I Wanna Eat The Sun

Greg Jensen
dogs of cohost pitbull
Barley, a dog, walks past a mysterious pile of *something* that is covered in a heavy green plastic tarp, the entire perimeter of which is weighed down by large, flat stones.

Barley, a dog, stands on a wooden deck in the late afternoon and faces the sun.

Barley, a dog, walks past a mysterious pile of *something* that is covered in a heavy green plastic tarp, the entire perimeter of which is weighed down by large, flat stones.

Barley closes her eyes and extends her tongue, making a little blep.

Barley, a dog, walks past a mysterious pile of *something* that is covered in a heavy green plastic tarp, the entire perimeter of which is weighed down by large, flat stones.

Barley looks away from the sun and extends her tongue more fully, touching her nose.

Barley will quite often, stop and deliver these thousand-yard stares that appear very thoughtful. It’s only by watching her nose and the subtle rhythm of her ribcage to see that she’s probably not looking at all, but is instead smelling. Indeed, she almost always does this facing into the wind, it’s just that the air motion can be so subtle as to hardly register as a breeze if you aren’t paying attention. Having given a sufficient sniff, the tongue must do its thing, and reset her sniffer for maximum acuity.