Xena

Xena was my muse. She had big, brown, playful eyes, an uncanny natural sense of when I was taking her picture and a weird fascination with chewing tissues. She embodied her namesake as protector (yes, Xena, Warrior Princess). She was my puppy, even when she was up to my neck when standing, even at her ancient age of 16. She had the ability to lift me up from a grouchy mood after a long day of travelling from school or work when I’d come home to her jumping up and down, wagging her tail, begging for a belly rub. Dogs can’t smile but Xena smiled at every belly rub. In that way, she was like my north star, my constant. I’d always know what to expect when I came home.

  But, on my last return home from Korea, she had trouble wagging her tail. Her hind legs hurt too much. A belly rub maybe temporarily relieved the pain. My constant, in a time when people close to me were growing distant or newly made friends in Korea were leaving, she was changing, slowly fading but still trying so hard to wag her tail when she saw me. I had hoped, with having practiced taking animal photos at dog and cat cafes here, that I’d return and have another photo session with Xena. It was not only her beauty as a half-husky, half-German shepard that inspired me to take photos of her, but also her spirit and energy (which also let me practice patience when shooting animals).  Perhaps it’s best that she will be immortalized in photos when she was at her prime, when simple things like a belly rub and a game of tag made her content.

To Xena: Thank you for always being my puppy. 1996-2012.