It's a word that comes up a lot when I talk about former sled dogs. To be uprooted from all they know, to travel for hours in a van with people they don't know, popping out for potty breaks in new places, to another place that's wholly unfamiliar. Then be whisked away to strange places with more stranger humans and maybe new, strange dogs. It's a lot. For me, being a photographer means being an observer. A watcher. Other people 'do' and I 'watch'. I sometimes feel like I should put down my camera and help when I'm photographing a new intake of dogs - and I have at times - but I've learned the importance of documenting in a measured (and hopefully) meaningful way with the aim to allow others to bear witness to the work that goes on behind the scenes when new animals come into the care of rescues.
On January 31, nine former sled dogs arrived into the care of the Victoria Humane Society. I was there to photograph the event and met 8 of the 9 dogs. These sweeties were mostly as I expected in a group of sleddies - some were very nervous with full tail tucks and cowering, some were checking things out, some would not make eye contact and just did continue yawns and lip licks, I suspect trying to help calm themselves.
A few days later a meet up was organized for a Saturday afternoon. Herman, Kerri, Sparkles and Tig had been in their foster homes only 5 full days but once again, the sleddies were showing proof of their resilient natures.
Dogs that a few days ago were pretty terrified, got to sniff and see each other. Walk together.
But when I got home and went through my photos I felt something was missing from the set of images. In my mind, I'd gone in with some sort of expectation - something I generally try to steer clear of - but I really wanted to get a photo of Herman looking at the camera. Herman who I didn't meet on intake because he was so frightened on arrival he went immediately from the van into his foster home's car and off they went.
But Herman wasn't in to looking at me when I had my camera out, so I spent time crouched, waiting for him to come to me and then giving him chest and shoulder rubs.
The same thing happened with Tig. She's quite a nervous gal, but by the end of the walk, I caught her looking for me - or more likely the treats I had in my pocket. Cupboard love is alright in my books if it helps the dog learn to trust.
Kerri was very outgoing and stoked to go! She did a lot of leans in for pets, and paws for more attention and treats. It was adorable!
Sparkles did her own thing. Just observing the group, having a few sniffs of her mates and on to more observation.
In the end, my main focus of this journey is to share the existence of the former sled dogs that arrive into care. Their names and their faces represent a life not many are aware of.
But now they represent a team behind them, helping them recover.
And they represent resiliency.
Sleddie roll call: Herman, Jasper, Kerry, Sparkles and Tig.
Also pictured is a big Newfie dog that arrived as we were leaving so Jasper (who's been retired since 2015) had to do some awkward playing.
Thanks to everyone who came out!