STOP SCROLLING: This British Photographer Captured Dogs' Souls Like No One Else—You'll Gasp!

Unleashing the essence of joy

Authored by Teoti Anderson, CPDT-KA, KPA-CTP

Of all the gifts dogs hand mankind, their knack for putting smiles on our faces—even in the darkest stretches—ranks near the top. Our pups hook and delight us with their quirks, their goofiness, and their seemingly endless capacity for joy. But any owner knows snapping those magic little moments that make our four-legged pals so special is usually impossible. By the time the camera's out, the moment's gone—and no matter how we pose, bribe, or coax, we can't fake that spark.

That makes British shooter John Drysdale's work all the more stunning. Drysdale, whose wide-ranging career spans half a century, has made some of the world's most unforgettable dog photos—timeless frames that nail the true spirit and undeniable joy of man's best friend. Many are gathered in his latest book, My Love Unleashed (St. Martin's Press, 2002), a must for any dog or photography lover.

That Drysdale's drawn to shooting dogs and other animals isn't odd, given his unusual childhood. 'I grew up in a very remote part of Uganda, on Lake Edwards, surrounded by every wild creature you can name,' he says. 'We kept monkeys and bushbabies as pets, but no dogs at all—they'd have been eaten the first day.'

What the family did have was a cat—and a big one. 'Num-Nums,' as they called her, was one of three orphaned lion cubs Drysdale's father brought home in 1948. The other two turned too fierce to keep and went to a zoo, but Drysdale recalls 'Num-Nums won every heart by showing zero wild streak.' They kept her a while and found her utterly charming.

Says Drysdale, 'She'd carry her feeding bowl in her mouth and join us on long walks. By about 18 months, nearly full-grown, she was as tame and calm as Elsa, the now-famous 'Born Free' lioness, and as trustworthy as any family dog. Still, she needed 14 pounds of good meat daily and made locals nervous, especially on walks. So she needed a new home, which wasn't easy—South African zoos had lions to spare.' They placed Num-Nums at the Phoenix Park Zoo in Dublin, Ireland, but her leaving was heartbreaking, and Drysdale never thought he'd see her again.

Yet three years later, in Dublin, he visited his old friend. 'When I knew it was Num-Nums and called her name, she shot up and went alert. She'd lost her visual memory of me, but when I called again there was no doubt she knew my voice and got thrilled—maybe hoping I'd come to take her home.' Drysdale told the keeper, who thought him mad and wouldn't let him pet her. 'It was sad to leave again with no contact, and rough to see her 'in the wrong place,'' says Drysdale, but he was glad she was at least alive and well.

Not all Drysdale pets were so exotic, though some were just as dear in their homely way. After the family moved somewhere less remote, they had several dogs. One left a permanent mark on Drysdale's heart for his loyalty to Drysdale's very ill sister. 'Patch was a mutt of unclear roots, and he was tight with my sister, who had rheumatic fever and was in and out of hospital,' Drysdale explains. 'We lived outside Johannesburg, maybe five or six miles from the hospital. The dog was beside himself when my sister left in the ambulance and trailed it a bit, then couldn't keep up. We visited daily, and what must've happened is the dog followed our car as far as he could, then lost it at a spot. Next day, he likely went to that spot, waited for the car, and followed again. After roughly a week, Patch showed up at the hospital.'

Per Drysdale, the hospital was livid and barred dogs, but Patch turned up daily, waited for a door to open, and slipped inside. As he remembers, 'Patch always found my sister, and every day we were told to remove him. But one sharp doctor noticed my sister seemed better—her blood pressure, temp, everything—when the dog was there, and worse when he wasn't. So they talked and made an exception, letting the dog lie under the bed. It lifted her spirits a lot. The wild part was how the dog figured out the route. Clearly a smart one.'

Drysdale stayed spellbound by animals wild and tame, but in his teens found a new love that turned into a passion—photography. He started with an old box camera and soon wanted to develop his own film. Without telling his father, he built a darkroom in a spare 2,000-gallon water tank in the yard. It was often scorching inside, but worked fine—until the day his dad decided to move the tank. 'I was in it at the time,' Drysdale says, 'and the noise of it rolling meant he couldn't hear me tumbling around like a washing machine, my chemicals spilling everywhere. A rough start.' Luckily for Drysdale—and photo lovers everywhere—things soon improved.

Visiting relatives in England, Drysdale got invited to study at the esteemed Guildford College of Art and jumped at it. 'I only learned later that if I'd been British, there was a 300-deep waitlist for every spot. But they wanted to internationalize and, as the first person they'd heard of from Uganda, I got in. That flipped my life instantly.' At twenty, John Drysdale was well on his way to pro photographer.

After two years at college, Drysdale launched his career with a bang, landing a dream gig at the legendary Vogue Studios in London. Then as now, Vogue was the world's style bible, and Drysdale suddenly stood among the top fashion and portrait shooters. 'Vogue Studios hosted Cecil Beaton, Norman Parkinson, and many greats, plus known Americans who'd cross over to shoot for Vogue—English, French, Italian, American. A smart move for me, because after the war you couldn't get colour film—none around—but Vogue had endless U.S. colour stock. Another bit of luck.'

His first big job was assisting Beaton in shooting all of Europe's royals at Buckingham Palace after Queen Elizabeth's 1953 coronation. Though he and Beaton fought to get decent shots of some royal kids, including a wild Prince Charles and his lively sister Princess Anne, Drysdale found he loved shooting children. Over time he'd make many striking kid photos, often a child with an animal pal. He also became known for unusual cross-species bonds like 'Puppy Loving Chimp' (1970) and the famous 'Bulldog Watch' (1969) (see 'Cross-species Friendships,' Modern Dog, Spring 2004). Asked how he nails such gorgeous shots of children and animals—two famously tough subjects most shooters dread—Drysdale says, 'They lose interest fast, so you grab what you can at lightning speed. I always kept several loaded cameras with lenses so I could swap the second one ran dry. And you use what happens. I usually had someone who knew both the animal and the child helping. I worked with some again and again 'cause they were so good with both. With others it fell apart quick and went haywire. Overall, a fair bit of luck.'

There's also a fair bit of talent involved—one might say genius. But to the ever-humble Drysdale, his long list of publishing credits, shows, and awards—including British Press Pictures of the Year and World Press Photo prizes—he'll always kindly credit to a run of lucky breaks. If so, all this writer can say is: thank you, Lady Luck, for bringing John Drysdale's beautiful, joyful work to the world. ■

Susan Kauffmann writes often for Modern Dog. She lives in Vancouver with her Alaskan Malamute, Kuma, who loves a good photo shoot.

Why Faulty Foundations Cause Behavior Problems

Does your dog growl over bones, toys, or other objects? Growl when someone nears you? Bark and lunge at strangers, or startle easily? A new baby will only pile on his anxiety, so get help addressing this as soon as you can. Untangling anxiety and aggression is far more involved than teaching basic family manners—so call in a pro now.

Choose a trainer or veterinary behaviourist who uses modern methods. Back in the day, a growling dog was simply punished. That may have stopped the growl, but it only masked the symptom—not the reason he growled in the first place. Say your dog is scared of a crawling baby and growls at him. Yell at the dog and he may stop growling, but that doesn’t mean he suddenly adores the baby. He’s still upset—so he may skip the warning and go straight to snapping or biting. We don’t want that. We want to teach the frightened dog that crawling babies, for example, are wonderful. So find a professional who truly understands canine behaviour and how to shift your dog’s outlook.