Dogtography: A Knock-Your-Socks-Off Guide to Capturing the Best Dog Photos on Earth

INTRODUCTION

HI, I’M KAYLEE

…AND I’M GOING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING THAT WILL BLAST YOUR SOCKS RIGHT OFF YOUR FEET AND INTO THE SKY.

Ready?

I love dogs.

And oh my gosh, I wish I could say this in a casual, nonchalant, Yeah I think dogs are pretty cool, no big deal, sort of way. But you guys…I mean it. I mean like, in a totally and completely bona fide crazy-dog-lady kind of way.

Ever since I was 5 years old, I would run squealing wildly with delight across the street toward any passing pup I’d see. I’d try with all my might to keep my head from popping off my body from all the joy.

Fast-forward to today, and not much has changed. My friends actually try and deter me from the path of oncoming dogs as we walk down the sidewalk for fear that I might embarrass them while we get stuck in a 25-minute interaction that includes me excessively ogling, squishing, and kissing a strange dog with a sometimes slightly terrified owner looking on.

The truth is, I find more beauty, purity, and joy inside the iris of a happy dog than I do anywhere else in the world. When all else seems to fail me, I find solace in the smile of a dog. Dogs have this perfect ability to live simply—to live in the moment. And that just fascinates me.

Looking back, I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer. I’ve always lived just a little bit on the edge of society, conjuring up fairytales and big adventures and ignoring the status quo. I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants, sleep late, and I hate to plan. I like to watch the way the world unfolds around me when I just let go. I’ve always figured that life is for living, right? We’re given these beautiful, bright red beating hearts and these vessels of bone and flesh, and it’s all like one big, gorgeous poem. Everything works together, ticking in perfect synchronization to keep us alive, to keep our synapses firing and our eyes wide open. I think it’s unbelievable. And I’ve always thought—I might as well go discover the world while I still have these two feet underneath my body that are capable of carrying me across any kind of terrain, right?

This was the kind of outlandish thinking that brought me to where I am today. I am humbled and wildly grateful to say that I live my dream through a camera lens each and every day. Of all the jobs in this world that one could possibly have, I get to have the best one of all. But it wasn’t just a simple, seamless jump that got me here. Oh no, it’s been a very, very big adventure. I’ve had to carve my own way. Because, while I didn’t know much when I first started, the one thing I did know was that nobody was going to get out of their warm bed and carve it for me.

Luckily for me, I was blessed enough to be able to turn my copious amounts of dog crazy into passion, and that passion into a profession.

Yup, you heard it here folks—I am a professional dog photographer.

(If you hang on just a second, upon the announcement of the news, I think I can hear the five-year-old version of myself squealing with delight from all the way back in 1990.)

HOW IT ALL BEGAN

Ten years ago, I was a terribly lost soul. After college, I held my head high and walked the world with big, big aspirations. I applied to a gazillion (technical number) different companies on a gazillion different kinds of resume paper.

As far as I knew, I had done everything right. I got excellent grades, I turned in all my papers on time, I interned at all the right places, and took all the right electives. I did everything that my parents and teachers and bosses and mentors had told me to do. So naturally, when I left school, I was riding high. Or so I thought. Shining bright and ready to conquer the world, I applied to my top company choices, sending my sparkling resume to places where I just knew I could go, join the ranks of the workforce and change the world. How lucky they would be to have me.

Little did I realize that doing everything right didn’t necessarily translate to a golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s proverbial chocolate factory of business, life and obnoxious amounts of success. When no responses came back to me in the form of job offers straight out of a Hollywood picture, I found myself working a make-ends-meet job that squashed every fiber of creativity and soul that I had. Leaving my workplace at the ends of my shifts in tears started to become commonplace, and I fell into a state of deep sadness as I tried to avoid the daily lie I was telling myself about how I was doing everything I could, all along knowing full well that I was wasting valuable time while not using my gifts to their full potential.

One afternoon, I was driving home from that particular job—tires splashing across wet pavement—and I made a decision. I was going to take the next step toward finding my purpose. In that tiny moment of clarity, I took a step back and had a heart-to-heart with Kaylee Greer. A meeting of sorts. Both the grown-up version of me and the squeaky five-year-old version of me were in attendance. I asked myself some hard questions.

What is it that I was put on this planet to do?

What do I have inside me that I should give the world?

What is my purpose?

Those answers, the ones that have always been there in the back of my head, lighting a wildfire in my heart, came soaring to the forefront of my life and my mind:

Dogs.

So, I went to the shelter.

