Ten years ago, I picked up a camera because of one dog: Hunter. He’s the reason any of this exists, and somewhere along the way, photographing him turned into pointing a camera at other people’s dogs for money and calling it a business. I had no idea what I was doing. It feels I still don’t, some days—I’ve just gotten better at looking like I do—but a decade in, a few things have become impossible to ignore. I’m not talking about business lessons, or that “five tips to grow your brand” nonsense, just the stuff that kept showing up, session after session, dog after dog, until I couldn’t pretend it was a coincidence anymore.
So, as I celebrate a decade of Bark & Gold, let me share with you what ten years and thousands of dogs have taught me.
1. People don’t remember the session, but they sure do remember how they felt in their home afterward
Clients rarely tell me about the weather that day, or how long we were out shooting, or which lens I used (understandably—nobody cares).
What they tell me about, months and years later, is walking past the portrait in their hallway every morning. That’s the part that sticks. The session is just the means to that end.
2. The clients who almost didn’t book are sometimes the ones who end up loving it most
I’ve had clients talk themselves out of it three separate times before finally saying yes. And more often than not, those are the ones who send me the most heartfelt messages afterward.
Hesitation isn’t a sign someone doesn’t want this. Usually it just means they haven’t given themselves permission yet.
3. Every dog I’ve photographed has taught me something different about how people love
Some people love loudly, running, laughing, tackling their dog mid-frame. Some love more subtly, in the way they rest a hand on their dog’s back without even noticing they’re doing it. I didn’t expect a job about dogs to teach me this much about people, but here we are.
4. The dogs everyone assumes are “too old” or “too anxious” to photograph make the most powerful portraits
I hear it constantly: “She’s getting older, she’s not as photogenic as she used to be,” or “He’s too nervous, this probably won’t work.” Those sessions are, almost without exception, the ones that produce the portraits people can’t stop looking at. Age and anxiety don’t erase a dog’s presence. If anything, they add to it.
5. Grief is the reason half my clients finally book (I wish more people did it before they needed to)
I say this gently, because I know it’s not an easy thing to hear: a huge number of the people who reach out to me are doing it because they just found out their dog is sick, or old, or running out of time. I’m always glad I can help, but I wish “someday” wasn’t a word so many people only use in hindsight.
6. I’ve never once had a client regret booking, but I’ve had plenty regret waiting
Not one. In ten years, I have never had a client tell me they wished they hadn’t done this. I have had many tell me they wished they’d done it sooner—before their dog’s face turned gray, before their old girl slowed down, before the years just got away from them.
7. The dogs who won’t sit still are usually the ones whose personalities come through the most
The perfectly obedient dogs make for lovely photos, but the ones who won’t stop moving, who bark at birds and steal my squeaker toys and refuse to look anywhere near the camera? Those sessions are pandemonium, and the final portraits are somehow always full of more life than the calm ones. Funny how that works.
8. The dogs who “hate the camera” usually just haven’t met the right photographer yet
I hear this one almost every session: “Fair warning, he hates having his picture taken.” And almost every time, twenty minutes in, that same dog is leaning into me like we’ve known each other for years.
Dogs don’t hate cameras. They hate feeling rushed, cornered, or like something is being done to them instead of with them. Change the approach, change the dog.
9. A dog’s expression in a portrait can hold a whole relationship
I can’t always explain why a certain image stops people in their tracks, but I’ve come to believe it’s because a dog’s eyes, caught at the right moment, aren’t just looking at the camera. He’s looking at you. At the person standing behind him. And somehow, that comes through in the final piece, years later, to anyone who looks at it.
10. The clients who book “just because” often end up with my favorite portraits
No milestone, no diagnosis, no big anniversary—just a random Tuesday where someone decided their dog deserved this. Those sessions tend to be the most relaxed, the most joyful, and always, some of the best portraits I’ve made.
You don’t need a reason. “Because I want to” has always been reason enough.
Ten years of doing this, and if there’s one thing that ties all of this together, it’s this: the artwork on your walls isn’t really about the walls. It’s about having something real to hold onto once the dog who’s currently asleep on your couch isn’t there to do it in person anymore.
I’ve watched too many people wait for the “right time” only to find out the right time already passed. So if you’ve been meaning to do this, that time may be now. Not because of a sale, not because of a deadline, just because ten years in, I can tell you with certainty: nobody has ever regretted having the portrait. Plenty have regretted not having it sooner.
If you’ve been putting this off, waiting for a “someday” that keeps sliding further out, let’s talk. No pressure, no sales pitch, only a conversation about your dog, your home, and what you’d actually love to see on your walls. Reach out however feels most comfortable to you and let’s figure out what that looks like.