Imagine a younger version of me—'wee Shagly'—fresh out of the darkroom at school and ready to take on the world. Then, life happened and gifted me a back surgery as one of my spinal disks decided to 'leave the chat.' Surgery was the only option, and knowing I wouldn't be able to walk well for a while, I quickly photographed a few hundred adoptable pets and used my recovery time to master the digital side of media.

As I healed, I was able to work with even more animal welfare groups. I realized the story I’d been told about 'broken' shelter pets and the pets I was actually meeting weren't the same.

I have since traveled from the high-altitude rescues in the Andes to the vibrant streets of Tokyo, I met one happy, resilient soul after another. It taught me that while these dogs have a history, they are almost universally hopeful. They aren't waiting for pity; they’re waiting for a possibility.

I started to see them differently: Every adoptable pet is like a coloring page. The essence of the dog and their 'Pedigree of Personality' is right there in the lines—and their new family brings the color to their life. And just like coloring, the more time and heart you spend with them, the more beautiful the picture becomes.

Almost 2 decades later, I’ve been able to help an adoptable pet find a home for every single day I have been alive. You’ve seen my 'models' on national pet food packaging, in magazines, and on billboards. When I see those photos out in the world, I see a 'protest.' It’s my rebellion against the 'sad, broken shelter pet' stereotype. If a global marketing team deems these dogs beautiful enough to represent their brand, they are more than 'good enough' for a couch at home.