At the time, I had absolutely no idea how much that decision would change my life. In those long and winding shelter hallways, Dog Breath Photography was born. It is where I would step onto a rollercoaster cart that would start me on the greatest and most thrilling adventure of my life, taking me to places I could have never even begun to imagine. The cart began to climb up the very first hill, bringing me to higher heights than I ever thought possible. I peered, disbelieving and wide eyed over its brightly colored edge and just before I had a chance to take a deep breath and brace myself, the first gust of wind blasted my hair backwards, and I watched my future unfold in the name of dog.

Since that moment 10 years ago, I have photographed thousands of dog photo sessions; traveled the world teaching photography workshops; worked on life-changing international animal rescue missions; shot national commercial ad campaigns for some of the biggest brands in the pet industry; seen my work in editorials, greeting cards, books, calendars, and galleries; have had a television series on Nat Geo WILD; and now, my fingers are clinking wildly on this keyboard as I get to write my first ever book.

So here I am, staring at this computer screen for so many hours a day that I think my eyes might pop out of my head. I’d like to thank the 2,000 Reese’s peanut butter cups and 4,500 pee breaks it took me to write this book. I also must extend an extra special bout of gratitude to my dogs, Joshua and Junie, for lying at my feet for at least 75% of this time-consuming process and letting out silent-but-deadlies that could put an entire pasture of cows to shame. A high five goes to my partner Sam for peeling my flattened body off the floor after another 8-hour stint of writing threw me into a new and exciting bout of crippling self doubt, the kind in which I decided for the 33rd time that I can’t do this. This is an impossible task.

But holy banana sandwiches, we’ve arrived. Here we are. Welcome. Welcome to my book. I am so excited I think my heart might melt down into puddles in my shoes.

The following pages are a collection of my thoughts. An amalgamation of experiences. A curation of philosophies. A treasure chest of sparkling tips and secret gems. After ten years of photographing dogs professionally, I’ve arrived here, to the pages of this book, with the promise to share all the information that I’ve hoarded away in the colorful corners of my brain. (Well, actually, lucky for you, not all the information, just the stuff pertaining to dogs and cameras.)

Behind the scenes filming our television show Pupparazzi for Nat Geo WILD.

If you love dogs, this book is for you.

If you love photography, this book is for you.

If you want to take better photos of your own dog, for no other reason than to capture his perfect legacy for posterity, this book is for you.

If you dream of becoming a professional dog photographer, this book is for you.

If you already are a professional dog photographer, this book is for you.

And if you just happen to want to gaze upon adorable dog photos for a few hundred pages to meet your monthly cute overload quota, well, you’re in luck—because this book is also for you.

As you make your journey through the pages of this book, you might find out pretty quickly that I don’t take myself too seriously. I can only share my stories, experiences and store of knowledge in the best way I know how—by being me. But in between the adventurous anecdotes and parenthetical asides, I can assure you that the rigid bits of technical information and the very real facts do exist. I may have just shrouded them in the occasional unicorn and rainbow wrapping paper because, apparently, that’s how I cope with impossible challenges (or things that I believe to be impossible challenges, like you know, writing this book).

But that’s enough rambling from me. I can assure you, there’s plenty of time for that later. Now, hop on in this rollercoaster cart with me, and I’ll take you to a place where you just might discover the magic, mayhem, and madness that goes into making the best dog photos on planet Earth.

— Kaylee

Here I am, among hundreds of free ranging dogs at the Territorio de Zaguates on a mountaintop in Costa Rica.

CHAPTER

SPEAK DOG

BARK, BARK, BARK, BARK, ETC.

Dogs do speak. And believe it or not, they have a lot to say.

As dog photographers, it is our job to listen. To pay attention to what our canine subjects are trying to say to us and to the world around them.

The kindest words that I could ever receive about my photos are, Wow, I can really feel the personality of that dog in your photo. I feel connected to him. Even though I’ve never met him, I feel like I know him.

There’s no higher compliment for someone who’s made it her life’s mission to help be a voice for dogs through still imagery. A common issue I see with photographers who are very new to working with dogs is that their final image makes no real connection between the viewer and the animal in the photo. No oomph. No spirit. No personality. Just a dog. A photograph may be technically perfect: exposed correctly, no blown highlights, detail in the shadows, tack sharp with a strong rule of thirds applied compositionally. And guess what? That’s all well and good. But that photo means nothing—absolutely nothing—if there is no connection between subject and viewer. It means nothing if their voice doesn’t resonate through the image and into the viewer’s heart. What I’m saying is (and this is important, so read this sentence twice if you have to):

The moment trumps the technical.

