"Triage" (or, how a project began...)

"I went to drop off some things at the shelter and somehow ended up spending six hours in triage," I texted in mid-March of this year.

"Of course you did!" came the replies, along with several laughing emojis.

My friends know me well.

Truth is, I really had intended to just stop in after an early morning shoot with a lovely man named Bard (yes, he had four legs), say hi to my pal and shelter vet Dr. Stacey Thomas and then be on my merry way back home. But, you know, I had my camera. And, new cases kept happening. So...I stayed and started taking photos, the kind I hadn't taken in months. I felt like I'd arrived in a familiar place.

For context, medicine has always appealed to me. The initial spark came through hearing my dad's stories from the ER where he first worked as a nurse and subsequently poking my seven year old head around his anatomy book during his medical school years. It was a particular connection he and I shared, although it wasn't until we found ourselves guardians of a small buff orange kitten whose mother had been hit by a car on a nearby farm road that I discovered that animals and their care were, unequivocally, my jam.

My parents had a dog named Osa who I was fortunate to know until the age of six. The runt of a litter and the star of their hearts pre-kids, I wish I could've known her better. She was sweet, incredibly understanding and impressively patient around the toddler versions of my brother and I. When she developed stomach cancer and the time came for her to pass on, I was the one to accompany my dad to the vet. Out of a mix of curiosity and care for both Osa and my dad, I think I may have asked to come along. To this day, it remains my one and only memory of seeing him cry.

We also had a lovely Newfoundland named Goliath, or "Go Go", who my parents rescued from a less than stellar situation, so animals were always part of the family. But, I'd dreamed of our house having a cat for some time - in fact, there was such a magical quality to this dream that I can still catch glimmers of it in my head today. Perhaps it was the Cat Fancy magazines at Wal-Mart that initially tipped the scale but I remember imagining how surreally cool it would be to have a cat wandering in the house or hanging out right beside me. And just like that, the Universe introduced Mikie.

Short for Michelangelo (the Ninja turtle), Mikie embodied full orange cat energy - energetic, feisty, cuddly on highly selective terms. His belly was a beautiful danger zone. And yet, while desperate to inform anyone and everyone about his self-perceived status as top cat of the world by picking fights he surely couldn't win at 9lbs soaking wet, he grew famous for walking me to school in 6th grade, leaving only after extensive verbal assurance that I was safe and sound inside. A man of contradictions, he was my first true love.

He had a mentor in Old Tom, the free-roaming fellow orange cat who was technically the next door neighbor's guy, but I like to think belonged to us all. Tom was quite special. A wise old man, we had many meetings on the front porch where I gave him more treats than is probably advisable for any living being while he lovingly drooled in my lap. I took it as my personal mission to ensure the similarly aged niece of said next door neighbor held him properly and not like a sack of potatoes when she visited (alas, she really struggled with this and my strong opinions about it have not changed). Unfortunate nieces aside, Tom taught Mikie how to "cat", which I can only guess included how to throw a good paw punch as an indoor/outdoor kitty as well as techniques in sourcing the sunniest nap spots, the latter of which Tom was an absolute expert.

Several moves, years and life changes later, Mikie and my mom moved to Arizona where he lived out his twilight years. It's hard to believe that despite countless abscesses and other scuffles, he made it to the ripe old age of 19. He eventually lost most of his eye sight and hearing, but his buff orange fur seemed to get only softer with time and my visits from NYC where I'd remained after university found him becoming more affectionate, curling up on the futon with me and purring by my head. What a gift it was to grow up together with him.

Mikie's departure rekindled the love of medicine temporarily lost after my dad's passing in 2000 and coincided with my self described 'quarter life crisis' in which I left the film post-production world for pre-veterinary studies at UPenn in 2009. But that love fell dormant again while I navigated another big loss that following spring (that's for another post), realized chemistry will never be my friend and relocated to the southwest, eventually becoming a photographer. I conceded that perhaps a role as a medical professional wasn't in the cards for me and I satisfied my desire to help animals by photographing clients' pets as well as volunteering my services to rescues and shelters. But time passed and lo and behold, a spark flickered when I found myself listening to Jo-Anne McArthur's keynote at the 2018 Animal Law Conference in Chicago about her work and newly developing agency, We Animals. Animal photojournalism? What the heck is that and how do I get into it? As I'd long debated how to go further than the pro-bono portraits for adoptable dogs at the local shelters, I wondered if this could be a path forward.

It also gave me pause to consider what I liked most regarding ER medicine - the perpetual fast pace and ability to access and apply a mental library of knowledge in minutes to problem solve for the betterment of others, it totally suits my can't-sit-still-hardly-EVER-altruistic personality. So, it wasn't a real stretch when I began exploring this new genre of investigative work as an animal photojournalist, the longstanding dilemma of "how do I do more for animals?" easing with every new assignment. Unpredictable, heartbreaking and wildly rewarding, it's a role that has taken me from the "Ruta del Fin del Mundo" in South America to the open bush of Africa to war zones in eastern Europe and beyond. A fusion of my creative skill set, chronic wanderlust and love of and for animals, it's a perfect fit.

I think my experience in this field is also what allowed the wheels to turn during that first clinic visit in March - providing the 'in the moment' mental foundation to ask the question: "How do I get IN the clinic? That's where a story is!" and immediately realize, "wait, I'm already there - keep shooting!" As I scrolled through images that evening, it was evident that the puzzle pieces from a long and winding life path were starting to come together.

And that's how, some fifteen years later, I'm back in the veterinary world, up close and personal to medicine, and in the position that fits me best: documentarian. Life is funny, ain't it? It's also how one unplanned hours-long stay in a clinic beget a new ongoing documentary story, "Gimme Shelter." Multiple clinic documentations, surgical triage recordings and a trip to south Texas to document an outreach event and regional stray animal crisis have followed, each experience reinforcing the gray, layered and complex nature of the shelter medicine and companion animal rescue world. It feels like a place I'm supposed to be and as part impetus for building this site, a story I'm supposed to be telling. I'm excited to take you all along on this developing ride - I know what I share isn't always easy to see (or even read about) but like anything difficult, the only way out is through.

Thanks for being here. I mean it!

Oh, and I might not be Dr. Molly, but I think the Great Bear understands and maybe, just maybe he's watching along, too. Happy Dad's Day, pops. Miss ya.