Barley, a dog, ignores two white flowers as she sniffs within a patch of ferns. I don’t doubt that Barley can smell the nectar in the flowers she passes, but I’ll be darned if she’s ever given a single hoot about them. For all her olfactory orientation, her relationship with smells remains strictly instrumental, and the beauty we humans discern in a flower is entirely lost on her. Instead, she is a connoisseur of occult aromas, of secret bouquets of another sort that our human languages will never even begin to have the words to describe.

Barley, a dog, is fully relaxed atop a throw pillow. Barley, a dog, makes a big smile while being scritched in just the right way. Barley loves the opportunity provided by a long phone call. She’ll laze on the futon next to me as I provide relaxing, low-energy scritches with my free hand, drifting in and out of sleep. Every once in a while, some particularly choice spot will elicit wakefulness and a big smile, even as the rest of her muscles remain slack as a sack of cooked noodles.

Barley, a dog, wedges her snout into a ventilation gap along the edge of a building’s foundation. It never fails. Every time our semi-random peregrinations take us past this particular spot, Barley is compelled by odors I will never know to wedge her snout into this aperture and breathe deeply from the darkness contained therein. I suppose I should be grateful it’s just a touch too narrow for her entire head, or else she might begin a journey into the very earth itself.

Barley, a dog, squints up through beaming sunshine on a wooden deck, in the company of one of her Stella seahorse toys. We’re finally, finally starting to get nice days from time to time, after what feels like months of drawn out dreariness. While the full-throated warmth of summer sunshine is still a ways off, I don’t doubt that Barley is keen to resume her worship of the celestial orb.

Barley, a dog, sleeps in the sun atop a futon, with all four paws brought together in front of her. Barley manages to fall asleep in a variety of poses, but my very favorite is when she has just the right combination of head support and back support to bring all of her paws together in a little bundle. Just curled enough to be cozy, just loose enough to signal that she’s sufficiently warm. The apex of snoozing.

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.

Barley, a dog, scrutinizes a patch of tall, dry grass. As much of a sniffer as she is, Barley will occasionally give something the most intense eyeballing. When she stopped by this thicket, rather than wedge her nose in like I was expecting, she dropped her snout and peered with steely intensity into its recesses. This went on for a while, and even as I snapped a pic, I wondered if she was about to make some move on a concealed critter. But, the moment passed, and she moved on, so we’ll never know if it was empty or if some concealed creature beat her at a staring contest.

Barley, a dog, gazes into the eyes of one of her toys, a blue creature that just barely qualifies as a pig. From time to time, I catch myself realizing that dogs are not burdened in the ways we are by the sense that something is “wrong.” When I saw this approximate pig at the store, my first reaction was that it must have been designed by a space alien whose only description of a pig came from a medieval manuscript. But upon further reflection, it occurs to me that there’s no way Barley would care, or even notice, that this is a “wrong pig.” So, meet Hieronymus, Barley’s newest toy and escapee from the Garden of Earthly Delights.

Barley, a dog, bellyflops into lush grass to shed some heat. I tire of this still dreary weather, so I cast my mind to warmer days; warm enough that Barley, indefatigable though she may be, needed to use her “belly on the cool grass” trick to take a breather. This Florida dog knows how to beat the heat!

Barley, a dog, braces herself to chomp at incoming waves on a rocky beach. Barley’s experience of the river may have been an anxiety-provoking experience for her, but she’s always seemed excited to visit the beach. Certainly, it’s a carnival of odors and no doubt her nose is alive with the smells of ocean, but she also seems to find waves very compelling. Her inclination, I think, is to see each swell as a distinct “thing,” and the undulations of the waves (rushing forward and withdrawing, telegraphing their motions) seem to put her into a playtime state of mind.

Barley, a dog, lies on a bed, shrouded in darkness. The light behind the photographer catches in her eyes, causing them to glow uncannily. I ain’t ‘fraida no Barley. I ain’t ‘fraida no bed.

Barley, a dog, sits still somewhat moist from a bath. Between her short fur, her lack of an undercoat, and regularly being caught in light rainfall, I’ve never lived with a dog who needs fewer baths than Barley. Still, from time to time, she gets a good cleaning, and every time I find myself weirded out by the sight of her without a collar. “Oh, good heavens,” I think in a period accent, “I didn’t realize you were changing!” And yet here she is, Donald Ducking it every day and I don’t give it a second thought. Remarkable how little it takes for the human brain to code an animal as “clothed.”

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!

Barley, a dog, slips briefly into consciousness before continuing a nap in her crate. Barley’s position is unambiguous: Naps should be a team activity. Her ideal world, I think would consists of many additional hours of the two of us lazing about in various states of consciousness. With this in mind, I’ll sometimes grab a book and park myself right outside her crate while she sleeps. She groggily appraises my presence and, seemingly approving of my staying put, slips back into the land of dreams.

Barley, a dog, is featured in a newspaper. I often joke that Barley’s the star and I’m merely her manager, but I cannot understate how much that’s what it felt like while being present during the interview that I brokered between Barley and the reporter who took this photo.

Barley, a dog, wears a very bright slightly large floatation vest. Barley has had a couple opportunities to experience being On A Boat, so in the interest of safety, she is the proud owner of a floatation vest that is almost too big for her. When we went to buy her the vest, this was the only size in stock that technically worked. So when out on the open ocean, she looks like she’s straddling the line between Neon Taco and Free Horse Armor DLC.

Barley, a dog, scales a flight of stairs weathered and ancient-seeming. When poking around with Barley, there’s something very surreal about suddenly finding oneself somewhere that is at once not nature but also no longer getting much human traffic. Doing so with Barley taking the lead feels much, much more like I’m being led by a Stalker into The Zone than crossing through such an area would feel if I were by myself.

Barley, a dog, viewed in profile against a rolling expanse of grass and trees. The old cartoon gag is that dogs think trees and fire hydrants are resplendent oases, and indeed those upright objects command Barley’s attention on walks, but when I walk across large open expanses (fields of grass, empty parking lots, etc.), it really becomes clear what she does and does not consider a visually interesting landmark. Fundamentally, I don’t think dogs see our sidewalks the way we do, as linear tracks to be followed to a destination. It’s more like a natural 3D space has been collapsed to 2D, with every interesting landmark squashed along the margin. So, of course, she needs to stop and smell every interesting thing we come across; there’s so many all in a row! To Barley, pedestrian walkways seem (I think) a bit more like supermarket aisles. In a more naturally open environment extending in every direction, her walking pace feels like a more natural mix of walking, jogging, and running.

Barley, a dog, stands up as tall as she can to see something out of frame. Barley is so scent oriented that her approach to the outdoors is predominantly a hunkering saunter, trotting along while scanning for compelling smells. However, there is one sound her ears are always scanning for, and that’s any jingle jangle in “pet collar tag” territory. Any tag jangles could mean a new friend! Upon jangle detection, she stands as tall as she can and scans the horizon, her ears pivoting to triangulate the point of origin. Anticlimactically, in this photo, it turned out to be someone’s car keys instead.

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.