Every time.

Oh, so Kaylee, you’re saying that it’s completely fine to ignore exposure, composition, lens choice, and focus modes, each time you take a photo?

Get the heck right outta town, of course I’m not! But I am saying that if your subject is speaking through the frame—reaching out across the plane to crawl into the viewer’s heart and leaving a tangible mark there—then zooming in to 1000% to check if every pixel is tack sharp is completely unimportant. Capiche?

So why does that fine piece of advice come to you here, right at the beginning of this book, in chapter 1? That’s easy. It’s because this is the foundation of literally every single other thing we will be discussing throughout the course of this happy little book. You cannot build an empire in France without first learning French. You cannot build a brand and do business in Hong Kong without first learning Mandarin. You need to know and respect the language, customs, and culture of the world you’re immersing yourself into. Similarly, you cannot live in the world of dogs and handcraft imagery featuring dogs and their stories, without first learning the language of dog. It’s only fair. It’s their world. We’re just making beautiful photos in it.

LET’S TALK DOG BODY LANGUAGE

This is a book for photographers, not biologists. (Although if you happen to be a photographer-biologist, well then that’s rad and you are still very much welcome here.)

To preface this chapter—If you’re looking for in-depth reading on the subject, I highly recommend renowned Animal Behaviorist Alexandra Horowitz’s book Inside of a Dog. I feel it should be required reading for anyone looking to work with dogs in any capacity.

That said, this is less of a chapter in a science textbook and more of a quick rundown of the basics that we need to know in order to respect and communicate with dogs as subjects of our photography. It would be easy to write an entire Lord of the Rings-length epic on this subject alone, so I’ll tame it down to the absolute basics here.

While dogs are mostly known to us as our domesticated canine best friends, it’s easy to forget that dogs are still live animals of an entirely different species. It’s important to understand that we need to take precaution when working with live animals in order to keep everyone safe while on-location.

Remember, in the history of the world, dogs were only very recently domesticated as human companions. They are direct descendants of the wolf. No matter how much we try to manipulate, change, and rearrange them through selective breeding, they will never fully lose the genetic and historical connection to their wild ancestors.

Throughout the course of your dog photography adventures, you are going to meet and work with all kinds of dogs. Happy dogs. Calm dogs. Wild dogs. Fearful dogs. Big dogs. Little dogs. Proud dogs. Barking dogs. Spotted dogs. Curly dogs. Handicapped dogs. Agility dogs. Service dogs. Shelter dogs. Senior dogs. You get the picture. Some of them will be a breeze to photograph. Some of them won’t even notice you’re there. Some of them won’t let you within five feet of where they stand. Some of them will bowl you over and cover you with slobbery love anytime you’re within eyesight. Dogs and their varying, unique personalities go on and endlessly on. Like human beings, dogs are individuals, and we must respect them as such. They all come with their own stories and histories. Some will be so easy to photograph that we’ll dust our shoulders off at the end of a long shoot and smile smugly. Others will test our resilience and our expertise. They will be so hard to work with that you’ll burst into tears and question every reason why you ever thought you could be a dog photographer.

We must know how to work with them all. Every dog deserves to have their story told.

1.1

In this chapter we’re going to look at some very specific dog body language scenarios as they relate to photography. We’ll learn what signs to look for, what they could mean, and what we as photographers can do to ensure we’re respecting those signs. Not only will this help us to work safely, but the resulting images will show that we can really speak dog.

Let’s start by addressing the obvious. Photographing dogs is hard. Like, really hard. The idea of capturing still images of a constantly moving, fur-covered subject that doesn’t speak the same language as us is a tough nut to crack in and of itself. But more than that, there’s an even bigger challenge that we are presented with before we even leave the house. It has directly to do with a certain primal instinct that comes built into each and every dog we meet.

In dog body language, staring directly toward or into another dog’s eyes is considered extremely aggressive. This is usually the last interaction that occurs before a fight breaks out between two (or more) dogs. What does this mean for us? You guessed it. As photographers, we’re at a disadvantage before we even step into the ring because what does our lens (smooshed directly into the face of an unassuming dog) resemble?

That’s right. A big, giant eye.

It may seem like innocent fun and games to us. Just a nice new DSLR and a couple of lenses while I lean in to snag a quick shot—no pressure Fido!

But, here’s what it looks like from the perspective of a dog.

Horrifying.

