3 min read

Is your pet a micro-decorator?

Rabbit beneath the branches of a Christmas tree.
Drift Maria under the tree, Christmas 2021

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Having a pet is an eye-opener if you're sensitive to interior space. If it's new, it makes you rejig your habits to accommodate a fellow creature. And if you've had it for ages, it's still likely challenging you to see your dwelling from another point of view.

First, there's a shift in scale. Your pet is small, reminding you of what it was like to see the world as a child, from the ground up, with everything towering over you. My brother's rabbit Drift, for example, takes you down to carpet-level basics, where coziness begins:

Close up of Drift from a carpet-level point of view.

From this perspective, the legs of tables and chairs are a forest, with all kinds of possibilities for creative poses:

Drift with legs outstretched, resting amid the legs of tables and chairs.

It's a way of going back to the time when the world of adults was gigantic, and building a blanket fort seemed like a sensible way of remaking the world to your liking.

Pets don't just alter your vantage point, they make an attempt at claiming your whole interior as a pet-centric universe. In my youngest brother's Los Angeles home, Bebe and Luki arrange themselves like living sculptures, fluidly complementing the modernist architecture:

Two black cats, one fluffy, one sleek, in a modernist interior.

Their expressions remind you that it's actually all about them. In their languid and restful postures, they're constantly proposing new forms of comfort.

It's tempting to help them along with building snug arrangements:

Luki on a bed with several stuffed animals at his side.

But it's best to let them discover just the right spot on their own:

Luki on top of some folded towels.

I grew up with cats, so I know how crafty they can be in uncovering new and unlikely territories for relaxing. It always felt like a form of subtle critique, a way of telling me to slow down and appreciate the less cherished corners of home.

Although I've never owned a dog, I live in an apartment building full of them, a population that seemed to grow during the pandemic. I enjoy observing them take their humans out for walks. That constant pull to go out in the wild must be a game changer for people whose hound is their very first.

This past weekend, I discovered a coffee table book called Resident Dog, showcasing stunning images by Australian photographer Nicole England. It's full of visual insights on how luxurious homes gain a down-to-earth vibe when a dog enters the scene:

Book cover, Resident Dog volume one, showing a dog on a modern staircase.

It has a second volume as well:

Book cover, Resident Dog volume two, showing a dog in a modern living room.

I love England's shot of a dog named Maybe poking through an opening behind a wall unit:

Resident Dog photo by Nicole England, showing a dog poking through an opening behind a wall unit,
Photo by Nicole England

Carefully arranged keepsakes seem staid when confronted with a dog's energy. There's a wall-busting force in its constant need to explore.

The dogs I see in my neighbourhood seem intent on making every sidewalk, every lamppost, every park, an extension of home. There's a lesson in that too, about how a home's boundaries are more flexible than you think. Let's thank our pets for co-designing our spaces in delightful ways.

Over to you

This week's topic was suggested by a loyal reader – thank you! I'm curious who else has thoughts on the home-altering effect of pets. Has your pet made you change your decor or see your space differently? Let me know and it may be fuel for a future issue.

Thank you for reading.