Max, a scruffy terrier with eyebrows that moved like two independent caterpillars, had a secret life. By day, he was a couch potato, his biggest decision being which sunbeam to nap in. But by night—or rather, by the quiet hours between The Ellen Show ending and his owner, Chloe, falling asleep with her phone on her face—Max was a digital connoisseur.

He looked back at the sleeping Chloe, then at the phone. He had exactly fifteen minutes before her alarm went off. Enough time for one more video.

The deepest corner of the site was a forum: “Midnight Puddle Club.” Anonymous dogs shared the location of the best damp patches of grass in the city. There was a review of a fire hydrant on 4th Street ( “Great pressure, terrible sightlines for oncoming pugs” ). There was a heated debate on the proper technique for turning a single piece of dropped popcorn into a three-course meal.