1.2

As you can see, photo shoots are inherently a strange experience for dogs. It’s a break from their daily routines (stressful), perhaps taking place in unfamiliar surroundings (stressful), heavily featuring a new human who puts a large clicking black box in front of their face while demanding endless sits and stays (super stressful). So, what can we do to take all of this strangeness and turn it into a wonderful experience? How can we master our images but also master managing the happiness and comfort of all the very good boys and girls that will find their way in front of our lenses? Good question! The first and absolute most important thing we’ll talk about in this section is energy.

Energy

Energy is everything on a dog photo shoot. Dogs are as empathetic as they come (which of course, is one of their most winning qualities). This means that whatever human energy you’re bringing to your shoot is going to be felt by your dog. Always focus on staying as calm, even, and positive as possible.

That means: No flying off the handle with excitement. (I’m looking at you Kaylee Greer.) No audible or visual frustration over not getting a shot or the arrival of an unwelcome swath of party-pooping black clouds rolling in to fill up the sky. No celebrations with confetti or party-popping streamer thingamajigs to commemorate the joy of the occasion.

You get the picture.

Here’s something you may or may not already know about dog photography: It’s hard. And some days are harder than others. It’s on those days where perhaps you’ve got a particularly difficult dog, or your planned shoot location falls through, or your favorite lens stops functioning, that you simply have to go with the flow, be patient, and keep your energy upbeat and positive. Your dog model will absolutely pick up on and react to your energy at a shoot.

If you have the perfect shot planned, but simply can’t get your dog model to sit where you need him to, stay patient. Take a breath, take a break, and try again. If it takes you 30 minutes to get the shot, then that’s what it takes. Under no circumstances should you let your frustration show. Be extra patient at your shoot knowing you can scream into a pillow as soon as you get home. Your calm, even, happy presence and energy are going to translate right into a comfortable, content, and relaxed dog model, making your job 67.455 times easier (mathematically speaking).

You can control your own energy, and that’s brilliant. But let’s talk wild cards. What about the dog’s owner? Or how about their entourage of three hundred thousand friends, family members, children, and the family gecko they insist on bringing along? Kidding about that last one. Kind of.

Oh boy. This is where the real struggle comes in. There is one thing that has astounded me over the years of working with dogs professionally, and it’s something that I still marvel at even to this day. Simply put, while the vast majority of people in the world own, love, and share their homes with dogs, only a very tiny percentage of them actually know anything about dogs.

I’m not saying this to be negative or condescending toward those people in any way, because they genuinely have good intentions and love their dogs as family. It’s just that the average dog owner rarely takes a step back to try and understand the world from their dog’s perspective. Most people have never read a book on dog behavior, taken a training class, or worked with multiple dogs in a meaningful capacity. While this lack of understanding is generally fine for the average owner’s day-to-day life, it can easily become a problem during your photo shoot.

The fact is, a good percentage of the dog owners that show up on your shoot day are going to be feeling lots of emotions. Excitement at such a fun and unique adventure with their dog. Nervousness or anxiety about their dog misbehaving or being able to perform for your lens (especially if they’ve invested a significant amount of money for the shoot). Frustration with their dog if they don’t immediately sit pretty and stay perfectly the first few times around. The task of managing stress and energy falls onto us, the psychiatrists photographers.

Each tiny individual emotion that the owner is experiencing can be felt deeply by the dog (even more intensely if the dog-owner bond is exceptionally strong). It can be like a wild rollercoaster ride for your dog model (and frankly, for everyone involved). And boy oh boy, it cannot be overstated how much you do not need the extra challenge of dealing with bad energy while trying to make gorgeous and impactful images of a subject who is supposed to look relaxed and happy.

Imagine the manic, wild ride of emotions the whole operation becomes when young children become involved in the day. Trust me when I say there’s a reason that all the information packets I send to my clients before we meet strongly and repeatedly suggest that maybe it’s not the greatest idea to bring children along for their photo-shoot day.

1.3

FIGURE 1.3 The candid, unscripted moments of dogs being dogs are the very best part of any photo shoot. Largely ignoring my presence and my camera, Petey was quite busy with a serious bout of playing and splashing in the cool ocean water when I managed to snag this shot. Petey carried on with his fun, none the wiser that he had just given me one of my single favorite photos of my entire career.

I’ve heard owners yell frantically at their dogs for not immediately obeying, or worse yet, physically push their dogs into sitting or laying positions in an effort to move the shoot along. I know that these people truly do mean well, and they think they’re doing it to help, but this is where I have to step in and make it clear that we will not be running the session in a force-based way. This type of behavior is considered negative reinforcement, and can quickly ruin any chances of your dog model behaving in front of the camera. In your dog’s brain, the camera will become associated with their owner’s negative emotions of frustration and anger. If things go down this path, you’re going to spend the majority of your shoot trying to reset that association, making it extremely difficult for you to create any photos worth talking about. One of your top priorities will be making sure things never get to this point.

