of a television on which a documentary is playing. Juniper loves watching television, but it often gets her wound up. I’ve documented her various attempts to scare away Screen Beasts, but often it’s just a matter of things on screen being too high energy and her needing to burn that off somehow. Here, some manner of “crowd goes wild” mirth got her all wound up, so she decided to frolic a bit with her monkey (to the audible delight of those present). After a bit of hoppy, chompy nonsense, she settled back into watching the show again.

Juniper, a dog, watches television with her new friend, a comically tiny squirrel toy. Because Juniper is so meticulous and dainty with her toys, with no apparent interest in treating them like prey, she can be trusted with toys that would normally be a bit on the small side for a dog of her size. Recently, she was gifted a hollow cloth log and three tiny squirrels that can be stuffed into the log to subsequently be extracted. She apparently loves these tiny new friends. While they haven’t dethroned Husky as Juniper’s most devoted companion, she seems to like having one of her squirrels around when watching TV for some reason.

Juniper, a dog, lies in her crate, over which a knitted blanker is draped. She watches from the darkness intently. When Juniper is deep in her feelings, she likes to have little timeouts in her crate. Since there’s never occasion to close the door, and because of the blanket draped over it, it’s a dark, comfy zone she can count on. She’s begun to take breaks in there more often since it was repositioned in such a way that, from where she is lying in the photo, she has an unobstructed view of the television.

Juniper, a dog, gazes contentedly up from her giant bed, in the company of her squirrel and her husky. We will never fully understand the intricate nuances of Juniper’s relationships with her beloved toys. Given her disposition, I’m inclined to interpret her approach less as hosting a tea party for her stuffies, and more as plotting courtly intrigues with them. It’s less a guest/host dynamic and more of a family affair.

Juniper, a dog, has a single paw before her as she gazes piercingly into the camera. When we first met Juniper and decided to rescue her, the thing that set her apart from the other young puppies in her litter was her intense, focused eye contact. Even at 14 weeks old, she was not locking eyes with her siblings, or with the other dogs from the shelter. She was interested in humans, she needed to know more about humans. To this day, she understands that the eyes are the most important part of a person to scrutinize, and if you meet her gaze you can almost feel her gears turning as she evaluates whatever it is that you’re up to.

Juniper, a dog, is glimpsed through a window lying on a deck and surveying her domain. She has brought one her toys with her to do so. Several people have independently described Juniper as “cat-like” in various respects, and an important aspect of this is her level of solitary independence. Yes, she has her moments of wanting to be close and snuggly, but she also has her own agenda and her own priorities. Who can say what inspires her to take up a shift of watching the back yard? What inspires her to rise, satisfied by a job well done, and return inside with her toy? I’ll tell you this much: She had no idea she was being observed when this photo was taken!

Juniper, a dog, fully arrays herself across the pillows of a guest bed and bleps with visible exhaustion. The holidays are a stressful time! A sensitive soul like Juniper, in particular, needs to take her share of breaks during such a time. Thankfully, she’s a master of self-regulation, and when she’s had her fill of the frolicking, she makes a quiet exit and zonks out in an empty corner of the house for a bit to recharge her batteries.

Juniper, a dog, is curled up against her husky toy, forming a smaller dog orb resting upon a larger dog bed orb. Juniper is no stranger to doing a big lean against someone and getting a big hug, but she’s plenty crafty enough to make use of her surroundings to be gently snugged from all sides. I think, if she could manage it, she would welcome the opportunity to float weightless in snugspace, hugged by the universe.

Juniper, a dog, is bundled up warm in a white-and-baby-blue snowflake-themed blankie. As much as Juniper likes to maintain her vigil atop the sofa, watching out the window, even proper double-paned glass can only do so much to keep out the cold. When it’s chilly outside, she quite likes being pampered with something snuggly.

Juniper, a dog, smiles while at the vet. It’s a nervous smile. Juniper has always been very well-behaved at the vet, but she does not enjoy it. She is docile, compliant, and (as a rule) shaking like a leaf the whole time. And, given how much less food motivated she is than Barley, she can’t even be bribed with treats into having a good time! Fortunately, as COVID restrictions have lifted, she no longer needs to be dropped off and left behind with strangers. Going through it with a familiar human in the room helps her a lot.

