Dog Waiting Outside A Pub For Her Master In The Freezing Cold

Very good title.

The side lighting is terrific, but my cynical side wonders how many viewers will factor this into the 'aesthetics' rate.

Yes, terrific, the way the light hits the wall and adds a golden touch to an otherwise all-grey picture. It seems to represent well the fact that the dog is the only ray of sun in its owner's life.

 

it's also a very funny picture to me, considering the sad expression of this dog as opposed to the happy party that must be going on inside this bar... Great picture ! Cheers.

Hi Marc,

 

This is the dog's owner. We stayed with him (the owner) much of the night as he drank beer after beer, mostly on his own (at least he - himself - was the only one he was talking to).

 

The dog was still there when we left. It was minus 2 degrees Celsius.

 

In a sideways answer to Carl (hello Carl!) - I saw the light first, then the dog.

 

Every Outback pub has a dog sitting outside the front door like this one was.

 

The dog outside Cameron Corner pub (300 K's up the dirt track from here) reacted to my pats and enthusiastic greeting in a suitably excited way. It was as if no-one had patted him for months until I came along. He and his female had a cutesy litter of soft headed, fat pups too. It was matrimonial bliss.

 

My sympathy and affection for the Cameron Corner dog didn't stop him from stealing my defrosting lamb chops from the camp site an hour or so later (when I went got chatting to the next door neighbours who had a lovely fire going).

 

The lamb chops being frozen, the dog waited for them to defrost. This took all night, as it was cold. In the meantime he asported them to a safe place, just outside the fringe of light from the camp fire. Next morning he dug them up from his stash hole and ate them in front of us. The little bastard! That's the last pub dog I take pity on.

 

The dog in this picture was the second last.

 

Most Aussie Outback dogs are either full or part Kelpie - a sheep dog - short-haired and pointy. They hate sheep from birth. This dog has the classic Kelpie head and body shape, but it looks like there's a bit of Border Collie thrown into the ancestry somewhere, from the black and white coloring (full-blood Kelpies are dark, ruddy brown all over, with two ochre-colored worry spots, one above each eye). Great dogs, but thieves - all of them.

I saw that very same dog on the very same doorstep in March 2002. It was a bit warmer then though. I didn't photograph it but my mate did and I just checked his photo and it is the same dog. Seems like she is indeed a faithful dog!

 

" I saw the light first, then the dog."

 

Maybe we could paste this quote and a thumbnail of this image next to Phil's dog on the home page.

The poor dog waited all night for his master. The dawn's light has special significance here, both for meaning and for aesthetic impact.

 

Great shot, Tony, but it makes me very sad.

I love the light,I agree with Lannie...about making me sad, I would prefer having a few beers at home beside my dog, than letting him freeze outdoor waiting for me...

That's amazing about the dog, Brett. I'd love to see a copy of that pic.

 

We need to get our timelines rights here: it was just before sunset, not early after dawn.

 

However, it was *really* cold, with a biting breeze adding wind-chill.

 

Dogs are the most wonderful creatures. That's why I resisted having one for the first 46 years of my life. Now I have two and am completely "dog aware". They just love you to death. That - for me - is the problem with dogs: how do you repay their loyalty?

 

There seems to be a rule about dogs not being allowed into Outback pubs. I never saw a one inside. They were mostly just on the doorstep, waiting.

 

If we humans had to wait like that we'd get bored and irritated. But dogs seems to have the "waiting gene" built into them. It's as if waiting is their job.

 

At least this dog had a choice. She wasn't tied up.

 

Footnote: at the Silverton pub (near Broken Hill), they have photos up of both a dog *and* a horse who were allowed into the bar. They both drank beer. The horse had no excuse (other than liking beer). He used to open the pub doors by main force. The dog was taken pity on because it only had three legs. It slipped in after the horse had done the demolition work. They are both buried outside the accommodation rooms at the hotel, together.

 

Apparently, the whole town (admittedly only about 50 people) came to the funeral. There's a small picket fence, a shady tree next to the grave, and a plaque to mark the spot. The plaque reads: "Mates Forever".

