2025 Wrapped – A Year Measured in Trust, Not Numbers

London Dog Photography Reflections

There’s a quiet intimacy that comes with being invited into someone’s life with their dog.

Not just into their home, or their favourite walking spot, but into the way they speak about them, the way their body softens when they say their name, the way they watch them move through the world. That invitation is never something I take lightly. And when I look back on 2025, more than the number of sessions, miles walked, or photographs delivered, it’s that sense of trust that defined the year.

2025 for me, was steady, grounded, and deeply human, shaped by dogs who made me laugh, dogs who taught me patience, dogs who were completely uncomplicated, and a small handful who quietly shifted the emotional weight of the year simply by letting me spend time with them.

a woman hugging her black and white whippet cross dog while he looks over her shoulder in black country park taken by london dog photographer amie barron

Trust is the starting point of every photograph I make.

The dogs who changed the weight of the year

There were a couple of dogs I met in 2025 who stayed with me in a way that’s hard to articulate without tipping into something heavier that I would want to burden you with.

Some are sadly no longer with us. One won’t have the length of life she deserves.

I won’t share details, because those stories aren’t mine to tell. What matters is this: spending time with those dogs was a privilege. Being trusted with them, especially during a chapter that carried more weight for the people who love them, is something I never take lightly. There is a particular kind of care that settles in when you know time is precious, and presence matters more than anything else.

Those sessions weren’t about getting “the shot”. Not that any of my sessions are, really, but more than any other, these were about safety, softness, and honouring what already existed.

They didn’t define the year, but they gave it gravity.

a senior spaniel dog posing happily between two trees in esher common taken by london dog photographer amie barron

Sometimes the most important thing we do is simply show up with care.

When photography feels easy, because connection is

People often tell me, sometimes with a laugh and sometimes with genuine concern, that their dog is going to be chaotic on a session.

The truth is, all dogs are easy for me to photograph.

Not because they’re all perfectly behaved, or because every session runs smoothly from start to finish, but because I spend time in their company watching and listening. I pay attention to body language, responses to sound and movement, and what each individual dog needs in order to relax and enjoy themselves. From there, the photographs take care of themselves.

Some of the standout sessions in 2025 weren’t memorable because of dramatic locations or impressive setups. They were memorable because I connected deeply with the humans, too. Sessions full of laughter, wit, quiet observations, and obvious love for the animal sharing their life. When everyone feels comfortable, when nobody is performing, there’s a lightness that can’t be manufactured and the resulting artwork speaks for itself in its authenticity.

Ease isn’t accidental. It’s created through presence.

a cocker spaniel running with his tongue out through the streets of the financial district in bank london, taken by london dog photoger amie barron

Joy shows up when no one is asked to be anything other than themselves.

A spectrum of people, one shared truth

If there was a pattern in the people I worked with this year, it was this: they arrived from very different places, but often held the same belief.

At one end of the spectrum were guardians who were convinced their dog would be too much. Too excitable, too distracted, too unpredictable. They trusted me to manage that, often because they knew I enjoy training, understand behaviour, and genuinely like working with dogs as they are.

On the other end were people deeply immersed in training, dog sports, scentwork, and enrichment. They spoke the same language as their dogs, and noticed the same small details I do.

What united them was the understanding that a dog, a cat, or even a hamster or a gecko makes a house a home. They wanted to celebrate that relationship thoughtfully. To create artwork that reflected who their animal actually is, rather than how they think they should appear.

That shared value mattered far more than experience levels or expectations.

Different paths, same love.

Slowing down and seeing more

I didn’t change how I work in 2025, but I changed how fast I moved through it.

I’ve been living with ADHD, ME/CFS, and PoTS for several years now, so this wasn’t a sudden shift or a new diagnosis. It was a conscious decision to slow down, to meet a very fast brain with a body that needs more care, and to stop fighting that reality.

Becoming a plant parent, meditating, and spending time self-learning neuroscience all fed into that slower rhythm. I’ve always been observant, noticing shapes, frames, and light that most people walk past without a second thought. Slowing down heightened that further. It deepened my connection, steadied me behind the camera, and made me feel more grounded while shooting.

I still vibrate, just a little less.

Slowing down creates space for seeing what’s already there.

Quiet confidence and changing measures of success

One of the more practical changes this year was stepping away from entering competitions.

I’d entered previously to help soothe my imposter syndrome, and there’s no shame in that. But in 2025, my confidence was at an all-time high. I didn’t need external validation in the same way. I have always known that the way I work with animals in any capacity has always been honest, and I trusted that and myself completely and let it lead me completely. In 2026, I plan to dabble with competitions again, but from a very different place. Not to prove anything, but to celebrate the dogs in front of my lens. For them, not for me.

I also did fewer pop-ups this year, while managing to do more charity sessions. I’d love to do more of both in 2026, finding a balance that still leaves space for rest and intention.

Expanding the definition of family

Some of the highlights of 2025 sound like numbers, but each one holds a story.

I photographed 77 dogs in one day for Napo Pet Insurance. A London record? Possibly. Definitely a joyful, slightly surreal experience.

21 Dogs met outside Windsor Castle, where I had the privilege to create the 21 Dog Salute image for the now Royal Kennel Club.

Across the year, I completed over 50 private and studio sessions combined. I photographed more cats than ever before, ten plus, along with a hamster, including a full hamster family portrait, and even some geckos.

I also convinced more humans to step in front of the lens with their pets.

This matters to me. You are the biggest part of your pet’s story. Your body, exactly as it is, deserves to exist in photographs as it is seen by a natural bystander. There are no false smiles or forced poses in my work, unless that’s genuinely your dynamic. Humans, like dogs, are treated naturally, photographed in a fine art, documentary, lifestyle hybrid way.

Because family looks different for everyone.

Small moments, wider world

One small but meaningful moment this year was meeting Niall Harbison briefly, someone I deeply respect for the work he does with rescue dogs in Thailand. It was a reminder that the love people show for dogs stretches far beyond our own streets and routines, and that care can ripple outward in powerful ways.

What I want people to understand

If there’s one thing I hope carries through this reflection, it’s this.

Dogs love us hard. They read us constantly, trying to understand what will make us happy. They are the foundation of our homes, our mental health, and so much of our daily rhythm. They deserve to be loved wholly, treated with kindness and respect, and kept safe.

When someone chooses me to photograph their dog, they’re trusting me with a family member. For that small amount of time, I become an extended part of that family. My role is to keep their dog safe, ensure they’re happy, and make sure they have a genuinely good time. Even the grumpy ones. Even the antisocial ones.

Especially them.

a keeshond posing on a stump in esher common taken by london dog photographer amie barron

Care is the foundation of every image I create.

Lastly, Happy New Year to you and the furry, scaly, or feathered friend you share your life with. I wish you all the best for 2026 and beyond.

All my best,

Amie


a french bulldog posing in a minimalist archway created by london architecture taken by london dog photographer amie barron

If your dog is your home, this is how I honour that.

You can explore my portrait work and session approach if this way of working resonates with you. No pressure, no performance. Just space to celebrate the relationship that already exists.

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