LEFT: Barley, a dog, poses with clay likenesses of herself and Juniper. RIGHT: Juniper, a dog, poses with clay likenesses of herself and Barley. Closeup of Barley and Juniper’s claysonas, with Barley peering from the background. Closeup of Juniper and Barley’s claysonas, with Juniper frolicking in the background. I am happy to report that the absolutely adorable likenesses that were commissioned from Wolf & Ghostling have safely arrived at their respective destinations, and now safely reside with the pups they depict. I remain entirely pleased with the whole experience, and encourage everyone to marvel at their prior photoshoots. Separated as they are by thousands of miles, who can say when these puppers will next see one another in person? But at least they are together in spirit, and in clay.

Juniper, a dog, looks excitedly at a television showing an Animal Crossing character catching a whale shark. Juniper’s a big fan of television, but she’s gradually become more comfortable watching video games. So long as the visuals aren’t too frenetic or the action too loud, she’ll keep an eye on things. In keeping with her long-standing suspicion about fish-like screen beasts, however, she definitely needed to protect the homestead against this whale shark. After all, if they can leave the ocean, none of us are safe!

Juniper, a dog, sits on an expanse of grass and glances back at the camera over her left shoulder. My experience of keep up with Juniper’s life is very singular, because she warms up to people slowly and is wary of strangers. I have this guarantee that I will always be one of Her People, and so I can easily imagine being the viewer to whom she confides by breaking the fourth wall. This photo feels like a shared confidence. Knowing her as I do, however, I can guarantee that she would never address an approaching stranger in such a familiar way. To an outsider, I might imagine her voiceover instead asking, “…And you are?”

Juniper, a dog, sits on the grass in a yard and scans her surroundings while holding a tennis ball in her mouth. Patrolling the grounds is a regular part of Juniper’s routine, and even when the weather is a little rainy, she’ll still stick her head out briefly to check on the yard and make sure everything is as it should be. Partly, this dutiful reliability stems from her deep need to be a Dog With A Job, but there is also an architectural reason for it: Unlike the front yard, which she can survey from the comfort of the living room couch, there aren’t any windows through which she can get a clear view of the back yard for various reasons. So, the only way to really be sure that the homestead is safe from invaders is to venture forth and check for herself.

Juniper, a puppy, lies with her upper body beneath a bed. She has twisted her body into a J shape to peer back out past the fringe of the hanging sheet. An early sign that puppy Juniper might be growing into nervous Nelliehood was how much she enjoyed wedging herself under a low bed. Sometimes, you would walk into the room to see just a single foot sticking out; other times, her whole rump would still be exposed. She ended up getting the nickname “wormshark” because she seemed really enthusiastic about belly-crawling and generally wormin’ around under that bed, as well as doing the same under a weighted blanket, while leaving distinctive bodyparts visible above the figurative water line, Jaws-like.

Juniper, a dog, noodles around in the ankle-deep water of a kiddie pool laid out on a big, brown lawn. Juniper’s experiences with being in deep water have been almost exclusively negative. She can swim, but as soon as she can’t feel the bottom, no thank you, time to head back to shore. She does, however, really enjoy being in shallow water, especially if it doesn’t make any sudden moves. On hot days, she’s very good at keeping herself busy, staring into the glimmer of the waves she makes with her little tippy taps.

Juniper, a dog, eats a large carrot with tiny, dainty nibbles. Juniper, a dog, makes incremental progress on her carrot, leaving many morsels by the wayside. Juniper’s overall level of daintiness is ridiculous, but her approach to carrots is especially royal. Over an extended periods, she will carefully nibble away the carrot, seeming to consider whether each morsel is acceptable. Some, she deems tasty and chews contentedly. Others fall from her mouth, never to be retrieved. She’s very pleased to be given a carrot, and proceeds in this manner becalmed for quite a long time, but the mess she leaves behind could strike fear into even the most hardened crudité.

Juniper, a dog, is curled up on a lap. She is very small, and extremely puppy. Juniper is a rescue, but unlike most rescues, she was born in the shelter. As such, she was as fresh-faced and puppy as they come when she was rescued. She and her ten litter-mates were bumbling around an enclosure when we met her, as part of a larger adoption event involving dozens of dogs. Even then, she was different. In that chaotic scene of puppies playing, most of her siblings were keenly interested in all the other dogs that were around, so much so that they’d barely look at you. Juniper, instead, was interested in the people. “Who are you?” she seemed to ask with huge, piercing eyes. It quickly became a mutual fascination.

Juniper, a dog, peers at the viewer through a gauzy curtain. Since becoming the undisputed queen of Big Couch, Juniper’s perch has become indispensable to her role as a lookout. She can often be found, holding vigil, between the sheer curtain and the window itself. Consistent with her reputation as a meticulous pup, she has been very good at slipping around the curtain, never stepping on it in a way that would pull it down. Contrastingly, chances are good that Barley would have torn the curtain rod mount out of the wall by now.

