Schroeder
Calgary AB

Rambles ahead.

As I sit here editing families united by marriage, and growing families I realize I have neglected documenting my own family. A photographer’s folly. I’ve always understood the importance of personal photography – it has changed how I approach each image, reignited my passion for shooting, and led to Wandering Homebody. Still I have missed one of the most important parts of my life. Family.

A few weeks ago I discovered a loonie size lump under my 7 year old dog’s left shoulder. A rather large lump formed in less than a week. From this point on in the household referred to as his ‘uniboob’. An appointment was made and he was taken in. The vet performed an aspiration – initial results were good. The third slide however had a suspicious mass of cells and recommended a complete removal of the lump later that day on account of the size and speed to which it appeared. I am horrible with goodbyes, particularly those that can not be explained. Hurriedly I placed Schroeder into the vet’s arms and left after signing the paperwork. Upon getting into my car I cried.

Since I was three every Christmas list has started with ‘dog’ (likely followed by ‘horse’ which I now imagine would not have fit into our city lot very comfortably). Every year I received a new set of pyjamas, underwear, and other randomosity that can be better appreciated by a little girl. There was never a puppy waiting for me under the tree and no dog mysteriously showed up at my front door with a sign around it’s neck saying ‘new home needed’.  To quell my childhood desires for a dog my parents appeased me first with goldfish. Piggy, Girly-girl, Timon, Pumbaa. One by one they all went belly up despite regular feedings, being sung to and having the best view in the room near the window. Next were Japanese Fire Belly newts. Elmo and Oscar. (I can see you are admiring my adeptness at naming pets) Each lived a full and happy life (except Oscar who unfortunately had an escape incident that landed him in a llama mat leading to a fungal infection that robbed him of each of his limbs prior to his demise. God rest his soul) and were buried in the animal burial ground at the corner of the house in coffins made of Kleenex boxes. Still, no dog.

Life circumstances led from a move from the home I grew up in and at the age of 14 after a full year of research I brought home Schroeder.  The puppy that kamikazed his way of three stairs upon realizing he had never encountered  the strange devices before. Ever since he has been my shadow and constant companion. I can honestly say nearly every single image that has been edited at this desk that you see on Brittany Esther and Wandering Homebody is partially brought to you by my lap space heater Schroeder. Right now his snores work against my music as I write this.

I cried. Not hard. Just a few tears, a little sob here and there. I wasn’t expecting to go home without Schroeder sitting shotgun looking at the window.

The news when picking Schroeder up wasn’t good. It was larger than she had anticipated and there was a very complex network of vessels. First throught: angiogenesis. Fast, extensive growth with a extended blood supply. All indicators of cancer. Waiting for the results was painful, I was convinced I already had the answer. I regretted not having more photos of him, not doing more with him, not taking him on more car rides. I realized if I was to lose him I was going to be heart broken.

Then the report came in (three days late). The lump was benign. There was no sign of the suspicious cells seen earlier by the vet. All was well. So much relief. I think I cried again when I heard that.

I’ll be taking more pictures of Schroeder starting now.

Everyone. The second member of this photography team: Schroeder.