This Chapter Isn’t the Last

Adam & Ash

Every now and then, life taps you lightly on the shoulder and whispers this matters.
That whisper arrived the moment we got Ash’s diagnosis late last winter…multiple myeloma.

Ash has always been more than a dog.
He was the heartbeat that carried us forward after losing Kaya, our first soul-dog, the one whose absence left the air thinner and the world quieter. When Ash bounded into our lives, he filled that space with a steady glow and carried us back into joy. He became our pride and joy, our soft place to land.

If you’ve followed along, you know that we’re currently celebrating a huge blessing:
Ash is in remission.
Those words are a gift we don’t take for granted.
But remission carries a shadow stitched to its edge.
The relief comes bundled with the quiet worry that it could return. Not today, hopefully not ever, but the thought hums in the background of everyday life.

Somewhere inside that uncertainty lived an urgency.
An instinct to bottle time while it’s still ours.

Through the years, Adam and Ash have formed a bond that’s hard to describe but easy to feel.
Adam, the calm and sturdy one.
Ash, the emotional sponge who fits his head into your chest like he’s docking to home base.

And here’s something I realized with a bolt of clarity:
I almost never photograph men with their dogs.

Maybe the women tend to schedule the sessions.
Maybe men assume photos aren’t “their thing.”
But the devotion is there.
Sometimes quieter. Always real.

So I turned the camera toward two of the beings I love most and made a little magic for us.

I knew Ash might skip his signature nestle in front of the lens. Dogs have an uncanny ability to abandon their most tender gestures the moment a camera appears. But it wasn’t about perfection.
It was about truth.
This chapter.
This love.

We headed outside to a familiar trail, just the three of us, and I watched the story unfold.
The wind brushed past them.
Adam smiled in the way only Ash can coax out of him.
Ash leaned in just close enough to say, “I’m yours.”
Every frame hummed with connection, even without the cinematic nuzzle I secretly hoped for.

These photos are treasures now.
Evidence of the love that rose from loss.
Proof that a dog can stitch a broken heart back together.
A reminder that remission is a word worth celebrating, even if the future stays slightly unpredictable.

And it also pulled a truth into the light.

Men love their dogs deeply.

They just don’t step in front of the camera as often.

Which means the stories of their loyalty, grief, joy, and partnership aren’t always being told.
I want to help change that.

So here’s my invitation:

For the month ahead, I’m opening a small number of Man’s Best Friend Sessions
designed especially for men and their pups.

Perfect for:
• the guy who trails through woods with a dog at his heel
• the husband whose voice goes three octaves higher talking to his dog
• the yard-tossing, sofa-sharing, treat-dispensing bestie
• the partner of a working dog
• the man walking through life with a senior dog who’s carried him through everything

You bring the dog and the bond.
I’ll help you freeze what already exists.

Because someday, you’ll be grateful those frames exist.
Because relationships like this deserve to be seen.
And because time may shift, but the photo stays.

If you’re reading this and thinking maybe someday, consider this a gentle nudge from a dog mom photographing her own story while she still can.