Some photographers view the craft of photography as a creative pursuit that enriches their lives on a deeply personal level, while others are motivated by income or social media attention. Some are driven to use their cameras to effect change. Self-proclaimed “dogtographer” Kaylee Greer is one such person who uses photography to tell the story of shelter dogs in search of a loving home.
These days, you are likely to find Kaylee traveling cross-country in an RV en route to a given shelter in Anytown, USA, on a mission to ensure that an overlooked dog receives the attention it needs to become a member of a family. She has seen firsthand how human lives can be improved by adopting a dog that wants nothing more than a chance to give and receive love. It’s the kind of dream project many photographers would love to be part of, but Kaylee’s story doesn’t begin with a noble mission or even a fancy camera. Some 15 years ago, Kaylee was a fresh college graduate in search of purpose and meaning in her life.
In 2010, I had just graduated from college and found myself staring my future in the face. At the time, it felt like looking into a black void—I was a lost soul, desperately trying to figure out what my purpose was on this planet. I was working for Apple, which was cool, but it wasn’t setting my soul on fire. I wasn’t particularly passionate about computers or how they were built; what I loved was the creative culture at Apple. It was a place where I could be myself—I could sport crazy, colorful hair and a big, unfiltered personality—and I felt free to be an artist and a dreamer. Apple was a pretty forward-thinking company, and they really embraced that.
Then one day, a customer threw his iPhone at me—he was so frustrated by some technical failure that he lost control. I thought to myself, “What the heck am I doing?” In that moment, I knew that troubleshooting tech was definitely not the thing that I was put on this planet to do. I really needed to find my purpose. I took a hard look at myself, and after some soul searching, I realized that the brightest light—and the greatest joy I could ever find in my daily life—had always been in the eyes of any passing dog. In that single instant, I decided to go to the shelter and volunteer to work with the dogs there. I had no big ideas or plans for what volunteering at the shelter might ultimately mean for me; I simply wanted to give something back to dogs—those creatures that had given me so much throughout my life.
When I arrived at the shelter, I helped out with whatever they needed on any given day. I usually spent my hours cleaning cages, walking and feeding the dogs, doing laundry, assisting with paperwork—you name it.
Kaylee discovered that the shelter used photographs of the dogs to aid in their adoption. Typically, a random busy and distracted staffer would quickly take a snapshot of a dog and share it online in the hope of finding a potential home. Although the photographs were not technically strong, Kaylee noticed that a single image had the power to rewrite the ending to a dog’s story. She connected with the dogs on a deep level, understanding the personality of each one, and felt that the images sent out into the world by the shelters in her area weren’t fully succeeding in capturing the beauty and distinctiveness of the dogs’ personalities.
At that time, the volunteers taking the dogs’ photos were doing the best they could with what they had. Most of the time they used phones, and the photographs looked like something akin to driver’s license pictures—there was no soul or spirit captured. It was hard to see any of the dogs’ personalities coming through. It was heartbreaking to volunteer there and see certain dogs languish in the back of their cages. The longer they stayed, the more they began to break down mentally. So after six months or more—for example—of no one noticing them, the little light in their eyes would start to noticeably fade.
Although she had little experience with photography, Kaylee grabbed an old point-and-shoot camera from home and began photographing the shelter dogs. The photos weren’t up to the standards she holds today, but they were a vast improvement over what the dogs had before. “People were starting to notice, to see this little sparkle of spirit begin to appear in the pictures. My photos were placed on online adoption websites like Petfinder, a platform featuring thousands of adoption profiles that list dogs by city or ZIP code, along with details about their personalities. One day, the shelter director came up to me and said, ‘Kaylee, you’ve got to keep taking these pictures.’ My photographs were helping people connect with the dogs in a way they hadn’t been able to previously. As a result, adoption rates increased drastically, and he felt that such a strong boost had to be linked to my photography. It was the first time in my life that I could use my skills to make a difference in the lives of the dogs I love so much—dogs that deserve a second chance,” said Kaylee.
Although Kaylee’s technical skills were limited in the early years of this endeavor, she understood the importance of humanizing the dogs. Simply telling people that hundreds of thousands of dogs needed homes didn’t have as much impact as sharing the story of a single dog in need. “It doesn’t touch your heart until you see the faces of these dogs, look into their little eyes, and see the souls in there,” she said.
Before long, the shelter began asking Kaylee to photograph dogs regularly. She started photographing up to 20 dogs per week and soon realized that each one was unique.
