From Romania to Chelsea: Photographing Dogs for Speranța Shelter and Why I'm Not Done Yet
Dog photography London | Romanian rescue dogs | Speranța Shelter | Ethical studio photography
I am not someone who says yes to everything. I have learnt, over the years, that saying yes to the right things matters more than saying yes to all things, and that the work which means the most tends to arrive in a particular way - as a simple question you find you cannot say no to.
Earlier this year, a comms agency got in touch to ask if I would photograph dogs at an awareness event they were organising in London, in support of a Romanian rescue shelter called Speranța. They asked how much I would charge. I told them I would donate my time and skills instead. I have too many rescue friends, and too much respect for the people doing this work without fanfare or recognition, to have answered any other way.
That event took place two weeks ago at Love My Human Townhouse in Chelsea. And what happened in that room - and what I have found myself wanting to do since - is what this blog is about.
The family behind Speranța - and why they stopped me in my tracks
Speranța Shelter was not built by an organisation. It was built by a family.
It started with Florina, Anca Tomescu's mother, who founded the Speranța Foundation in 1996 and established the shelter itself in 2001 - the year the mayor of Bucharest began ordering the killing of stray dogs in the city. Florina, her family, and their friends saved more than 300 dogs who faced euthanasia in a single night. That is where the shelter's mission - to rescue, rehabilitate, and rehome - began. Anca's father, a well-known engineer in Romania, worked to secure all the authorisations needed to run a private shelter, which at that time was something almost unheard of in the country.
Anca herself qualified as a veterinarian in 2003 - after, wonderfully, making a bet with her friends that she could pass the faculty entrance exam on the strength of the knowledge she had built through years of hands-on rescue work. She did. She went on to carry out animal welfare work internationally across Europe, India, Myanmar, Sudan, and Lebanon, before returning to take over running Speranța in 2017. Along the way, she and her team have sterilised more than 100,000 dogs across Romania.
And then there is Sara - Anca's daughter, who has grown up inside this work since she was months old. There is a detail on the shelter's website that I keep thinking about: when Sara was just a few months old, Anca went to Comănești to help rescue animals following devastating floods. She went with baby Sara attached to her. Parenting and saving lives, at the same time, in the same moment. Sara is now part of the Speranța team. Three generations of one family, and a shelter that has been home to hundreds of thousands of dogs across nearly three decades.
When Anca and Sara spoke at the Chelsea event, that history was present in every word. The passion was not performed. It was simply the way people speak when what they are describing is also what they are.
Speranța Shelter is based in Popești Leordeni, Romania, and has been operating since 1996. The name means "hope" in Romanian. It currently cares for over 500 dogs - strays, rescues, victims of accidents and cruelty, elderly dogs, paraplegic dogs, dogs who have been there for years and may be there for the rest of their lives. The shelter has its own veterinary surgery, a physiotherapy clinic, three playgrounds, and three swimming pools - all of it built over time through donations and the generosity of a community that has gathered around this work.
What Speranța does is not simply shelter dogs until they are rehomed. Their mission is to rescue homeless and suffering dogs, care for them until a loving and safe place is found, educate and empower the community about abandoned dogs, and partner with communities to sterilise roaming dogs in a humane way. They run rehabilitation programmes for dogs whose behaviour has been shaped by trauma, working patiently to rebuild trust and restore confidence in animals who have every reason not to give it. They run education programmes for children - because they understand, correctly, that changing how a generation relates to animals changes everything downstream.
The adoption process is considered careful and built around finding the right match rather than the fastest one.
They do not simply hand dogs to anyone who asks, and they are proud of that. To be clear: this does not mean you have to visit Romania before you can support or adopt.
Remote adoption exists precisely so that anyone, anywhere, can be part of this work from where they are. The invitation to visit is open and warmly meant - because they want people to see the work from the inside, and because Romania and its dogs deserve to be seen. But it is an invitation, not a requirement.
That combination - the rigour, the care, the passion, the absolute refusal to cut corners for the sake of numbers - is something I recognise and deeply respect. It is the same instinct that drives my own approach to photographing dogs. You do not rush the thing that matters. You do it properly, or you do not do it at all.
Listening to Anca and Sara made me want to update my passport immediately. That feeling has not gone away.
The dogs that came through the studio
I have two things I consider party tricks in this job. The first is that I can almost always tell which country a rescue dog is from just by looking at them. The second is that once I have met a dog, I will recognise them anywhere, any time, no matter how much time has passed. It is something about the way each dog is entirely, irreducibly themselves - no two are alike, and once you have really looked at one, you do not forget them.
Which is why, the moment the door to the café opened, and Moshi the Australian Shepherd walked in, I knew exactly who he was. We had met the year before at a Napo scentwork festival. He had not changed a bit.
The event was attended by journalists, trainers, a musician, and dog influencers, who sat together and heard about the wonderful ways Anca and her team are helping dogs less fortunate than their own.
A pop-up studio is a particular kind of challenge. The environment is unfamiliar, the light is controlled, the time is short, and every dog arriving through the door has a different threshold, a different energy, and a different idea of whether any of this is interesting or alarming.
Before it was time for photos, I stayed for the talks in full, because what Anca and her daughter had to say was not something I was willing to walk away from, which made the photography window tighter still.
