You Don’t Always Get a Heads Up

At the Canadian Pet Expo earlier this month, I had a handful of people come to my booth with their phones out. They weren't looking to book a session — they were hoping I could print a photo. A phone photo, sometimes blurry, sometimes taken mid-motion, of a pet they had lost.

It’s something I wasn’t fully prepared for. Each person had a story. One person's dog had died unexpectedly during a flight — a healthy animal, gone without warning. Others had simply watched their pet decline faster than they expected. They weren't upset with me, of course. They were just hoping that somehow, something could be done with what they had left.

That stuck with me more than I expected.

The thing about pets is that they rarely give us a formal heads up. Unlike so many things in life we can plan around, the window to do something — to book the session, to carve out the afternoon, to just be present with a camera — can close faster than we anticipate.

A few weeks ago I received an email from someone whose 15-year-old dog had just been diagnosed with bladder cancer. She wanted to book what's called a rainbow session — a portrait session specifically for pets who are nearing the end of their life, or who have received a serious diagnosis. The goal is simple: to create beautiful, intentional photographs while there's still time. Not as a goodbye, but as a celebration of the animal who has been part of your family.

She mentioned in her email that she didn't know how long her dog had.

I was away when her message came in, and the earliest I could get her booked was two weeks out. I won't pretend that didn't weigh on me a little. Two weeks can mean a lot when a timeline is uncertain.

The session happened last week.

I'm not going to say much more about it than this: her dog was 15 years old, gentle and calm, and she moved through the session like she knew exactly what it was for. The light was good. The photos turned out beautifully — the kind you take your time with while editing.

That's what a rainbow session can be, when the timing works out. Not sad, exactly. Full. A family showing up for their pet in one of the most loving ways, and walking away with something they'll have forever.

If you've been putting off a session because life is busy, or because your pet seems fine, or because you're just not sure it's the right time — I understand. Most people feel that way. That’s something I’ve been thinking about more lately.

Some people come to me after, wishing they had just one more photo.

You don't always get a heads up. But sometimes you do — and that's worth something.

If this is something you’ve been thinking about for your own pet, feel free to reach out anytime. I’m always happy to chat.