The Flaky Truth: An Honest Update on Life & the Future of Licked! Pet Photography

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to share this for quite a while, years maybe. If you want to get technical, I started drafting this post back in January. It is now the latter part of May. That delay pretty much sums up exactly what’s been happening behind the scenes. Consider this your official warning that we are getting deep into the weeds today, so settle in.

Along the way, so many of you have continued supporting Licked! Pet Photography—clients, friends, sponsors, and the absolute best cheerleaders—and I need you to know that I see it and appreciate it more than you probably realize. But I also feel like I owe you some clarity, because from the outside, I know I’ve been quiet. And honestly? I am fully aware that I probably seem flaky af.

Here’s the unfiltered truth: my body doesn't operate on a predictable schedule. After a brutal case of COVID at the end of 2023, the several overlapping chronic issues that have always been in the background all came crashing to the forefront at once. It triggered a massive, relentless flare that completely leveled my baseline. It brings a very specific kind of exhaustion that isn’t fixed by a good night's sleep, and I don't get to rely on a standard, predictable capacity. When I push too far, my body doesn't just sideline me for a few days. I pushed myself way too hard last November, and I’ve been functioning on bare minimum for a majority of the time since. I've literally just gotten back into a flow this past week. I have to give myself grace where I can, so that I can in fact continue to show up where it counts!

I took these back in February specifically for this post. This is my day-to-day—I'm always freezing and usually with my hair on top of my head. These are the littles of the pack: George, Gus, and Gordie.
Gordie has since made a snack of my robe sleeve.🙄

To be completely clear: I always deliver for my clients. Always. I don't miss deadlines, but if I can take my time, I will. I am a natural night owl and mornings make the brain fog a million times worse, working before 3:00 PM is almost always a hard no. My brain just doesn’t work before then. Even in the afternoon, I might be a little floofy on an actual shoot—I might have to stop and think for a second—but it never, ever affects the final images.

There was a time long ago, when I had to have a video camera or disposable camera in my hand—I was vlogging before vlogging was even really a thing. But I can't do that, even though I really want to. Even feeling presentable to do short form content feels impossible so much of the time. It’s hard feeling like you're trapped in someone else's body. I've lost my style and that part of myself almost entirely. I am trying to slowly add pieces back. I have to live in a "Tomorrow will be better" state, or I would totally spiral. 
(And hey, if you’re out there navigating your own version of this and just need to vent, or if you’re just naturally curious and want to ask questions—my inbox is completely open. I’m that person, and I genuinely don't mind people asking.)

The space between what your brain wants to create and build and what your body will allow is a special kind of mental torture. I’m an artist, not just a photographer. I like to refurbish furniture, sew, design, paint, make jewelry, and so much more. But those personal things are always the first to be pushed to the back burner. I’m not just talking about big creative endeavors—I can’t even get to the simple stuff. Our dogs’ photos from January are still sitting on a memory card. My capacity simply doesn’t match my ambition.

When Nick and I moved here, I really thought it would be a clean slate—but a new address doesn't magically wipe away deep-rooted health issues. We bought a fixer-upper, because of course we did. I couldn't wait to get started on my ideas to transform it. Then the world shifted, and my physical capacity took a massive hit. Anyone who has been to the home studio has walked right through the reality of that disconnect. You’ve seen the half-finished projects, the missing trim, the incomplete floors, and the ever-evolving chaos. We are actively working on the studio right now, and hopefully, it’s actually finished the next time any of you are in it, but I certainly won’t hold my breath.

None of this would exist without Nick. He is my husband, my best friend, and quite literally the backbone of Licked! Pet Photography. Fortunately, he works from home for his own demanding career—sometimes clocking insane 60+ hour weeks—which is the only reason he is right here to help me manage the logistics of this business. He handles the driving, the errands, the heavy lifting, and tag-teams the studio prep with me whenever I need it. Plus, he has this natural way with animals that still surprises me, and maybe annoys me in the best way—like they trust him instantly, every. single. time.

But he is, after all, only one person. Between managing his own heavy workload, his own interests, and helping me keep our own pack of six dogs loved, cared for, and managed, he’s having to pick up the slack for my body. Naturally, that means our shared home projects are the things that end up delayed. I literally couldn't do any of this without him.

So, what does all of this actually mean for the business?

I realized years ago—around 2019 or 2020—that adoption photography was where my heart is. It took time to figure out how to structure it through sponsorships so it could continue. If I could do it all for free, I would—but this is where I want to focus my energy, and it needs to be sustainable. The sponsorships don’t just make the work possible—they help get more eyes on the animals who need it most. At the same time, I know I’ve been quieter than usual when it comes to sharing that work. I’m still photographing and doing everything I normally do on that side, but the sharing—the extra layer on top of the work—has been harder to keep up with consistently, and I'm on top of a solution for that too. I care deeply, but I’ve had to be more intentional with where my energy goes.

This is also where I’m going to ask for a little bit of grace. If you have an actual shoot booked, a hard deadline, or critical time-sensitive business, I am completely on top of it. I get the job done, period. But if we are just casually texting or trading emails? There may be a delay. I might take three or four days to reply to a message just so I can pace my energy. The quality of the final images will always speak for itself, but my administrative response time sometimes—not always, moves at a speed that makes a slug look aggressive.

I’m also changing the pacing of how I shoot what most of you know as "mini sessions." For our newly rebranded The Dirty Thirty drops, I am no longer stacking slots back-to-back. Moving forward, I am purposefully booking a full 30-minute break between every single shoot. It gives the animals a much calmer environment, and it gives me the physical buffer I need to actually survive the day without wanting to die.

I’m still figuring this out as I go. I don't have a perfect system. But the work—the art, the animals—they are what drives me. I’m not going anywhere—I’m just learning how to run a business in a way that actually works for the human running it. Because honestly, between the shot nervous system and the brain fog, it's a miracle I'm even showing up with shoes on. (And yes, I have actually forgotten them before.)

So yeah, things are a little messy behind the scenes, but the heart of this business hasn't shifted at all. If anything, protecting my energy means I'm doubling down on what matters most. If you want to come along for the ride, help support the rescue work, or just make sure you actually get a spot the next time I'm shooting, here is how you can get involved: