People often ask why I photograph dogs
The short answer?
Because of one little white puppy named Roxie.
She was the kind of dog that quietly changes the direction of your life without either of you realizing it at the time.
Every July, I think about her a little more than usual. It's the month I lost her, and while the ache has softened over the years, it's also a reminder that everything I do today started with her.
Roxie was perfection.
She had one brindle ear, one brindle eye patch, the floppiest, softest ears you've ever felt, and the sweetest little smushy face. She looked exactly like The Poky Little Puppy from the Little Golden Book.
She was ridiculously easy to train, loved nothing more than curling up beside me, and was just stubborn enough that I respected her for it. We were cut from the same cloth.
That little face got her absolutely everything she wanted.
And she knew it.
Everybody loved Roxie.
She was also the reason I spent years believing living with a dog was easy.
Rilëy proved a bit more difficult…. and Stanley earned his nick name el Diablo. Let's just say he had a different interpretation of the training manual.
Looking back now, I can see that Roxie didn't just teach me how deeply you can love a dog, but how deeply she seemed to understand people.
I remember one day when life was really throwing it at me. You know that rare situation where everything feels heavy and all you can do is lay on the couch and cry?
My little gaffer quietly climbed onto the couch, stretched herself across my chest, looked me straight in the eyes, and started giving me these tiny little tippity taps with her paws like she was saying “there, there…” She didn't bark. She didn't fidget. She just stayed, licking away my tears.
It was the simplest act of comfort I've ever been given, and it came from a dog.
People who have never loved one probably won't understand that. The rest of us know they are never just dogs.
She unknowingly gave me my career as a Calgary dog photographer.
At the time, I had graduated with my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Photography, but my camera had been collecting more dust than memories. I loved photography, but I'd quietly convinced myself it probably wasn't going to become my life. It was really driven into my psyche that one needed s stable job with health and dental benefits.
Then Roxie happened.
Without trying, I started photographing the all the moments between the ordinary ones, the goofy ones, the ones I never wanted to forget.
Looking back now, I realize those are exactly the moments I was trying to photograph. Not the perfectly posed ones, but the weird little habits, the quiet routines, and the everyday moments that make your dog your dog.
That's the difference between photographing your why and photographing something you're simply good at.
Roxie wasn't just my favourite subject.
She was the reason I picked up my camera in the first place.
Every dog I've photographed since has been someone's Roxie.
Someone's once-in-a-lifetime heart dog.
And that's a responsibility I'll never take lightly.
