Читать книгу Dogtography - Kaylee Greer - Страница 5

Writing a book is hard. (Understatement of the century.) And all the tiny steps it took to get where I stand today were somehow even harder. There are countless hearts behind the one I call my own. People who have come into my life and sprinkled their particular brand of light through the streak of my reality. They’ve molded me, supported me, loved me, and inspired me into existence. In some small way, they’ve all had a part in the making of this book. For all the parts of these pages that are me, there are a thousand tiny parts that are them. Here’s my moment to make sure they know it:

Some people give you life and leave it at that. Others give you life and then teach you how to fly. How lucky I am that my parents came together to be two of the latter.

To my dad, Charlie, the brightest light in any room, anywhere on earth—thank you. You taught me genuine kindness. You taught me honesty. With your hands, decorated in the battle wounds and scars of endless years of hard work, you taught me perseverance. I will never be prouder to have the kind of dad that shows up in dirty jeans, with calloused hands and motor oil-covered shirts, rather than having the kind of dad who wears snazzy business suits but never shows up at all. I will never stop trying everyday to be just like you.

To my mom, Lauri, whose astronomical ability for support could carry the entire sphere of earth on her tiny shoulders—thank you for always believing in me, especially at those times when even I didn’t believe in myself. The kind of love you’ve shown to me cannot be replicated anywhere, in any capacity, in any corner of the earth. You’ve guided me through all the hard parts and cheered me over every mountain. You light up my life with love.

Together, Mom and Dad, you both taught me that I could do anything. And I believed you.

To my soon-to-be second set of parents, Fran and Dave, who have accepted me into their family with the warmest open arms. Their support has never wavered. They lent the money for my first-ever camera, believing in me from the very first moment I began to dream this very big dream. Thank you. This is a gesture of love that I will never forget, and one that I will never be able to properly repay. Your love and support drive me every day.

To Ted Waitt and Scott Cowlin at Rocky Nook—thank you for looking at me and seeing more than just a hyperactive, overexcited kid in red overalls. Thank you for believing in me and all my wacky dog hair-covered adventures, and for inviting me to be a part of the family of renowned and talented Rocky Nook authors.

To Maggie Yates, my kind and brilliant editor. Thank you for your hard work and for dealing with my many dissertation-length, emoji-laden, 1 a.m. emails. Thank you for knowing when to take out the extraneous stuff, but more than that, thank you for what you let me put back in.

To Scott and Kalebra Kelby, Jean Kendra, and the whole team at KelbyOne. I will never forget the kindnesses you have shown me and how you lifted up an errant redheaded girl with nothing but a camera, some dogs, and a dream. You helped me share my story with the world. Your support and friendship is a gift that I cherish everyday.

I am lucky enough to call some of the most talented colleagues in this industry my dearest friends. A handful of those legendary talents leant their patient eyes and ears to me as I navigated the challenges of the writing of this book. For everything from the cover design to proofreading the content: thank you to Craig Turner-Bullock, Terran Bayer, Charlotte Reeves, and Nicole Begley for your unending support.

To Joy, Meghan, Alayna, Emily, Paul, Doug, and Dobby. You guys rooted for me the whole way through—thanks for checking in and lending your hearts when I needed the shoulder of a friend. And yes, the last name on that list is a dog. As it should be.

To all the shelter dogs who have inspired me, to all the clients who have turned into lifelong friends, to all the fellow artists who have shared kind words, to all the perfect strangers who have followed my adventures and enthusiastically supported me over the years—thank you.

And last, specifically because he is the actual opposite of least: Sam. The one I’ve chosen to traverse the farthest stretches of the earth with for forever. (And who I’d keep choosing, over and over again.)

Sam, you are the shoulders upon which I stand. You are the sparkling, unshakeable strength of stone upon which I’ve built my mountain. You hold me up, so that even in the deepest swaths of dark I still catch a lucky glimpse of a blinking blanket of stars. You tip the light away from you, ever so gently, so its photons change course and flicker in my direction. You think I haven’t seen you do it, but I have. Your support is indescribable. As I sit here staring at this blank page dreaming up words that might be big enough to describe you, I find myself knowing better. There is no combination of nouns, adjectives, and verbs, in any cadence or any order, that would be sufficient to share with the world the exact kind of magic that you’ve brought to me. For every mile across those stretches of highway that we’ve put beneath our tires, for every death grip on your hand at 30,000 feet as we bounce through turbulent air in search of another adventure, for every shoot that leaves us mud-caked and laughing, for every lick of a lonely shelter dog whose day you’ve changed with your quiet love, I thank you. For every grain of sand in our eyes in whipping windy salt flats, for every bead of sweat in Costa Rican jungles, for every wounded shin on Virgin Island coral, for every Roman raindrop in our sleepy midnight eyes—all in the name of telling the stories of dogs across the world—I thank you. You’ve stood by my side through every dark night, and every brighter tomorrow. If it wasn’t for you serendipitously dancing through my life, I think I might still be wandering the earth, wide-eyed and searching for a reason. You were the compass that pointed me towards my biggest, scariest dream. The kind so insurmountable, you run away from it in fear, because deep in your heart, you tell yourself you weren’t built for it. But each and every time I muttered the words, “I can’t” you were by my side with one simple retort:

“You can.”

There will never be enough stars flickering in the galaxy upon which I could count the ways I thank you.