Bootsie’s favourite after dinner treatie is being let outside in front yard with us as the sun goes softly down into the fir trees. He crouches under my truck, and watches the neighbourhood dogs waltz by tethered to designer leashes.
With the summer slipping away from us the light goes to bed earlier, it moves in the sky faster. Sometimes it bathes the flowers in the front garden for only seconds before slipping away to undress for evening.
I am always at the ready with my camera, these golden hours will not last through the chill of winter, and must be captured for warmth in the cold days ahead.
Let me put on something more comfortable it will murmur… a real bait and switch, you think it’s going to come back out of the clouds and wait expectantly but it doesn’t return. You are jilted once again.
Bootsie crouches under the truck, he knows better then to fall for that line.
I patiently wait for as long as I can before relenting, and returning with the canned cat food tin, which is the only way Boots will be convinced to come inside. Who is fooling whom?
But before I do that, I crouch under the edge of the truck and click without seeing my subject, a series of under the truck shots of his world, filled with golden light.