When Vada arrived for her studio session, I met her outside so she could have some space to get to know me before heading into the studio. I never rush straight into taking photographs, and I give every dog the chance to take everything in at their own pace. They can sniff around, look at me from a distance, come over for a pat or a treat if they'd like one, or just watch while I chat with their family. Every session starts that way.

Once we moved inside, Vada explored the studio while I spent some time talking with her fur mum, Marty. Gradually, she seemed to be settling into the space, and it looked like we were off to a good start.

Then I picked up my camera.

As soon as the strobes fired, Vada reacted, and it was immediately obvious that she wasn't comfortable with the flash, so we knew we couldn't continue like that.

At this stage, we had a couple of options. We could move the session outdoors, which would have meant it was no longer a Dear Dog session, or we could stop altogether and try another day. The last thing I ever want in my studio is for an animal to be frightened or overwhelmed, and if that had meant cancelling the session, that's exactly what I would have done.

During our conversation, Marty said something that really resonated with me.

"Vada deserves to have her story told."

Straight away, I knew we had to find another way to make it work.

So I disappeared into the storeroom and dusted off my continuous lighting setup. It's not something I use very often, but I wondered whether removing the flash might make all the difference.

While Vada was still nervous, the atmosphere changed almost immediately. We slowed everything down even further, gave her breaks whenever she needed them, and followed her lead throughout the rest of the session. There was no pressure, no rushing, and no expectation that she had to perform. I also didn't want to create a gallery full of photographs of a dog who looked frightened. That wasn't the story either of us wanted to tell.

Once I realised we had the studio portraits we needed, we finished the session. Vada left the studio feeling seen and infinitely more comfortable than when she'd first arrived.

On her way home, Marty sent me this message:

"Just wanted to thank you for today. You were SO good with Vada. We really didn't know how she'd go, but so wanted her to be able to share her story. She's come so far. Letting her decompress at the end was perfect. She was chilled in the car and playing ball on return. She'll sleep well tonight.

You definitely have a gift. Thank you from all of us. She knows when someone really 'sees' her."

Reading those words meant a lot to me because they confirmed what I'd been hoping for all afternoon. Vada hadn't just left with some beautiful portraits. Vada had left feeling safe, and that mattered far more to me than the size of the gallery.

People sometimes ask whether their anxious dog will cope with a studio photography session, and the honest answer is that every dog is different. What I can promise is that I'll always work with the dog in front of me. If we need to slow down, we'll slow down. If we need to change the plan, we'll change it. If we need to finish early because we've captured the portraits that matter most, that's exactly what we'll do.

If you're in Melbourne and you've been putting off booking a studio photography session because your dog is anxious, I'd love to have a chat.

Every dog deserves the chance to feel safe, confident, and to have their story told.