Juniper, a dog, lies atop a bed on her side next to Barley, another dog. Both are in the same position, their bodies aligned. It’s still shocking to me when I reflect on how long it has been since Barley and Juniper were in the same physical space as one another. Once upon a time, they lived as sisters, as one another’s found family. As different as their personalities have always been, they were thick as thieves. Each has a good life today, rich with creature comforts, and I don’t doubt that we’ve done right by them. Still, I can’t help but wonder: When Barley sleeps, does she remember? Can she in dreams revisit a memory of sleeping beside her sister?

Juniper, a dog, wiggles on her back on a big soft bed. Whereas Barley has taken to wiggling hither, thither, indoors, and out, Juniper has a more delicate sensibility. A wiggle is a matter to be undertaken privately, in one’s bedchambers, on a suitable surface. Less a twist than a sway, less a juke than a shimmy, Juniper’s wiggles are downright dainty.

Juniper, a dog, looks up very blearily from the back seat before returning to a deep vehicular slumber. Hardly an enthusiastic window-peerer to begin with, Juniper find highway driving to be especially snooze-inducing. On the one hand, she seems to find the imagery whipping past to be a little unsettling, but on the other, the rumbling hum of the road seems to sooth her. The upshot is that I’ve never seen this ordinarily vigilant dog as fully zonked out as she is when the car stops for gas on a long car ride.

Juniper, a dog, watches television. The closed captioning reads, “You deserve happiness, as do I.” Watching television is a consistent part of Juniper’s routine. After a busy day of (a) scoping out the front yard though windows and (b) patrolling the perimeter of the back yard, she enjoys calm, talky, colorful television. Action & science fiction tend to stress her out - she’ll slink off and chill in a quieter room if things are too dynamic. If there are Screen Beasts, well, it’s back into Protec & Intimidat Mode. But she seems to find sitcoms, cooking shows, and character dramas soothing, and she seems to attentively follow along for long stretches of time.

Juniper, a dog, presents a handsome profile as she looks out the window from a room lit with warm yellow light and into a yard lit with bright, pale sunlight. Setting aside how regal and dignified Juniper is at her most contemplative, I love the interplay of light in this photo. The sharper edges drawn by the sun on her snout fade as we follow the line of her body back into a part of the room less directly in the sun’s path, while the contours of the rest of her body are revealed by the ambient light of the room she is in. The manner in which this both reveals all the details in the photo without being washed out provides some important clues on how to photograph things lit from the side by the sun without losing half their details to shadow.

Juniper, a dog, rests on an enormous yellow beanbag in front of a blue wall. Same photo, but reimagined as the cover of Dune (1965). Much has been made of the AirBnB aesthetic as a slightly uncanny middle ground between the vacant anonymity of a hotel and the lived-in homeyness of someone’s actual home. For my part, I don’t find that aesthetic as worthy of derision as some others; I’m OK with someone trying to make a space seem nice without also feeling like I’m on a guided tour of the inside of their head. That said, I was very struck by the color scheme of the attached photo when I received it, and imagined that perhaps Juniper is dreaming of an ocean of sand in which she is an enormous beast and is worshipped as a demigod.

Juniper, a dog, delivers a submissive grin to the camera as she glances away from the rocky beach she overlooks. This summer has afforded Juniper several opportunities to deepen her relationship with the sea. For the most part, this has been valuable growth, and she enjoys approaching the water under the right conditions (accompanied by her people, without big waves and with a shallow grade). Her early life experience of being chased by waves as big as herself has not been forgotten, however, and sometimes she’s still nervous at the water’s edge. Here, we see her signalling, “This is plenty close enough, thank youuuuuu!”

Juniper, a dog, balances on her hind legs as she watches to see whether a tennis ball offscreen will be thrown up or out into the yard behind her. Unsurprisingly, Juniper loves fetch. Her instincts to sprint and pursue are strong, but beyond that she Wants To Help with every fiber of her being, so she lives for the enthusiastic praise she receives when she brings the ball back. Being the smartie that she is, it’s important to mix things up, so sometimes the ball gets tossed up instead of forward. While Juniper’s not particularly good at catching a ball in midair, she does what she can. If the ball’s trajectory is especially vertical and she catches it right next to you, the need to run remains unsatisfied and she’ll take the ball for a little victory sprint before returning it for the next toss.