It was a masterclass in dog photography because I encountered so many different personalities and temperaments. Add to that the different sizes, colors, and textures—photographing a black dog is very different from photographing a white dog. It’s akin to the age-old problem faced by wedding photographers, where you have a bright white bride’s dress and a dark black groom’s tuxedo. I learned valuable lessons about exposure and composition every week. Some dogs are curly and scruffy, their fur catching the light in a certain way, while others are smooth and shiny, and so light interacts with them differently. There were incredible variations in anatomy of faces and features—for example, a Chihuahua has these big, bulging eyes, whereas a Schnauzer-type dog might have lots of dark hair hanging in front of its eyes,” said Kaylee. Working with so many different types of dogs forced Kaylee to adapt her techniques to best suit each subject.
All those variations taught me a lot about light and camera settings. When you photograph a human, you can ask them to stand in the perfect light and say, ‘Give me two minutes so I can look at this scene and set my aperture.’ But when you have a dog in front of you, he doesn’t speak the same language—and he’ll be moving at a million miles an hour,” said Kaylee. In time, Kaylee learned to use this lack of control to her advantage. At first, she envied the control portrait photographers had over their subjects, but in time she learned to embrace the chaos of photographing dogs.
I think what makes photos of dogs so special is that they capture moments that are not at all scripted. The moment being captured is uncurated. It's real. It’s authentic. Dogs’ expressions can be so big and over the top that when you do catch that lucky moment, you’ve truly captured a piece of their soul—and that can make the viewer feel as if they are in that moment with the dog,” said Kaylee.
As Kaylee’s photography improved, her work began to attract the attention of dog owners. People reached out asking if she could photograph their pets at home. Although she took these opportunities to gain experience and build her portfolio, she didn’t initially see the potential for a full-fledged dog photography business. Over time, brands started approaching her for marketing shoots for products like leashes and harnesses. These clients paid higher rates than were attainable shooting typical private sessions. It wasn’t until Kaylee was approached by major international brands in the pet industry for commercial shoots that she realized just how much potential she had to attract attention and make money with her camera.
I could do one commercial shoot and that rate would be equal to maybe 50 private client sessions. Ad agencies reached out as if money were no object. I came from a modest background where my parents worked hard to support our family, and here I was submitting bids for these big jobs, realizing, ‘This is what they earned in an entire year combined,’” said Kaylee. By this point, Kaylee had photographed thousands of dogs and had mastered using artificial light on location—both indoors and outdoors. Yet despite her success as a commercial photographer, something still felt missing.
One day, I was on a big commercial shoot with a huge creative team from the ad agency—even people from HR who really didn’t need to be there. There were craft services, food, art department staff, company representatives, and tons of money just being wasted. And then there was me, positioning a piece of kibble for an hour under nine different lights, shooting it from nine different angles. I was grateful for the opportunity, happy to do it, good at it, and I could deliver amazing photographs to my client—but I couldn’t help wondering: Was I really put on this earth to photograph kibble in a kitchen? Forty people standing around discussing whether a piece of kibble looked better turned this way or that way.
Kaylee couldn’t help but question the point of all that production and micromanagement. “My photography was being used to generate millions for a huge multinational company. And of course my intention is never ever to disparage any company—they have a job they have to do too, and I totally understand that. And man, oh man, I am truly grateful for all my clients—grateful they recognize my talent and passion and want to hire me. I’ve had some great experiences working with big brands; some have even donated large sums to causes I care about or to shelters I support. But it was in that moment where I couldn’t help but think that when I started photography, I was using it to change lives. I felt I was making a difference, giving a voice to animals who couldn’t speak for themselves. Now, I’m photographing kibble to help sell millions of dollars’ worth of dog food—and that didn’t feel aligned with my values,” said Kaylee.
Kaylee didn’t want to leave the commercial photography world for good, but she decided to take a year off from shooting commercially. She wanted to focus on storytelling and using her photography to help dogs once again. “You think back to certain photographs—like those taken in the aftermath of Hiroshima or that famous image by Steve McCurry of the Afghan girl with the green eyes—and you realize that photography can change the way you view an entire community or a global problem. It’s like the fires in LA; it's hard to imagine what’s going on until you see these heart-stopping photos and think, ‘Wow, this is a huge problem.’ And so I thought, ‘I want to harness that incredible power of photography and apply it to shelter dogs again,’” said Kaylee.
