Barnaby was like a mood, a fragrance of the harmonious inner life, permeating everything with which he came into contact. He knew sorrow and he knew joy, and he held them in a delicate balance of serenity and peace. He knew how to respond equally joyfully to an invitation to walk or talk or sit together, which seems to me to be a particular kind of training in grace -- a willingness to respond easily and happily to even the most modest adventure together. Perhaps it could be said that within his framework of being a dog, he lived life as a spiritual exercise.
Silence before God has deep significance: in the quietness of the soul the individual sinks into the central fire of communion... In the silent act of breathing and in the unspoken dialogue of the soul with God, solitary as these are, deep communion can be given.