Momo, Part II

The Dogs That Change Us

I started to live a different life when I met Momo, but there are two examples of metamorphic change that always stand out: he brought me outside, and he gave me something to photograph. Momo brought me outside from the literal and figurative indoor wilderness of my messy mind, something I’d later realize was vital to my own mental health journey. As far as photography goes, Momo had the look, the demeanour, and dare I say the doggedness you’d hope to see in anyone that would step in front of your camera.

Do this right now to feel better: step outside, breathe some air, look up. Countless studies have shown that being outside has physical and mental benefits. Some studies even show that there’s even greater value to venturing to more remote places. Until Momo came along, I was surely an indoor dog. Sure, I had an urge to travel which had taken me on a few trips, but there weren't any life changing journeys just yet. I hadn’t even explored my own backyard: the vast and barren moonscape of Sudbury, Ontario. This land was traumatized by atrocious mining and forestry practices in the early 1900s which cleared the way for exposed black rocks, tiny trees, and wide open spaces.

This one. The one that rolled over and showed me his belly. This one wants to be Momo. August 8, 2008

In reality, this is a very simple story of a dog getting a guy to go outside more. I could tell Momo was getting bored of repeating the same walk in the same nearby park day after day (or more likely he was mirroring my own boredom). Naturally, we began to explore some nearby trails.

It’s important to mention that Sudbury is home of one of the world’s best examples of re-greening. That’s a far cry from a landscape that’s known for being the stand-in for NASA training due to the landscape’s similarities to the surface of the moon. The trees have seen a few generations since these efforts and nature is healing. Sudbury now boasts incredible parks within the city, and this became my therapy before setting our sights to more distant lands.

Same spot, same day. October 9, 2008

I carry the story of Sudbury’s transformation as a reminder that change is possible, even in the most dire environments. A dog is often seen as an example of adaptability, and a reminder of our own ability to rewire our neural pathways to overcome destructive patterns or to form more productive ones. Momo adapted marvellously from suburban dog, to trailblazer, to globetrotter, and showed me how to do the same.

I can’t say I wouldn’t have found another way to set my sights beyond the glow of the television if Momo hadn’t been there. I think there’s a truth in us that grasps relentlessly for a real world stepladder, and Momo happened to be mine. Ready, waiting, and willing to take me higher. There’s a part of me that believes that in this way alone, this dog saved my life.

On these trails is also where I first found Momo hiding. When people ask how I came up with the idea of Find Momo, I like to say that I didn’t: Momo did. Sure, he was mostly just waiting for me to throw a stick that he dropped near my feet, but he was showing me something very specific: an unparalleled ability to sit and stay. The world could be crumbling around us and his gaze would remain fixed on me. And that, too, can serve as a metaphor to the well grounded support he offered so effortlessly.

On the shores of Lake Huron. October 10, 2011

It was a collaborative effort to bring the concept of Find Momo to life: a human with the dexterity to operate a camera, and a dog with a very particular skill set. Growing up, I’ve worked best in collaboration with a creative partner. I grew up making movies with a VHS camera with my best friend Mike. I loved having a partner to collaborate with, but wouldn’t have guessed that I’d find that in a dog later in life. In the end, I'd come to realize that Momo was more of a creative partner than a subject or a muse.

I often say that Momo taught me how to use a camera. It wasn’t uncommon for me to be capturing Momo in our every waking moment, I was very much an observer of a rare animal, lucky enough to get so close. From my first Instagram photo to the thousands that followed, repetition taught me how to perfect my process, how to overcome my weak points, and what I really loved about my muse and greatest collaborator. Attention begets understanding begets love.

I prefer a fully manual process – shutter speed, aperture, focus, and ISO were mostly set to manual. My feet were my tripod and the sun was my light. When the moment arose, and Momo was in the right light, I’d set a not-too-shallow aperture, a shutter speed and ISO to match the light, half-pressed the shutter to make sure his eyes are in focus, wait for the precise moment his energized eyes pierced directly through the lens into my soul, and pressed the shutter. Now do this thousands of times and you’re likely to hone your skill a little bit, all the while you deeply connect with your collaborator.

During a trip through Revelstoke, BC. August 19, 2011

Early on, I was worried that looking at the world through a camera would take me out of any given moment. Looking back, I see it very differently. If we’re patient with our craft, if we pay attention (say it with me: pay attention) to the world around us, if we truly appreciate what’s in front of us, it very well might entangle us to the world. The attention will have us curious about the flora and fauna. The attention will connect us to the subject we’re capturing. The attention will make us aware of what time the sun will rise, when the tide will be highest, the current phase of the moon, and when and where it will rise.

This is the lesson of the dog. Life is better when we pay attention. Life is better with a sense of curiosity.

What better teacher is there than the one with four paws grounded on the earth at all times? I would imagine that if my hands and feet were always touching the ground, I’d be well aware of where I am at all times. If this is the way I touched the world, I’d know her temperature, the moisture content of the soil, which plants were underfoot, and so on.

This is the way I spent these first years and many years to come with Momo. A fully manual camera, an open road, and a world of experiences to be had with my best friend by my side. To learn about myself, to escape the entrapment of a seductive indoor world, and to exercise my ability to connect to the outside, open to whatever outcome, curious enough for the next story.

The smoke stack. 2011

I have no doubt that Momo changed my life more than any other one thing. The letters I still receive tell me that he continues to have an impact and I believe his message will continue to echo.

A lesson I learned after losing my mom in 2014 is that a relationship doesn’t end when one person is gone. This is a lesson I carry with me to this day. A relationship is entangled with our lives and continues to influence the way we experience the world. We carry the full relationship within us, not just half of it. When we lose someone, that relationship continues to evolve. Sometimes it’s a burden, sometimes it’s a gift, and sometimes it’s both. That’s the power of love.

For me, Momo’s story will continue and I believe it still needs to be shared and heard. His message and his love still burn like smouldering coals under the sand.

Best,

Andrew, Yaya, Boo, and Momo

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Pre-order my new book. Find Momo Everywhere is a whole-hearted tribute to Momo. A children’s book about dogs, love, loss, and nature. Written, photographed, and illustrated by yours truly.

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This newsletter was originally published in September, 2022.