 

Incidentally, if you've seen "Mad Max II", the Silverton hotel and the area around the town was used as a location in that film. The car parked in front is a relatively permanent fixture. It's a relic prop from the film.

It's a very clever and human picture, Tony. A sad dog waiting for its Master in front of a bar door. I cannot remember this simple idea depicted so beautifully (what a light!) by someone else.I know your resentment to manipulations and cropping, but let me ask you, why not distort the photo a little to get rid of the slight door distortion ? One more question: Wouldn't the image be more universal and the idea - stronger if you crop out this beautiful hotel sign above the door? Though I anticipate your answers it's always a pleasure to consider your arguments. Regards. Blago

Is that Mad Max's car out front?!

The picture is published in a book of outback mates. It is called Outback Mongrel by David Darcy. You can check his website for some amazing dog photos www.daviddarcy.net

 

Really a cool shot....

 

A scene that many of us can easily spot in every town..but this one is different, has a different charachter and tells a story, that continues after the door..

 

ciao!

Blagoy,

 

I honestly didn't think much of this pic as a photograph, more a record of a scene I encountered. I'm surprised it's received so many comments. The 24mm lens has distorted the door a little and there seems to be tilt: things I didn't worry about when I first posted. Maybe I should have a closer look at this image. Thanks for the suggestion.

 

The pub sign works in my opinion, and - once again in my opinion - is worthy of recording. If the door had been a little more spectacular maybe that would have justified removing the sign, but on balance I'm going to keep it.

 

Incidentally, one of the things that makes this pic so "lonely" is the very blandness and impenetratability of the door: it has a sort of "Keep Out!" finality.

 

Thanks for all the other comments, they're quite unexpected.

 

P.S. Thanks for the tip on the book and web site, Brett. I'll take a look later today.

 

 

"I honestly didn't think much of this pic as a photograph, more a record of a scene . . "

 

Ok, I'll bite. What's the difference?

Carl,

 

One's taken as a snapshot that turned out OK, and the other's an altogether more serious enterprise.

 

A crasser definition: when you take a snapshot you say to yourself, "This'd look good in the album at home."

 

With a serious "photograph" you wonder whether you could sell it some day.

 

I told you it would be crass.

Aw Tony, I've seen you write a full page on less important matters. You've just rephrased the question. Why wouldn't this look good framed and matted? It certainly doesn't look like a candidate for any photo album I've seen.

I think I'm supposed to take that as a complimentary remark.

 

Ok, let me ask this: are dog pictures serious?

 

I know that many of "The Greats" have collated their dog pictures and published them. But mostly, I suspect, these are afterthoughts, dreamed up by an agent or publisher keen to squeeze the last buck out of a "talent" before they shuffle off the photographic coil.

 

I can't help thinking that this picture must have been better if there was a grizzled old Outback character sitting drunk (or sober) next to the dog, revealing to us something of the "human condition". This, in order to make it more acceptable as serious work.

 

The feeling I got from this dog was that she didn't really want her picture taken, but she was even more averse to leaving her assigned post. If this is true, it explains the look in her eyes: almost a coyness. Like a guard outside a palace who can't blink or otherwise be distracted while on sentry duty.

 

When I cite "dog pictures" as a genre, I don't mean official "breed" pictures, as these (in my opinion) rarely reveal much about the individual personality of the dog. Seems to me that "breed" pictures' whole purpose in life is to demonstrate a conformance of the pictured animal with pre-determined breed characteristics. "Breed" pictures exist to exhibit *lack* of personality or emotion, except in the finest detail, recognized only by aficianados.

 

To me, this was a good dog. She had a job to do and she wasn't going to let some wonk from the city interfere with her assignment. She must see a lot of travellers from this vantage point. I remember being a little offended that she responded only luke-warmly to my petting her: her master could have been emerging any moment and she wanted to be ready. As it turned out, he was hours away from that, and she was still there, hours later.

