Growing up in West Yorkshire, Dylan Collard dreamed of having a dog – all the while surrounded by cats. Then he absconded from his feline-dominated family home to London to pursue photography, a job that took him on sporadic assignments around the world. A dog just didn’t fit in.
That was before a little, one-eyed – and very full-on – border terrier called Amos came along. “My partner finally talked me around, but I said that if we were going to have a dog, he had to be the best-trained. I had quite high expectations,” he says.
Collard found a dog-training school in Finsbury Park, north London, where a group of 30 people and their pooches would gather among the trees – “which were covered in squirrels, so you can imagine the energy”. As Collard and Amos advanced in their training, they got involved with dog competitions.
“I got drawn in by this strange world,” he says. “I knew there was a project there, but it was never going to be something that poked fun at people and their dogs.”
He tested the waters by photographing people in his training group and the wider competition circuit, and then began recruiting on social media. The project took shape as he travelled across the country and entered other canine-dominated dwellings, the details of lives lived with – and sometimes for – dogs.
Collard’s photographs are a rich tapestry of British dog owners. In two years, he took shots of 95 people and 225 dogs in their homes. Roles, responsibilities and routines vary in each household, which contain anything from supersized, seriously competitive packs to more casual single companions.
From London to Penzance, we see the dog-inflected interior lives of former army commandos, Crufts veterans, musicians and yoga teachers. Inspired by Martin Parr’s diaristic 1990s portraits of people in their living rooms, Collard would set up his tripod in living rooms, kitchens and conservatories, and let the dogs dictate the tableaux. He says: “I wanted it to feel genuine, rather than fixated on the perfect shot.”
The images prompted reflection. “I saw how much people change their lives for their dogs; how you see and move through the world with them; how you holiday and go to the pub. You have less flexibility, but you have access to a whole other view on life.”
Many of the dogs photographed have since had litters of their own or died, and packs have grown and shrunk – the series is as much a historical tribute as it is a living project.
“There is no correct way to live with dogs,” Collard, Yorkshire-based once again, says. Amos has died – he now has a fox red labrador called Edie. “You see the breadth of very intense relationships – but the love for the dog is a constant.”
Vera with Blake, Elijah, Logan and Skye
All photgraphs by Dylan Collard
“It wasn’t until I was 30 that I got my own dogs. I founded a dog training school 20 years ago.
All my dogs are rescues or rehomed. Skye likes to think she’s the boss, but she’s just a bit of a bully; Blake has iris atrophy, so has to wear sunglasses.
Living in the country means the dogs often carry leaves, twigs and mud into the house, so there is plenty of hoovering and towel cleaning, especially in the winter. But that just comes with the territory. We do a lot of trick training, especially with my youngest, Eli – he can play cards, basketball and even paint (using a pad on his paw). He’s a bit of an abstract artist.”
Rachel and Andrew with their 19 greyhounds and whippets
Rachel: “People might not think it, but we have a very laid-back household. We arrived at 19 dogs almost two years ago. You never set out to have so many, but people contact me about rescues, and I think, ‘Oh, what’s one more?’ By the sixth, it makes no difference.
“Our feeding routine is a bit of an operation. Some of them are elderly, or struggle to put weight on, so they’ll get some chicken wings in the morning. They get through three 15kg sacks of food a week and there’s always plenty of treats. Five sleep in our bed – any more and I wouldn’t sleep! The rest have four sofas and a few beds downstairs.
“I’ve been a dog walker for 10 years, so dogs are my job and my life. I have four adult children who love them, and a three-year-old grandson whom the dogs just adore. You’ll catch him wading through a sea of dogs in the living room. We’ve got two big vans to load them up in and walk the coast with. Maybe people think we’re bonkers, but it’s completely manageable. It’s a lovely life.”
Anne and Blake, with Eddi, Ember, Fate, Flick, Hudson, Indi, Sequin, Zactly and Zeberdee
“I’m a qualified behaviourist. Most of our dogs are ‘last-chance rescue’. I tend to take the ones that have bitten and can’t go on anywhere else. But any of mine that have bitten have never done it again.
“We made our home in Penzance with our 15 dogs at the time in mind. We’ve got half-doors, a massive conservatory, two gardens, and a barn conversion that was going to be a holiday let but that’s now a dog house. I’ve got 17 dogs around me at all times and it never feels like chaos. We live our life with dogs – not for or in spite of. We have friends over, and Blake’s little friends come to play, and no dogs pee on their toys.
