I’d had this organised for ages and my husband wasn’t getting out of it, despite his aversion to any type of recording or digital photographic device. I hadn’t had any decent photos done since our wedding and even those weren’t done by professionals – just family members who were pretty slick with a camera click.
I was determined I was getting a few nice shots before I got too old and wrinkly to have something nice to look back on when I was too old and wrinkly, so the date was set in stone for when I could organise the photographer around my husband’s work schedule.
He grumbled a bit about it all but he grumbled even more when I told him that our dogs were going to be included in the shots, as I had missed getting my last two much-loved dogs in any good photos and I wasn’t prepared to let this happen again.
A bit of preparation was involved in getting myself ready for the photo shoot, ie, makeup, hair, the right clothes and clean teeth but that was nothing compared to the preparation that was involved in getting my precious dogs ready. My husband ‘volunteered’ for the grooming job, as I was working but he was ready to spit more than dog hair out of his mouth by the time they were finished. I decided to keep a low profile, as the stakes were high and I just wanted us to make it to the photographer’s looking like we all loved each other to create a bit of ambiance. I could come out swinging later.
I was feeling very pleased with our presentation despite the hair-raising, teeth-grinding ride into hell with my cranky man. He’d even spruced himself up with a clean, buttoned shirt and a shave which was a good sign, so I let it go. Just after we got through the studio door Ruby, my Bichon female, threw up all over the floor – no doubt the result of her hair-raising roll in the back seat on the way here. We were off to a great start.
We got a few good shots in with us and the dogs, me and the dogs, my husband and the dogs and the dogs on their own before my husband began to get a bit twitchy. He doesn’t like to stray too far away from his environment when he is home from sea and this was a foreign country as far as he was concerned. I had paid for a two-hour session but he managed to get back out of the photographer’s door to the car in under 68 minutes with the dogs in hot pursuit.
Thankfully, the photographer was fantastic and she had actually managed to fit in some great shots in that frenetic time period – enough to get a few favourites to frame for our walls.
We made the ferry in record time and I dropped him and the dogs off and left him to it. I wasn’t speaking to him and I was up for a bit of retail therapy to pacify myself.
He’s not off the hook yet though. I liked the photos so much I am booking in another session with the photographer in a few months’ time with my whole family, including my husband and the dogs. Let him throw a time-tantrum in front of my mother and see what happens to him.