How this began
Viñales, Cuba - where it began
I didn’t grow up with dogs.
In fact, for most of my life, I knew very little about them.
That changed later, in a way I never expected.
What began as a simple experience volunteering with stray dogs became something much deeper.
It wasn’t dramatic at the time, just small moments.
Quiet interactions.
The way a dog looks at you, or chooses to sit beside you.
One of those dogs, Cashew, stayed with me.
Not because of what she did,
but because of how she made me feel.
Something shifted, and from that point on, I started to see dogs differently.
Not as subjects.
But as individuals, each with their own pace, their own sensitivities, their own way of being in the world.
Cashew was one of them.
What followed
When I returned home, I began photographing dogs in my spare time.
At first, it was simply a way to stay connected to that feeling.
Over time, it grew into something more.
Not just photography, but a way of understanding dogs, and the relationships they share with the people who love them.
I found myself wanting to understand them more.
So I began learning properly.
Canine behaviour.
Handling.
Even canine first aid.
That approach has stayed with me ever since, and quietly shapes every photograph I take.
How I work
Dogs don’t need to perform to be beautiful.
They don’t need to sit perfectly, or behave in a certain way.
The moments that matter are most often the quieter ones.
A glance.
A pause.
The way they settle once they feel safe.
That’s what I look for.
Every photoshoot is unhurried.
There’s time for them to explore, to take in their surroundings, to decide when they’re ready.
Some step into it straight away.
Others take a little longer.
And they’re welcomed, just as they are.
The Experience
Many of the dogs I photograph aren’t used to being in front of a camera.
Some are sensitive.
Some are easily distracted.
Some simply prefer to take things slowly.
That’s not a problem.
There’s no pressure for them to behave in a certain way.
We take things at their pace, allowing space for their personality to come through naturally.
Often, those are the moments people connect with the most.
Who is this for?
This is for those who feel a deep connection with their dog.
Those who notice the small things.
The way they look at you.
The quiet moments in between.
Who value presence over perfection.
And want something that feels true to their soul dog - not staged or forced.
Because those are the moments that matter most.
More than just photographs
These photographs become part of something much bigger.
They sit on walls.
They’re revisited years from now.
They hold a feeling that’s hard to put into words.
Because the time we share with them never quite feels like enough.
And having something to return to matters.
If this feels right, I’d love to hear about the dog who is your whole world.
Recognition, quietly received
Over time, this work has been recognised in ways I’m incredibly grateful for, including being named Pet Photographer of the Year at the British Photography Awards.
It’s something I hold with appreciation, though the work itself has never really been about recognition. It’s always come back to the dogs, and the moments we’re able to keep.