Kaylee then formed a nonprofit called the Dog Breath Foundation, whose mission is not only to photograph dogs in shelters across the country to aid in their adoption but also to teach shelter workers how to photograph the dogs themselves once Kaylee has moved on. Today, Kaylee travels in an RV to shelters across the country on a mission to tell the stories of dogs waiting to be adopted.
Most recently, our route took us to Kalispell, Montana; Astoria, Oregon; Lake Tahoe, Nevada; Moab, Utah; and Breckenridge, Colorado. We stayed for about a week at each shelter, looking for a dog in long-term care—a dog that had gone unnoticed for far too long. Some dogs had been overlooked for an entire year. Some, two years. It’s heartbreaking. So we take a dog out of the shelter and send it on its greatest adventure—that’s the name of our project, The Greatest Adventure. The Greatest Adventure has three meanings. The first meaning refers to the journey that our team is on—four of us traveling across the country for months in a fully branded RV. The RV displays information about shelter dogs and features a QR code with details about our work and how to follow the mission. It’s a true adventure that we share with the world through our YouTube series, documenting the entire journey and all the wild and crazy stuff we see along the way.
The second meaning of The Greatest Adventure involves selecting a dog that needs help. Often, this dog is older and has been in the shelter for a long time without being adopted. “We take him out of his cage and into the world on his greatest adventure—whether that means hiking a mountain, canoeing down a river, running through a field of wildflowers, or even getting ice cream. Whatever the dog enjoys, that’s what we do,” said Kaylee.
Time spent with the dog is professionally filmed using Canon cameras, a major sponsor of The Greatest Adventure. “We take the dogs to epic places and create photographs and videos that people cannot ignore. And that brings us to the third and final meaning of The Greatest Adventure: the dog finally going home. Finally,” said Kaylee. Because the team visits several shelters during their months-long travels, they are often unable to film the dog during adoption or in its new home. Instead, they rely on videos and photos provided by the shelter or the dog’s new owners to share that part of the story. To help shelters rehome the dogs in their care, Kaylee teaches shelter workers and volunteers how to take effective adoption photos that truly connect with the public.
You need to capture eye contact—especially those big, soulful eyes. Certain angles work wonders, and incorporating bold primary colors can enhance the connection. The dog’s body language is crucial; dogs are very expressive. If their ears are pinned back, their eyes wide, or there’s tension in their lips, the viewer might feel that the dog is scared—or worse, that the dog is scary. You have to photograph the dogs when they’re looking comfortable, with a soft expression, ears up, gentle eyes, a relaxed mouth, and peaceful body language. Sometimes it takes as many as ten trips outside to ensure they’re relaxed and comfortable with you and the gear. For a dog, a camera is a big, mysterious black box that covers your face, making it hard for them to read your expression. Dogs don't have the same strength of the sense of object permanence that humans do—when you pick up a camera and disappear, the dog can't always understand why. They get tense, and you can see it in their body language. I often see this in the work of newer pet photographers who haven’t yet learned how to read that language.
You might have a technically perfect photo with excellent focus and composition, but if the dog looks uncomfortable or scared, the photograph simply isn’t successful. If the dog looks uneasy, people won’t want to invite it into their home.
Shelters are open during business hours—say, 10 AM to 4 PM—and during that time the sun is overhead, and if the dog is in that sunlight, the shadows are very deep. Think of a dog’s long nose casting a shadow on one side of its face—it’s horrible, making it hard for the viewer to see what the dog truly looks like or what its personality might be like. That’s why finding what I call ‘legible light’—even if it’s just in a corner of the yard—is important. If nothing else, find some shade. Even if there’s a fence or another distracting element behind you, it’s still much better than being smack dab in the middle of the harsh midday sun. Most non-photographers don’t realize how crucial lighting is.
Canon donates a professional camera and lens for each shelter to use after Kaylee departs, and the lessons Kaylee teaches are put to use by the staff long after she has departed.
Reflecting on her journey from uncertain college graduate to professional photographer on a mission, Kaylee says:
It’s been an indescribably beautiful ride so far. But I think the very best thing that I’ve discovered through all of this is the unparalleled power that a single photograph can hold. We can wield these cameras in our hands for an incredible good. We can use them to shine light on the things that matter most—to give voices to those who have no way to speak for themselves. We can use these cameras to rewrite the stories… and ultimately—to change their endings. And there is truly nothing more wild and precious than that. I urge you to step into the world, and point your camera toward your own personal purpose. Of all the lessons I’ve learned upon the journey so far, this one is most important: with nothing but your vision, passion, and a well-chosen focal length—you can set the world alight with magic.