All of this said, don’t always count owners out on the energy front. I’ve had some dog owners turn up to my shoots with incredible, zen-like energy that massages the entire day into perfection. In fact, I can remember with crystal clarity back to certain shoots simply because of the remarkable quality of energy of the dog owner. Even looking through past galleries and shoots as I unearth photos for this book, I can land on a single of a dog and tell you within milliseconds if their owner brought an ultra calm energy with them just based on the dog’s expression. While these types of owners are admittedly a bit more rare than their wilder, slightly more manically energetic counterparts, they do exist and the effect their presence can have on your shoot is quite tangible.

In order to help you spend more time shooting, and less time as a doggy/human psychologist, here are some tried and true tips to alleviate any negative, pressing, or just plain bad on-shoot energy:

This one is the first bullet point because it is by far the most important. (Is that how bullet points work?) Before you even come close to officially starting your shoot, communicate clearly with your client. Snatch all the question marks right out of the air the moment you meet them and confidently explain exactly how the whole process is going to work. Don’t forget, you are the expert in this situation. You need to kindly command control of the day from the very moment you meet your dog and client or you’re at risk of things spiraling out of control very quickly. Feel free to steal a line right out of my playbook by saying "There is zero pressure on your dog to perform for me today. He doesn’t have to do anything other than be a dog. That’s the absolute magic of it all anyway." I find this statement immediately loosens my clients up. Any worries or anxieties about their dog’s potential inability to behave perfectly (let’s face it, that’s 99% of real dogs on planet Earth anyway) melt away. They almost all react the same—a nervous laugh and something along the lines of, "Oh my gosh, what a relief. I was so worried about that." I can usually feel a tangible amount of tension dissipate into the air.

Owners love to have a job and to help. If there is something that you can assign them to do, you may find that the shoot goes a lot more smoothly. You might ask them to hold a reflector, or hold the dog’s leash up and out of the frame just so, in a way where you can successfully Photoshop it out later. If you don’t have an actual task for them to perform without them being entirely in the way, express appreciation for their willingness to lend a hand, but be clear that it’s best that they step back and let you do what you do best. Sometimes, making up a job for them if it’s genuinely not needed has the potential to turn into a case of too many cooks in the kitchen. So be clear and upfront about how they, the client, can best serve the shoot—whether that’s helping or just standing back and enjoying the ride.

Be conversational and always keep your client updated and involved in the process. I find it’s immensely helpful to the flow of the day and overall success of the shoot if I clearly and conversationally communicate with my client throughout. I describe everything I’m doing and why I’m doing it. Most people are naturally curious and find the process of photographing a dog quite interesting. They feel excited to be a part of that process for the day. Invite them in with open arms. Give them cool behind-the-scenes info or stories about your job, or engage them by showing them the back of your camera after a particularly nice shot. This keeps the client interested and involved. If you make them understand everything you that you’re doing and why you’re doing it, they are going to be a lot more willing to allow you to keep up with the whole adventure and do whatever it takes to help you keep crushing it. I’ve been on shoots with other photographers who speak with their clients very little or not at all as they’re working, and I have to tell you, the overall awkwardness of the situation makes me cringe all the way down into my shoes. When there’s no communication, I can feel the tension of the shoot growing, and that tension directly translates into bad energy. Without proper communication, it can make the whole experience feel more like a chore and less like an adventure they’ll never forget—which is exactly the opposite of the type of experience you want to provide. (Ahh, see. You didn’t get very far into this book before I dropped the inevitable on ya: While we are in this business because we love dogs, people skills are still very much necessary. Womp womp.)

If you’ve done your very best job managing the energy of the day’s adventure with your pre-shoot conversation, but you feel like your client is still tense or nervous, start off your shoot with a long walk to the first photo spot. Even if that spot is close by, you can sneakily walk the outer perimeter of the park with the client and dog and then circle back to it. Just keep up the conversation and let them know you’re taking inventory of the best spots as you walk—this will buy extra bonding time before commencing the shoot. This extra time invariably helps to relax both owner and dog into the situation, not only with the new location, but also with you, as a person and a new friend. This simply gives you time to build rapport with the client, which goes an incredibly long way to relieve any lingering discomfort or tension.

If you’ve done both of the above and there are still any shreds of anxiety or discomfort from either dog or owner, reset the situation by starting the day off with a completely non-photo related activity. Take out a ball and