 

There's something admirable in her devotion to duty. But the question remains: is a photograph of that really worthy of serious consideration?

 

I have my own answer to that question, but I'd like to hear someone else's opinion, if anyone's interested in providing one.

It's interesting. You went in a different direction than I anticipated. Your focus just now was on the subject, the dog, and compared this to other dog pictures with an emphasis on a portrait, as evidenced by your inline image.

 

My goal was to first take it out of the realm of snapshot, although you used the word 'record', but the intention was to place it in a lower category, somehow, than photograph. I don't think that any subject automatically relegates itself to snapshot or record shot. That is, if the capture is taken with some thought towards light and composition, than it's disqualified. I would even go so far as to say that it would be very hard for you or most trained photographers on this site to take snapshots.

 

Now we could compare this photograph with the last inline shot and discuss which one had more photographic merit, but I would say simply that they're both good photographs taken with care and shouldn't be marginalized under any circumstances. Given the information that supports the story that you've told about where he is and why, I would think that makes the case that much stronger.

 

You said you saw the light first, then the dog, so there's a light versus subject versus story issue that might well divide us all if we had to prioritize.

(I see Peter and I were typing at the same time.)

 

Just for fun, we could also discuss the photographic merits of the 'Silverton Hotel' shot.

Carl, you said: "light versus subject versus story". Yes, that's the point.

I say this photo works because of the light and subject and story. All the three together.

(Could be found in every good photo, imo.) Light in connection with

the "visual" (aesthetics and technical characteristics), subject could be anything looking nice or at least interesting,

and story is the capability of the photo to make hidden things visible. I think also that a great photo should engage the viewer emotionally,

though I admit there are strong arguments against it. Next you said we could divide if we have to prioritise among the three major aspects.

Sure, we are different.Regards. Blago

 

I disagree with your intial comment with regard to cropping the top, but I too would have squared up the brick line on top, and would also have cropped out the small white things on the left edge. Tony certainly saw the things I've just mentioned. It's just interesting that we all seem to be taking this 'photograph' more seriously than he is. I don't think it's false modesty, but more along the lines of who is interested in what we see and think and why.

What interesting comments here....I love the woebegone stance of the dog. Faithful yes, sad too. The light, the unpretentious sign...the makings of a story and a fine photograph....

Thanks youse all for your comments (Peter will get that "Aussie" joke).

 

Firstly, the Silverton Hotel photo is the worst of the worst. Yet it is almost identical - in angle of view, light and content - to the "official" postcard shot (2 Aussie dollars, available at the bar), which will therefore make hundreds of times more money than a pic of a lonely dog on sentry duty at another pub a couple of hundred kilometres away.

 

I have to say that I just love dogs. I always have loved them and I always will. I didn't have a dog all to myself until a few years back when I received my first stray to mind for the weekend and ended up keeping him.... and a good thing it has been for the both of us too. The second dog was a Pet Shop Boy (my first ever pet shop animal), purchased as company for the first. They are brothers now. They do everything that dogs do together. One pees on a post, so does the other. One sniffs a rock, ditto for his companion. They sleep together (with me and the cat). They bark together at passers by. They both roll in something awful when there's something awful to roll in. We in the Dummett residence are a pack. There is joy when any absent member returns. There is despair when one leaves, however briefly. There are a few ground rules: don't touch the toes, brush the beards or give the cat more to eat than the dogs. One "cat" rule: if you're a dog, don't come too near the cat when he's hungry (which is often)... the cat becomes a little tetchy and is liable to swipe without warning at his canine brothers. As long as we follow this simple code, we all get along fine.

 

Whenever I meet other dogs I gravitate towards them. I never used to. It was always cats. But now I am aware of the universal brotherhood of dogs, I must do my duty. All dogs, all over the world seem to know each other. They are interested (sometimes too interested) in each other's welfare and happiness. So, when my dogs aren't with me and I meet a new dog, I tell them everything that's going on in Sydney, dogwize. Some stare at me uncomprehendingly (at first), some immediately react with interest. But in the end, the conversation usually goes smoothly and warmly. We dog people (I being the honorary dog) are a band of brothers, and sisters. Hence this dog picture.