Juniper, a dog, rests atop a plush shark tow, atop a pillow, atop a dog bed, atop a sofa. Juniper, a dog, gently fusses with her plush shark toy. The condition of Baby Shark is all the more remarkable when you consider that is has been a beloved toy of Juniper’s for very nearly her entire life, now over 6 years. Such is her care in handling it: She carries it by the scruff and doesn’t roughhouse with it. She’ll gently fuss over it and reposition it with her paws and mouth, then vibe with it like a childhood friend.

Juniper, a dog, sleeps in a snuggly loaf atop her comically large and soft dog bed, in the company of her beloved plush toy named Husky. As big a game as Juniper presents to strangers in her yard and beasts on the screen, she reveals, in the vulnerability of sleep, what a fundamentally soft creature she is. While her weight is typical for her a dog her size, she has a lot of excess skin, especially around her neck. Perhaps the world of her dreams a little softer than ours.

Juniper, a dog, stands on a floating dock and peers out across the water. As suspicious as Juniper is of the beach, you would think that she dislikes the sea. On the contrary - it is the waterline that she mistrusts, always ebbing and flowing and completely unresponsive to biting. Get her on a floating dock, and we learn that Juniper finds being out over the water enthralling. She has not, so far as I’m told, ever jumped in. She instead scans the horizon, and all the shimmering taking place between it and herself.

Juniper and Barley, two dogs, sit on a turn in the stairs and observe from on high. As much fun as I like to have contrasting Barley and Juniper’s distinctive personalities, there’s no denying that in their years together, they nevertheless shared many traits and habits. In addition to being almost exactly the same size (to within 2 pounds or so), they were very in tune with us and with one another, following the perceived ebb and flow of the pack. As such, despite seeing the world very differently, each was also willing to go along with the other’s preoccupations to some degree - team players despite sometimes playing completely different sports.

Juniper, a puppy, wrestles with Kona, another puppy. Juniper was the smallest puppy in a litter of eleven who were born into the shelter from which we adopted her. At a scant 16 weeks of age, she was taking frequent walks around the apartment complex where we were living at the time. One such sunny day, a guy walking a puppy of his own spotted me from a distance, then ran over to me and shouted, with clear enthusiasm, “Is that a Fairy puppy?!” Indeed it was, for Fairy was Juniper’s black mouth cur mother. Kona, the dark-snouted pup tusslin’ with Juniper in this photo, is Juniper’s brother, born in the same litter. The mutual recognition was immediate and they started bumbling all over one another with such vigor that we let them both off leash so they wouldn’t tie each other into a puppy knot. As it turns out, another couple in the complex had coincidentally adopted Kona from the same shelter, and having spotted us in the distance, his owner decided, correctly, that the pups looked similar enough to ask. Ultimately, Juniper and Kona never spent all that much time together. They would see one another around the property from time to time, but before long everyone had moved away from that apartment complex anyway. Nevertheless, their few brief orbits around one another before their paths diverged was one of the factors that inspired us to consider adopting a second dog soon. Barley joined us only a few…

Juniper, a dog, is snuggled up with Barley, another dog, on a dog beg that is made extra-comfy by an additional pillow. It’s wild to think that this photo is from over 5 years ago. Eagle-eyed fans will notice both that Barley is not yet wearing her signature high-viz collar, nor does Juniper have any gray around her snout at all. Here, we see the adoptive sisters after living together for mere weeks, and over a year before they would eventually be separated by thousands of miles. Each is now living a full and exciting life on their respective coast, but I can’t help but be nostalgic for that period in their then-young lives when they were thick as thieves.

Juniper, a dog, bleps ever so slightly when presented with a dog treat decorated to commemorate her birthday. As noted the day of on a recent BarleyPost, it was also Juniper’s birthday recently, and in the last week I have come into possession of this delightful bit of photo evidence of her own celebration at the time. This photo subtextually tells us a lot about the difference between Barley and Juniper. When you proffer a treat unto Barley, her eyes lock onto the treat, glancing back at you only occasionally to see what you might do with it. When you proffer a treat unto Juniper, her eyes focus squarely on you instead of the treat.

Juniper, a dog, snoozes in a nest of blankets with her plushie, Husky. Juniper is a dog with a job, and her various toys are similarly delegated particular tasks. One such toy, a monkey, joins her on expeditions into the yard to patrol the property. Husky, by contrast, is her most trusted comfort object, a soothing presence that she treat with a level of care and deference that has no equal among her toys. Juniper has never once taken Husky outside, and will seek him out in times of stress. Barley and Juniper unambiguously like the toys the play with, but I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that Juniper loves Husky.

