Togo Goes Unretouched

I’ll let you in on a little secret. I don’t like having my picture made.

Yes, it’s true that I accept bribes from time to time to pause from my busy schedule for a picture. But I do it solely out of my love for treats. And, because Daddy’s face gets all droopy if I don’t let him take a few snapshots. (Additional secret. Daddy’s face is sort of naturally droopy. I just don’t want to contribute to its catastrophic slide into oblivion, so I feign cooperation.)

Despite my natural inclination to look away from the camera, Daddy has managed to get a few good pictures of me. I am pretty proud of most of them. For, except for some post-picture cropping, Daddy posts them unretouched. So what you see is the real me.

Daddy has taken a lot of pictures. And I don’t let him show all of them. For example, why would anyone want to see me eating my breakfast? Although, a quick scroll through social media does indicate that a lot of folks think that pictures of them eating show the best times of their lives. And then there are those people who came from conservative backgrounds who think that pictures of them drinking indicates some sort of life awakening. I only drink water and I have banned pictures of that. I can be pretty slurpy, at times.

And sometimes, Momma gets into the act and snaps a candid when I’m not being vigilant. Like this one when I was having to talk sternly to Daddy through the fence about being too slow in getting my morning walk started.

I think some of my favorites are the casual pictures when I’m just smiling. I usually smile when I think that Daddy isn’t ready to take the picture.

Daddy has been known to take the picture before I’m ready.

Occasionally, Daddy captures me in an epic location. Surprisingly, there aren’t really that many epic locations around Abilene. So Daddy adjusts his camera angle to make places more epic-er.

My most favorite poses are when I discover something really pretty and I just sit down by them. It’s surprising how slowly Daddy catches on. But if I sit long enough . . .

While I may complain about Daddy’s obsession with taking photos, I’m always reminded that pictures and stories help us remember good — and not-so-good — days. And remembering is a special kind of love.