The Dog Who Was Always Meant to Stay | Heidi | June Breed of the Month | Indian Creek Park, Rutledge, GA
Some dogs find their way home in the most unexpected ways.
Heidi was never supposed to stay.
Caroline volunteers raising future service dogs for the Guide Dog Foundation and America's Vet Dogs. Her first pup — a male yellow lab named Hercules — graduated and went on to serve a disabled veteran. She requested a female black lab next, just to change things up.
She got Heidi. A female yellow lab.
From day one, Caroline had a feeling. A deep-down, hard-to-explain feeling that Heidi would be in her life forever somehow. She didn't know why. She just knew.
Right before Heidi was supposed to begin the final phase of her training — weeks from becoming a working service dog — the Guide Dog Foundation found a murmur in her heart. A mild case of Tricuspid Valve Dysplasia. She was released from the program.
She came home for good.
Caroline has a wishbone tattoo. It's the exact shape of the three lines that appear on Heidi's forehead when she's curious about something. A permanent reminder of the little heart condition that gave her this dog forever.
That's the kind of story that deserves to be on a wall.
June's Labrador Retriever Breed of the Month
When I opened June's Breed of the Month entries, Heidi's application stood out. Not just because the story was beautiful — but because it was the kind of story that proves what I've always believed about this work.
These aren't just portraits. They're proof of relationship.
The comments on our finalist carousel agreed. Heidi was the overwhelming choice — and when I reached out with the good news, there was a technical hiccup that meant the email never arrived. By the time we reconnected, I had already moved forward with our next finalist. So this June, we have two winners. Because just like Heidia was meant to be Caroline’s, Heidi's story was always supposed to be told.
The Session | Indian Creek Park, Rutledge, GA
We met on a warm Tuesday evening at Indian Creek Park — all 60 acres of it — just a few miles outside of historic Rutledge, Georgia. It was me, Heidi, Caroline, and her boyfriend Danny.
One of my favorite things about Indian Creek Park is how quiet it is. In the entire session, we saw exactly two other people — and both of them were already headed to their cars to leave as we arrived (one was my pickleball friend Jessica - how’s that for small town living!). For a few hours on a Tuesday evening, we had the whole park to ourselves.
We started at the top of the hill, where a wide mowed pathway runs between the trees with evening light filtering in through the canopy behind us. It's one of my favorite spots in the park — there's something about that soft filtered light and the sense of depth through the trees that makes it feel like you've stepped out right into a secret garden path.
We began with a few family portraits — Caroline, Danny, and Heidi — before moving into portraits of just the two of them.
And then we brought out the tennis ball.
The Ball Girl
I knew from Heidi's application that she was, in Caroline's own words, "a bit feral" about tennis balls. What I did not fully anticipate was that the moment that tennis ball appeared, it became the only thing in the universe as far as Heidi was concerned.
Which, honestly, is perfect.
When I'm photographing a dog who is fetch-obsessed, the ball becomes my best tool. The trick is getting that dog to look directly into the camera lens with everything they have — that full-body, full-attention, I-am-coming-for-you energy that makes action portraits feel like they leap off the wall.
Here's how we do it:
I set up about 30 feet away with my camera. I ask the owner to throw the ball at me. Not toward me. At me. Try to hit me with it.
The first time I explained this to Caroline, she laughed — and then threw it beautifully to my left, because she didn't quite believe me.
That image is fine. Heidi is running, she's happy, she's got great form. But you can see she's tracking the ball, not the camera. She's angled away from us.
Once Caroline really committed — and I mean really let it fly toward my head — the images changed entirely.
That expression. That focus. That dog is coming directly out of the frame. Those are the images that make people gasp a little when they see them in a gallery.
Danny was an incredible sport as our impromptu photo assistant — holding that absolutely disgusting, dripping, thoroughly loved tennis ball right on top of my lens to keep Heidi's gaze locked in for the slower portrait moments too. We got some stunning portraits of Heidi looking straight into the camera with that pure joy Caroline described so perfectly.