Juniper, a dog, is unsure what to make of a trio of lion cubs on a television screen. Dogs seem to be pretty good at recognizing when other mammals are juveniles. I have it on good authority that Juniper did not display the same level of reflective aggression she normally brings to her confrontation with screen beasts when these bumbling lion cubs came on screen.

Juniper, a dog, wears a tiara with pink gems and feather accents. While Juniper is more enthusiastic than most puppers to runway some fashion, even she has her limits. I would describe her experience with headwear of any sort as “tolerant” at best. That said, she does want very badly to be a Good Girl, so it doesn’t take much convincing to get her to showcase the latest accessories.

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.”

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.

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.

Juniper, a dog, stands in the sun near a fence with a pensive look. Juniper’s yard is separated from that of a neighbor by a tall fence through which only narrow diagonal sightlines are possible. From time to time, a neighbor’s dog named Wally will bumble out and scamper about on the other side of this fence, eliciting a whole song and dance from Juniper. Rumbling and grumbling, she’ll zoom back and forth along the relevant stretch of the perimeter, kicking up mulch as she does so. (The pavers in the picture keep her from scrabbling at the base of the fence itself.) For his part, Wally seems to find this to be great fun, matching her energy if not her tone.

Juniper, a dog, snuggles into a comically oversized dog bed with her Adult Shark toy. Not long after Juniper came into possession of Baby Shark, her collection was bolstered by Adult Shark, another long-time companion who she like to bring with her to nap with. Here, the pair are depicted sharing Juniper’s legitimately ridiculous dog bed, a veritable cloud of softness into which she loves to squrim and coil up into a little ball.

Juniper, a dog, lazes atop an oversized leather couch, giving her a clear view out the window. One of Juniper’s favorite posts (and I say post because, never forget, she’s a Dog With A Job in her own mind) is keeping watch from atop the sofa where it abuts the wall. Overstuffed as it is, there’s just enough of a surface for her to lie on comfortably and sleep, and this position also affords her a clear and elevated view of most of the block. Nobody’s crossing this property’s perimeter undetected!

Juniper, a dog, relaxes in the grass with a tennis ball clutched in a toothy grin. Juniper, a dog, pants happily in the Florida heat. In keeping with her habit of treating toys as objects of affection and comfort, Juniper will often take her ball with her from place to place. She’ll do this whether or not people are home, almost as if she’s giving the ball a tour as she patrols. She’s no stranger to fetch, of course, and will sometimes signal her desire to Give Chase, but in this instance, she was simply discovered to have posted up with ball in a grassy expanse, doing so before any humans in the house had even thought to look for her outside.

Juniper, a dog, sports a beige cable-knit sweater with which she is quite happy. Juniper’s relationship to fashion is very funny to watch. When you show her that she’s going to wear her sweater, she gets very excited and playful. She then will happily wear the sweater for long stretches. And then, when the sweater comes off, she has a fresh round of playful, happy excitement. So, really, putting a sweater on her is all upside. Well, so long as she doesn’t take it outside and get a bunch of dirt and mulch all over it.

Juniper, a wee pup, snuggles with her first ever plush friend, a “baby” shark. Unlike Barley, Juniper was born in a shelter and was less than 4 months old when we rescued her. She was born in a little of 11 puppies, all of whom went up for adoption at the same time. We knew she was special right away because her many siblings focused their attention on the other dogs that were around us, but Juniper focused her attention on the humans instead. The entire time we’ve known her, she’s never not been trying to suss out what’s going on. One of her first toys, which she has taken care of all this time and still treasures to this day, was the above “baby shark.”

Juniper, a dog, needs to get a close look at the rat that has appeared on the television. Juniper watches television with more intensity than any other dog I’ve known. Often, this will involve long stretches of wide-eyed, motionless appraisal, but when a screen beast appears, she is on the case and gets right up to the TV to get the measure of this apparition. It’s not altogether clear how she assesses the beastly nature of a screen beast. Fur or feathers are obvious features, but she is also very interested in (read: concerned about) larger sea creatures whose bodies are smooth. If her viewing is perturbed too frequently by screen beasts, she will retire to her chambers to unwind.

Juniper, a dog, settles in for a nap atop the rump of Barley, another dog. As amusing as last week’s photo was, I don’t want anyone to come to the conclusion that the relationship between Barley and Juniper was always adversarial. Here, we see the overall vibe after Barley had been with us for about two weeks. At this point, Barley’s adoption had been finalized and the two had settled into their shared routine. The profound differences in their perception of the world never seemed to interfere with their mutual acceptance as pack members.

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.

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.