Posted By: Jim Garvie
End Of LIfe Photography: What If It's Your Dog? - 07/09/09 12:17 AM
We've discussed how all of us deal with "end of life" portrait sessions and I've done more than my share of them. For me they are cathartic to some extent. Usually they are of dogs I know well and photographing them -- and holding them -- is a way to say "goodbye" as artistically and as sensitively as possible.
But what do you do when that dog is your own? Yesterday, we learned that Rowdy has lung cancer. It is advanced; it is terminal. And he has very little time. We've vowed to make his life now as much of an adventure as it's been for the other 11 1/2 years and to continue to spoil him until we no longer can. I've tried to photograph him now -- because even though he's thinner and more fragile, he's still the Rowdster. But every time I look through the viewfinder, I see another Rowdy. I see him as a puppy that nobody wanted. I see him as the strapping 3-year-old that ranked in the top 25. I see him as the empathic therapy dog that encouraged severely autistic children to rub his ears and smile for the first time in their lives. And I can't press the shutter. I simply can't do it.
So, over the next few days (maybe weeks) we'll take care of our guy. Soon, he'll let us know it's time for him to leave us. His girlfriends from all over the country -- the young women who have shown him and done therapy work with him -- have decided to come and visit him one more time. And, yes, I'll photograph those times because Rowdy will be incredibly happy. But I don't think I can do any "end of life" portraits. I guess I just want him to live forever. And, in people's hearts and memories, I think he will.
Jim
But what do you do when that dog is your own? Yesterday, we learned that Rowdy has lung cancer. It is advanced; it is terminal. And he has very little time. We've vowed to make his life now as much of an adventure as it's been for the other 11 1/2 years and to continue to spoil him until we no longer can. I've tried to photograph him now -- because even though he's thinner and more fragile, he's still the Rowdster. But every time I look through the viewfinder, I see another Rowdy. I see him as a puppy that nobody wanted. I see him as the strapping 3-year-old that ranked in the top 25. I see him as the empathic therapy dog that encouraged severely autistic children to rub his ears and smile for the first time in their lives. And I can't press the shutter. I simply can't do it.
So, over the next few days (maybe weeks) we'll take care of our guy. Soon, he'll let us know it's time for him to leave us. His girlfriends from all over the country -- the young women who have shown him and done therapy work with him -- have decided to come and visit him one more time. And, yes, I'll photograph those times because Rowdy will be incredibly happy. But I don't think I can do any "end of life" portraits. I guess I just want him to live forever. And, in people's hearts and memories, I think he will.
Jim