Pet photography for Boston’s most lovable creatures.

Welcome to the blog of pet photographer Alexis Helmrath, owner and chief image-maker of The Unrivaled Paw!

Obi-Wan Update!

Remember Obi-Wan? I’m so happy to report that two weeks after the surgery to remove his leg, he’s doing great! He has also found a forever home (yayyyyy!!) and will be going home this week!

He hops and runs and pounces with all the other kittens, totally oblivious to the fact that he is a tripod kitty. This was all possible in large part because of your donations, and I know that Guardian Angels Cat Rescue is extremely grateful for your support!

PS – did anyone else notice that his eyes totally changed color? They’re not blue anymore! I always get a kick out of that.

Roo Roundup – Corgi Belly Flop Edition

Roo’s been very busy collecting great links for your weekend viewing pleasure. Now it’s time for his nap.

• It finally feels like summer here in Boston, and nothing says summer like a life-vest sporting corgi launching himself into a lake. Check it out on youtube: Corgi Belly Flop
• The warm weather has also brought seasonal allergies (oh joy!) – but did you know your pet can suffer from them too? The ASPCA has more details: pet allergies
• Is your pet a little roly-poly, and you’re not sure why? Maybe treats are the culprit (via Ark Animals).
• Slow motion video of a wet bulldog shaking himself. Heh heh.

That’s all from Roo for this weekend!

Welcome to The Unrivaled Paw!

It’s taken a while to get here, but I’m so glad we made it! I am absolutely delighted to introduce you to the newest iteration of my pet photography business.

I’ve been experiencing growing pains with the name “Alexis Hall Photo” for the last year since I got married. My name, of course, is no longer Alexis Hall. Understandably, this was confusing for a lot of people. I chose not to use my own name in the business since my new(ish) last name – Helmrath – can be difficult to spell and pronounce. So, after some serious brainstorming, discussing, and going back to the drawing board again…and again…and again…I finally settled on “The Unrivaled Paw.” It’s taken from a quote by Sidonie Gabrielle Colette, a French novelist born in 1873:

The cat is the animal to whom the Creator gave the biggest eye, the softest fur, the most supremely delicate nostrils, a mobile ear, an unrivaled paw and a curved claw borrowed from the rose-tree.

So that’s the story behind the new business name. It’s a brand new look, brand new name, but still the same old me. I will be refocusing the blog slightly to spend more time writing about things that are interesting to YOU and not just to me, so you’ll definitely want to subscribe to get updates in your feed reader or in your email.

If you’re interested in getting more in-depth news, special offers, and behind-the-scenes looks, you’ll also want to sign up for the newsletter.

The newsletter will be sent whenever I feel like it on a very strict schedule. Ha. Once every couple of months or so – often enough to be in interesting, but not so often as to feel spammy.

Finally, I’d be honored if you’d hop on over to facebook and like the new Unrivaled Paw page.

I hope you enjoy the new site and blog! As always, I’d love to hear from you – feel free to leave a comment or send me an email if you have any questions or feedback!

This is my happy face. I’m so glad you’re here!

A tribute to Tigger: one year later

WARNING: you’ll want to have some tissues handy when you read this post. If you’re looking for a lighter, happier read, please check out a very cute puppy from the archives, or come back tomorrow for a very inspiring goldendoodle.

A year ago today, I was doing some last-minute packing in preparation for our move the next day. Thumper and Roo snoozed on the floor, and Tigger was being his usual helpful self by chewing on the edges of the packing boxes and attacking the newspaper I was using to wrap up our dishware.

Except then…Tigger wasn’t his usual self. He jumped onto the floor, and something was obviously very wrong.

It only took one moment for him to go from a proud, fiercely independent cat to a scared, hurt cat, crying loud, piteous meows that ripped into my heart.

I thought he had broken his leg. He was dragging it behind him as he stumbled into the bedroom, his safe place. Thumper and Roo followed, concerned and upset by the noises Tigger was making. They’d only lived with us for two months, but they knew this wasn’t normal, whatever it was.

Several frantic phone calls later, Will arrived and we whisked Tigger off to the emergency vet.

It turns out that Tigger didn’t have a broken leg. A blood clot had traveled from his heart and lodged at the end of the aorta where the blood vessel separates to go down each hind leg, and his back legs were paralyzed (scientifically speaking, it’s called saddle thrombosis). The vet explained to us that with surgery and medication, it might be possible for them to remove the clot. The sympathy in her eyes grew, however, as she continued to explain what life would be like for Tigger after the surgery.

He would require extensive physical therapy. He might never fully regain the use of his back legs. We would have to help him relearn to use the litterbox, and he’d probably have to be diapered until he was strong enough to use the box normally by himself – which might never happen, because even after surgery and drugs and therapy and prayer, the odds weren’t great that the clot could even be removed.

The worst part was that even if we did all that, it could still happen again. Having thrown a clot once, it was much more likely that it would wouldn’t be one-time incident.

It didn’t take long for us to make our decision. Tigger was an active, happy cat. He loved to chase balls, to lounge on top of the fridge, to sit on the windowsill and chatter at birds. If he couldn’t do any of those things, what kind of life would he have? The fact that it was a very real possibility for him to have another blood clot and have to go through that whole experience again was what finalized our decision. We had never seen him in that much pain, and we couldn’t allow ourselves to hold onto him for selfish reasons and allow him to experience that again.

When they brought him back in so we could say goodbye, it wasn’t our Tigger. He was drugged to the gills, pupils completely dilated, and oblivious to our presence. Fortunately, he wasn’t feeling any pain. We kissed him, held him tight (while he struggled to get down on the floor and explore – that was our Tigger), and took a really, really bad cellphone picture of each of us holding him before he closed his eyes and drifted off to the Rainbow Bridge.

We left with an empty carrier.

I’m not going to post those pictures. I have so many images of Tigger – Tigger sleeping, Tigger stalking stuffed mice, Tigger surveying his kingdom from the highest cabinet in the room; that’s how I’d rather remember him. What’s most painful about that last picture, however, is that it’s the only one I have of just me and him. There are tons of him and Will, but none of me and Tigger. It breaks my heart that I never took the time to get a picture of us together, even if it just meant handing my camera to Will for five minutes. I never did it, and now I can’t.

If there is one thing you take away from this post, I hope it’s a burning desire to kiss your pet’s nose and take a picture with them. I’m not even saying you should hire me to do it – just take out your camera, grab your friend or family member that happens to be standing close by, and tell them that you just want a few images of you with your pet. It won’t take long, and if you hate all the pictures, that’s ok – try again tomorrow.

But please, be careful that tomorrow doesn’t turn into a week, and then months, maybe a year. Tigger was four years old. We thought we had so much more time with him, but we were wrong.

Beckham, Thumper, and Roo will all be getting extra treats today in memory of Tigger. I’m sure they don’t even remember him (and Beckham never even met him – the sad truth is that had Tigger not passed away, Beckham never would have come into our lives), but they’ll be thankful nevertheless.

And I’m thankful, too – not for salmon-flavored treats (not really my thing), but for all the joy and happiness and laughter that our pets bring into our lives.

The pain and grief that we experience when they are taken from us, whether or not we’ve had one year or five years or fifteen with them, is real and it’s awful and it hurts.

But if I had it to do over again, would I make a different decision? Would I walk away from the cat with the luminous green eyes that watched us so carefully at the shelter that day, knowing how everything would turn out?

Not a chance.

So here’s to Tigger – he could be an obnoxious little furball, but we loved him and we still miss him. I hope there’s plenty of catnip mice wherever he is now.