A word of caution: don’t try to shake hands with a 90-kilo greyhound cross. The nuances of the social ritual are lost on them, and if you’re like me, you’ll end up struggling under the weight of the two, socked paws pinned to your shoulders.
“Archie! Down boy!”
Nestled in Surrey Hills, phodographer Anne Clemann’s home doubles as a studio. And no, that’s not a typo.
Husky, a star subject. Photo by Anne Clemann, Creature Focus.
The pet industry is booming. It used to be a simple formula of Pedigree pellets and kitty litter, but now no one bats an eyelid if you chuck your chihuahua in your handbag or insist your labrador chew teeth-whitening treats. You can even check your pooch into a doggie hotel, for in this modern age, every dog will have its daycare.
No longer banished to the backyard at sundown, our animal companions now have regular hairdressing appointments and, for the particularly adoring, their very own photoshoot with a professional ‘phodographer’. Not a typo – a registered trade.
“Sorry about the wait,” says Anne, a short, make-up free woman dressed in a dark tracksuit. “I was out on a dog-walking job and found this lost Spoodle, and I just had to take it to the pound.”
She invites me into the studio, picks up her camera and whistles for her mammalian muse. But like a furry Linda Evangelista, Archie’s not going to budge.
Anne’s business, Creature Focus, is just one slice of the “massive” pet industry. She says while it initially raised a few eyebrows, nowadays no one does a doubletake when she tells them she’s a pet photographer. Pets have gone from being accessories to having their own.
“Some people just have an amazing adoration for their pets,” she says.
“I mean, there’s this shop in Sydney called ‘Dogue’, as in Vogue, that just sells dog fashion, that’s it.”
A mental image of Anna Wintour as a particularly prickly briefly Basset Hound commandeers my attention. What are we talking here – rhinestone-encrusted collars, or something more sinister?
“Well, I did this one shoot. The owner was this absolutely beautiful woman and she knew exactly what she wanted. I’ll just say that shoot included a series of costume changes.”
I ask Anne what the dog’s name was.
“Cuddles,” she laughs.
Of course.
* * *
“Archie! What have you done?”
The hallway resembles Martha Stewart’s worst nightmare. The stretch of carpet is littered with cardboard and plastic debris, the wreckage of chewed up grocery bags and fruit boxes.
“This is why I can’t leave anything on the floor, he just destroys it,” says Anne, wringing a frayed shopping bag from Archie’s slobbery gob.
Hanging in the hallway is a portrait of a Siberian husky, ears perked and bright blue eyes sparkling. I offer a generic remark about the breed’s reputation for being volatile in an attempt to exhibit some canine expertise.
“That husky was an absolutely stunning dog. But he would just not settle down…(he) got really hot under the studio lights, because those dogs don’t shed enough that they can cool down.”
She says the owners – a young, animal-loving couple, no kids – weren’t exactly disciplinarians.
“But it’s that thing where you can’t really discipline someone else’s child.”
What, like a hound-dog take on The Slap?
“Yes, something like that,” laughs Anne.
Archie mischievously chooses this moment to plant a wet one on my cheek.
“Archie! Get down!”
Undoubtedly, Anne’s onto something though. The majority of her clients are young, childless couples who have either opted deliberately out of school runs and PTA meetings, or are using puppy school as a stopover on the way to parenthood. If a baby is on the cards, why not use Fido as an opening act for the human headliner?
Looking around the living room, the only toys in sight are shaped like meat bones.
* * *
Since taking a “leap of faith” and swapping the water-cooler for the dog-bowl, Anne says she’s never been happier. While she does miss regular contact with two-legged coworkers, she’s doesn’t regret opting out of the daily grind. And perhaps the best thing about dogs is that they’re not bitches.
“I don’t miss office politics at all…(Dogs) don’t talk back and they don’t give you snide backchat,” she says.
With about 10 to 15 bookings each month, she’s starting to turn a profit and in January wrapped work on Pet Tails, a publication of photographic animal profiles collated for the RSPCA. Flicking through, I stop to admire the standouts: Napoleon, a regal cocker spaniel with a coat the colour of glistening licorice; a bug-eyed chihuahua called Peanut; two partners in feline crime, Sooty and Lucy, wriggling through a doggie-door.
With the silly season approaching, Anne tells me business will inevitably boom.
“Coming up to Christmas, the big thing everyone wants is the ‘Santa Paws’ shoot,” she says matter-of-factly.
“You know, the dog wearing the Rudolph nose and reindeer antlers, that kind of thing.” Archie, perhaps wary of things to come, slinks off strategically.
I imagine the scene – Christmas morning, a glittering tree, presents tied with silky red bows. But instead of giddy laughter (and the tears that inevitably accompany the phrase, ‘batteries not included’), there’s the odd woof or an occasional hiss.
Well, at least you never have to tell a dog Santa isn’t real.
