I don’t think I ever decided dogs would shape my life in all the little ways they have.
It just happened.
I’m a dog mom to two pups—a terrier mix named Kita and a golden retriever named Zoey. Their personalities are about as opposite as two dogs can be, which means I walk them separately.
It takes twice as long, but I’ve really come to treasure this time.
I love getting up early. The neighborhood is still quiet, and if I’m lucky, I get to witness the sunrise. But what I love most is that my day begins with my dogs before I look at my phone, social media, text messages or the news.
It’s my slow awakening to the day.
For years, when I was a pet sitter, my mornings looked very different. I’d take care of my own dogs and then drive to my first pet-sitting job and walk someone else’s dog.
Maybe that’s part of why I treasure walking my own dogs so much now.
I could let them out in our fenced yard and be done with it. But I don’t want to.
My dogs have also shaped the people I know. Most of my connections happen because I’m a dog mom or a photographer. I’ve developed friendships with neighbors simply because we see each other while walking our dogs.
When I meet someone with their dog, I want to know all about their pup. What’s their name? How old are they? What are they like?
Usually, getting to know the dog leads to getting to know their owner.
Of course, having dogs isn’t always convenient.
Some mornings I’d love to sleep in or be lazy and read a book, but I have furry noses in my face demanding breakfast and a walk.
They also make me hesitate when we talk about taking a longer trip. I’d love to explore a new town or city, even go overseas for a couple of weeks. But then I think about being away from my dogs for that long.
And I hesitate.
My dogs make some things harder.
But they also make me slow down when I haven’t realized I need to.
Zoey does this.
Sometimes she follows me around the house, pressing her head against my knees and demanding to be petted. When she does, I pay attention.
Often, I realize I’m stressed and she’s picking up on it.
So I stop what I’m doing and pet her.
And I feel a little calmer.
A little less stressed.
Sometimes even my perspective on whatever is bothering me shifts.
And then there’s Izzy, my golden retriever who I lost in 2024.
She changed the way I see the ordinary parts of life.
Shortly before I said goodbye to her, I knew our time together was coming to an end. Every night, I said a prayer of thanks for yet another day together.
I looked forward to coming home from work and seeing her through the window watching me pull into the driveway. If I woke up during the night, I was grateful I could reach down and feel her soft fur beside me.
They weren’t extraordinary moments.
But they meant a lot to me.
After she was gone, I realized just how much those ordinary moments had meant. When I woke up from a bad dream, I missed being able to reach out and feel her beside me.
Losing her changed the way I photograph dogs, too.
I used to be focused on getting everything technically correct—the perfect pose, everyone looking at the camera, the right light and settings.
But after I lost her, I found myself caring more about how a photograph made my client feel.
I look for the little things that make their dog who they are. The head tilt. The curled lip. The way they look up at their person for guidance and reassurance.
Because when they see these photographs, I want them to feel what it’s like to love their dog.
I have dozens of photographs of Izzy. I can look at them anytime I want.
They don’t bring her back. But they give me something of her to hold onto.
Maybe that’s one of the biggest ways my dogs have shaped my life.
They’ve made me notice the little things.
The ordinary moments that don’t seem like much at the time.
But those little things are my life.
And I’m grateful for them.