Introduction

There is one last thing that I should tell you in this introduction before I go.

Of course, we have no way of knowing what exactly was happening in their lives, what was going on in their families at home at that time. Looking at their faces, seeing their body language and that of the dogs, we can only guess. These were boys facing whatever triumphs and difficulties nineteenth-century life was sending in their direction. For reasons lost in time, some of the dogs appear to be rather fortifying, if not protective.

This is not intended to be a history of photography book but if we were to imagine ourselves to be time travelers able to jump back in time and land near the Flatiron building in New York City before the turn of the century, we might notice that the theatre in all of its murky, cloaked, creative power was very popular at that time, That popularity coincided with the arrival of the larger cabinet card photography format which, unlike its predecessor, the card-de-viste, enabled a much broader stage and with it many more creative possibilities, the likes of which had not been seen before. Much creativity was expressed there, not only in New York but in hundreds of small studios accross the country. Beginning just two years after the civil war ended, such a novel format for having a portrait taken was a privilege not available to everyone. The boys donning their finest attire for their visit to the photo studio would have been typical at that time, while bringing their dog along was atypical and quite creative.

Regardless of various attire imperfections, the boys and dogs showed up and whatever they looked like on that particular day, theatrical or not, was captured for eternity. Most look brave and hopeful, not perfect. It was in that fortified, imperfect standing that I could see a connection to my own early life.

Upon first reading it might not be obvious, but visible within this book are two parallel journeys; one of boyhood and the other a dogs life. Both are relatively short in duration. Both are unique, one time events that pass by, never to return.

All that and probably more became loosely sewn together in this book. The threads are all there, whether they are visible or not.

There is one last thing that I should tell you in this introduction before I go. It is something that crept up on me really, but upon reflection belongs here.

I guess many of us have in our lives experienced a “Rosebud” moment or two. I certainly have had that experience, rather like a doorway appearing suddenly that you then find yourself, without warning, on the other side of.

One night recently as this book was underway, I was lying in bed reading and into my mind popped a sequence of events I had not consciously thought about for a long time. It was a little time capsule “Rosebud” memory.

I remembered a winter day years ago when I was around the same age as the

boys in the photos, I had taken my sweet, new, black-and-white puppy, Bandit, out for a walk in the snow. Off the leash, enjoying himself, he was suddenly struck by a car and passed away. It happened in a few seconds of time right in front of me. I remember it shocked me deeply. One moment we were in one place, and a few seconds later in quite another.

The instant loss of innocence for me and my little dog was world-shattering. I probably aged ten years that day. It was a slice of time that I wished I could get back, but obviously could not. Those ten minutes and that day still bring tears to my eyes. Of course, I survived and subsequently years later had another dog, Echo, but that winter day most certainly stuck with me.

I never thought about the connection between this collection, this book, and that winter day until recently. That realization took a long time to land, but there it was.

If I think about all the threads and connections in this book, perhaps the most important one is the realization that although the cabinet-card photography era ended—with those days now long gone—the dynamic between boys and dogs survives and resonates with many. That’s the good news, but there remains work to be done.

This brings me to the underlying purpose of this book aided and so much better expressed by my Humantific friends: It is not just to share history, but hopefully to inspire an expansion of appreciation for our dog and cat friends. The suggestion just made so much sense to me.

If you are inspired by this book, you can find a few participatory suggestions in the last few pages. Your voice is needed.

I learned a lot doing this book project. Above all, it has been a big reminder to me that our time here on planet earth is short, and we should do our best to make good use of it. I have made a promise to myself to be mindful of this every day. I know that clock is ticking.

In closing, this advice from Buddha stuck with me as well.

Your voice is needed. . .

“The trouble is, you think you have time.” This book is dedicated to the beautiful spirit of Bandit, my first dog, and to every dog lost and/or found not appearing in this collection.

Big love to all.

Emerson Cooper

FLATIRON DISTRICT NEW YORK CITY 1900

This is not intended to be a history of photography book but if we were to imagine ourselves to be time travelers able to jump back in time and land near the Flatiron building in New York City before the turn of the century, we might notice that the theatre in all of its murky, cloaked, creative power was very popular at that time.

That popularity coincided with the arrival of the larger Cabinet Card photography format which, unlike its predecessor, the card-deviste, enabled a much broader stage and with it many more creative possibilities, the likes of which had not been seen before.