My approach is always the same regardless of the setting: no dog steps in front of the camera until I am confident they are comfortable. Every session, however brief, begins with that. And on this day, with this particular line-up, that approach was what made the photographs possible.
Vinnie (the first distinguished boy you saw when you began reading) spent the talking portion of the event cheerfully flirting with every dog in the room. He is a sweet boy with an easy charm that made his session a pleasure. Hagi, the Japanese Spitz, is himself a rescue, which made his presence at this particular event feel rather fitting, and in front of the camera, he behaved as though he had been born to be a superstar, which he may well have been. Elmo is an old friend. I know him well, and true to form, he arrived ready to show off every trick he knows the moment snacks were involved, which was immediately.
Nacho is also a friend of mine - a Norfolk Terrier who loves food very nearly as much as I do, which is saying something. His owner, Gaynor, runs Woof About, and if you do not already know her work in the London dog scene, you should. Snoopy, I also know from being around London's dog community - a rescue with the most adoring eyes you have ever seen under a heavy brow, and a cheeky little underbite that he carries with enormous dignity.
And then there is Piccolina. I adore her. Her mum Teresa runs The Dog Vine blog and does so much for rescue dogs - not just in the UK but worldwide. Having them both at a Speranța event felt entirely right.
Biggie and Smalls were the Cavaliers - and the detail that makes their portrait one of my favourites from the day is this: I had met Smalls before, at a previous taster session. When I welcomed Biggie alongside him, I was meeting Smalls' biological son. The two of them were composited together for their portrait, which is one of those images that has a whole story inside it if you know where to look.
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The Brunswick Doggie Day - and what I had already decided
The weekend after the Chelsea event, I was at The Brunswick Shopping Centre in Bloomsbury for their annual Doggie Day, where I had been invited by an agency to run a studio taster session. It is the kind of event I say yes to when I can, because it is another opportunity to introduce dogs and their humans to what ethical, consent-based pet photography actually looks and feels like. To show that being in front of a camera can be genuinely enjoyable for a dog, not just tolerated.
But I had already made a decision the week before, while the Chelsea event was still fresh. My profits from the Brunswick studio sessions were going to Speranța Shelter.
It felt like the obvious next step. The Chelsea event had introduced me to an organisation doing extraordinary work with very little noise about it, and I wanted to keep the connection alive in a way that was practical and real. So I donated £500 to Speranța Shelter, and I intend to continue donating from my studio taster sessions throughout the rest of this year, whenever and wherever I am invited to do them.
How you can help Speranța Shelter from right where you are
One of the things that struck me most about Speranța was how many ways there are to support them, including from another country entirely. You do not need to travel to Romania. You do not need to be in a position to physically adopt a dog. There are options that fit almost any life.
You can donate directly to the shelter, where your contribution goes towards food, medical care, rehabilitation, and the daily running of a facility that cares for over 500 animals. You can donate here.
You can remotely adopt a dog. This is the option I find most extraordinary. Remote adoption through Speranța means sponsoring a dog that remains at the shelter under the team's care, supported by your monthly contribution. You choose the dog, you decide the amount and the duration - and there is no pressure, no fixed commitment. The shelter puts it well themselves: they do not want you to feel constrained, because pressure and constraints are not good for love. If you ever want to take the bigger step of physically adopting your chosen dog, you have priority. It is a long-distance relationship with a dog who needs one. You can explore remote adoption here.
There are senior dogs, young dogs, paraplegic dogs, and dogs who have been at the shelter for years - each of them with a profile, a photograph, and a story. I will warn you now: do not visit the remote adoption page if you are in any way susceptible to falling in love with a dog you have never met. Or do, and then simply decide to do something about it.
You can also volunteer. The shelter welcomes visitors - people who want to see the work from the inside, spend time with the dogs, and understand what nearly thirty years of this mission actually looks like. If Anca and Sara's story has made you want to go, that instinct is worth following.
Why this matters to me, and why I will keep going
I did not set out, at the beginning of this year, to make Speranța Shelter a part of my work. It found me in the way that the things worth caring about often do - through someone else's passion for it, through a room full of dogs and people who love them, through listening to a woman speak about her life's work with the kind of clarity and conviction that makes you want to be useful.
My photography has always been rooted in advocacy. Every session I do is built around the belief that dogs deserve to be seen properly - with patience, with respect, and without being asked to perform for the sake of an image. The connection between that and what Speranța does - the same patience, the same refusal to rush, the same understanding that trust is built slowly and cannot be faked - felt immediate and obvious to me.
So the donations will continue. From every studio taster session I do this year, wherever I am invited. Because it is not a large gesture on my part - it is simply what I can offer, and what I can offer is worth offering.
If you would like to follow Speranța Shelter's work, you can find them at sperantashelter.org and on Instagram at @speranta_shelter. They are worth knowing about.
And if you're looking for a dog photographer in London, you can learn more about my photography sessions here:
If this blog has moved you in some direction
Whether that's towards Speranța's donation page, their remote adoption programme, or simply towards wanting to do something meaningful with a photograph of your own dog - I would love to hear from you.
My portrait sessions are about capturing dogs as they truly are - present, alive, entirely themselves. You can explore what that looks like on my portrait page.
And if you book a studio taster session* this year, you will know that a little of it is going somewhere that matters.
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