 

White Cliffs is such an amazing place. It is now mostly mined out, but once upon a time was a fabulously rich opal field. To use the tired old cliche, "Fortunes were won and lost...". When I asked naively in the pub about whether it was "free beer" whenever a big gem was dug up, the crowd hushed at my naiveity. No-one ever lets on that they've had any luck, digging. Despite the undeniable order in the place (as in "law and order"), the "law" aspect is often absent. People have been murdered for a day's work. When the Australian Tax Office turned up in a three-car convoy once, a few years back, they set up a shingle in the bar: "Tax Audits Will Be Conducted In The School Hall From 9am Tomorrow. Miners Are Advised to Attend, With All Receipts." Needless to say nobody showed. Next night in the bar the Taxmen were advised their lives may be in danger. They left the next morning. In some big things White Cliffs has no law. Yet, in smaller matter of casual honesty it has an honor code all its own. Everyone leaves their car doors and their houses unlocked. There is little petty theft. Change is safe on the bar all night, even if the owner is outside, dead drunk on the way to or from the thirty metres distant lavatory. This landscape of honesty is not as heart-warming as it may seem. There is a practicality to it. It is assumed that anything worth stealing has been buried in the dead of night, somewhere out in the desert, with only the dingos and 'roos as witnesses.

 

Strange things are the norm in White Cliffs. When, at 6am the next morning after taking this picture, I asked a motel staffer where I could get a coffee, she told me that there were facilities in the reception area. Then, in afterthought, stopping in mid stride she asked me, "You *are* a guest here, aren't you?" I wondered why she would ask such a strange question. It couldn't have been that, after a night sleeping in the same room as an aggressively snoring Koert, my hair and face looked like I'd stuck my finger into a light globe socket by accident in the night, and my eyes looked rather like poached eggs left to go cold, could it?. "Why do you ask?" I said, with a winning smile. "Do you think I just wandered in from the desert?".

 

"Sometimes they do..." she said, and left it at that. White Cliffs is the kind of town where stranger things have happened.

 

Its charm is all in the mind of the absent resident or the prospective tourist. Its reality is different, and can verge on the sinister.

 

The light in the desert is a wonderful thing. this is not confined to Australia. I'm sure all deserts are the same. For one thing, you see sunset every night, and if you're up early enough, sunrise. There are no trees. At night the Milky Way is astonishingly close. You could touch it, it is so intimately a part of the desert's nightly scene. With a pair of binoculars you can see literally millions of stars, occasionally punctuated by a satellite or a meteor streak. A dot, with magnification, becomes a constellation. More than once I ricked my neck just staring at the unbelieveable majesty of the sky.

 

Yet photographically, there is little dividend in taking pictures of the flattest of flat earths. You have to wait for the light, and for a dog or an Outback "character" to walk into your viewfinder. You need to see the potential for beauty - or at least, interest - in a dull green door with a rusty sign on top of it. If you're lucky, you might get to have a chat with the dog first, and then go inside and meet her master, perhaps to have a beer with him. When you gently chide him about leving his friend outside, be prepared to be disappointed. In the Outback there are few pets. There are only vermin and workers.

 

Better to take up counting the stars.

 

 

 

 

 

"Firstly, the Silverton Hotel photo is the worst of the worst. Yet it is almost identical - in angle of view, light and content - to the "official" postcard shot (2 Aussie dollars, available at the bar), which will therefore make hundreds of times more money than a pic of a lonely dog on sentry duty at another pub a couple of hundred kilometres away."

 

Few of us would measure this photo in terms of market value. . . . and it would be possible to make a worse picture of the hotel.

 

The current article on luminous-landscape addresses this point, but again the lines are drawn too hard and fast for my tastes. I'd much rather put a bunch of images on a table and carefully count the milliseconds that each viewer spends on each one.