The Fairytale at the Bottom of the Hill
Once we finished on the hilltop, we made the hike down — and if you've been to Indian Creek Park, you know exactly what I mean when I say it's a hike. The hill is steep. In June humidity, it earns its reputation.
If the top of the hill is a secret garden path, the bottom of the hill is a fairytale grove. Mature trees, soft grass, and a beautiful fallen log that I've used in so many sessions. It has this quality that feels a little removed from the rest of the world — quieter, greener, more tucked in.
Getting Heidi to pose on the log took some negotiating.
She was willing. She was trying. She just didn't quite understand what we were asking for. We tried sitting in front of the log. Behind the log. All four feet on the log. And then — you could almost see the moment it clicked. Her head tilted slightly, something shifted, and she placed her two front feet up on the log like she'd been doing it her whole life.
And then she gave me something I didn't expect.
A closed mouth. A still face. An intensity that Caroline described in her application.
That image is one of my favorites from the entire night.
Two Images. Two Different Jobs.
If I were submitting one of Heidi's images to a competition, I would choose the log portrait.
The light, the tones, the deep greens against the gold of her coat. The intensity in her expression. That image would hold its own in a judging room full of strangers who have never met her and never will.
But if you asked me which image is Heidi? It's the one of her all four feet off the ground, ball in her mouth, catching that ball at full speed with absolutely everything she has a slightly feral look in her eye.
There's no epic backdrop. No rich, moody tones. No expression that reads as powerful to someone who doesn't know her.
What there is, is a dog doing the thing she loves more than anything else in the world. Completely herself. Mid-air.
A judge wouldn't know that image is everything Heidi.
But Heidi's mom will.
That's the difference between a photograph that wins a room full of strangers and a photograph of your dog you recognize with that feeling in your chest. Both images have a place. Only one makes you feel your dog.
I talked about this same tension when I wrote about Tartufo. What I'm always trying to do is make sure that when I'm shooting for a client, I never let the pursuit of the "better" image come at the expense of the true one.
Heidi's log portrait is beautiful. I'm proud of it. Both images are technically sound, in focus, well composed, properly exposed.
But the ball image is the one that will make Caroline stop and smile when she opens her album ten years from now.
That's the one that matters most.
Reading the Dog
From the log we moved over to the fence line, where we got some beautiful images of Heidi with Caroline — the ball, as always, our most reliable co-star.
I had wanted to try something I've done with other dogs at this fence — where I climb to the other side and photograph the dog peeking through the rails. It's a shot I love when it works.
Heidi had other ideas.
She didn't peek through the fence. She came entirely through it. We got her back, tried again, and she just looked at us like we were speaking a language she had no interest in learning that evening. We were deep into the session by then. It was hot. It was humid. The Georgia summer had fully arrived. She didn’t want to.
And that was her answer.
I hear that. I respect that.
One of the things I feel most strongly about as a photographer is ending every session on a positive note. I never want a dog to walk away feeling frustrated or confused. So when Heidi told me she was done negotiating with the fence, I listened — and I switched to my macro lens.
Up close. Quiet. Still.
Her eyes. The little wrinkled wishbone forehead that her mom loves so much she had it tattooed on her wrist.
That's how we ended.
About Indian Creek Park | Rutledge, GA
Indian Creek Park sits right on the line between Rutledge, GA and Madison, GA which can be tricky for GPS. The GPS glitch might be what makes it almost always deserted. And worth the about an hour east of Atlanta. This 60-acre park is one of my most-used session locations for good reason: it's quiet, beautiful in every season, and offers everything from wide open fields and wooden fence lines to the mature-tree meadow at the bottom of the hill.
It's especially beautiful for evening sessions in the golden hour light.
→ Learn more about Indian Creek Park as a session location
About the Labrador Retriever Breed of the Month
Each month I open one session to the public through my Breed of the Month program — a complimentary session and artwork credit for one dog whose story moves me most.
Heidi was June's winner.
→ Learn about the Breed of the Month program
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