“It was very easy when we had Blake. They love him more than me! He has his own three miniature pinschers; he got them as a present from his Nanny Nic, one of the country’s top breeders. My mum was a dog trainer of the Barbara Woodhouse era. We’ve always had tricky dogs. I’m very observant, I instantly know if one is a bit off.
“The public aren’t as dog-friendly as they’d like to think they are. It’s a different world to walk dogs in now. Even though mine are friendly, if they trip someone up, the law wouldn’t be on my side. But we can walk out of our back door and on to Penwith Moors and not see a soul for days.
“I have a rottweiler with one eye, bless her, and she’s my friendliest. People avoid her and I think: ‘Well actually, it’s the spaniels you should be careful of!’”
Mala with Indie, Monty and Lola
“I got into training dogs because of Lola. She’s 14 now and she’s so smart. She knows the tricks she has to do to get paid; she’ll jump through my arms for a chunk of cheddar. I promised Lola years ago that if she made it to 13, I’d let her eat any of the food she finds in the park. These days, she’s a bit blind, so we have to be careful when off-lead.
“Indie is unusual; he’s a seven-year-old picardy sheepdog, but he’s not the brightest or the fastest. Sometimes we get on the tube and I let him decide where we get off. I call it our random rambles. I love the dogs’ smell. Indie’s makes me think of a gerbil cage. Who doesn’t love to sniff their dog’s head? I’ll always be a dog person, even when I’m an old biddy in a motorised wheelchair. There’ll be a small dog in the basket.”
Chloé with Ted and Cinnabar
“I first got sick in 2011, when I was 13. At 17, I was diagnosed with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, and, two years later, with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. Mr Ted came into my life in 2014 when I was 16, when doctors still had no idea what was wrong with me. Before him, I didn’t want to live any more. I’d lost school, my friends, my gymnastics, any sense of a future.
“My dog gave me back my independence. I now have two, and they help me get dressed, tidy the house and unload the washing machine; they even take my socks off for me.
“I trained Ted as an assistance dog and we officially qualified, making us the youngest partnership in the UK. It was really lovely for me, because I’d had to leave school and wasn’t going to get GCSEs. He gave me new goals and we achieved them together. He’s 10 now. I got Cinnabar when Ted was seven so I could phase Ted into retirement, though he refuses to stop – it’s too much fun!
“They’re very spoiled, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. They go to agility classes once a week for fun, and have monthly private physio sessions with massage and hydrotherapy, and personalised diets that I home cook. This week was beef, salmon, spinach, blue mussels, quinoa and supplements.
“I’m training Cinnabar to compete in paragility – the Paralympic version of sport dogs agility. We’re working towards the world championships in 2025. Everything I do now, in some way, I have the dogs to thank for.”
Kat and Jenny with Alfred, Del, Gracie and Shanti
Kat (left): “Jenny and I aren’t together any more – and she now has five dogs and I have three! Gracie made history by being the first Aussie in the UK to get IGP3, the highest level of obedience training, and is about to be the first Aussie to compete in the National Championships.
“She sleeps curled up under my arm in bed and is always next to me. She grins when she’s delighted to see someone, but that can be dangerous as it’s always a precursor to epic headbutt jumps. She does headstands in bed after a good training session.
“She is so greedy, she’ll eat anything, even a tandoori – she has a stomach of steel. Her very favourite food is raw kangaroo chunks; she got those at Crufts this year in the obedience championships when she was the only female to qualify that wasn’t a collie.
When I compete, it is just me and my dog against the world.
“If I was thinking about who I’d want to be with at the end of the world, it’s always the dogs.”
Julie and John, with Bambi, Tallulah, Tuti-Fruti and Queenie
“We’ve just had a litter of 10 puppies, so that makes 13 rottweilers in our house currently. We’ve kept them for 28 years, and toured all over Europe in the van to compete with them. People get addicted to the breed; it’s our identity. The dogs are completely and utterly our lives.
“They’re very affectionate – I rarely go to the toilet on my own! Bambi is our famous boy – he was in Rag’n’Bone Man’s Giant video. He’s just retired at 11. Tuti-Fruti has just had her puppies, so I’m spending my days mixing up formula. When we breed, we give them to people on the condition the puppies are named after Elvis Presley songs.”
Ursi with Keith, Lucy, Mojo and Xia
“We have a very busy life. We do security at Cheltenham and we do Glastonbury festival, where people come up through tunnels to break in and we throw them back out. We’ve just done some cadaver detection for a missing man.
“Nothing compares to malinois. My dogs are better than 20 prison officers. I’ve been to the IPO [protection dog] world championships twice with them, competing in tracking, obedience and protection. My Lucy was once the most qualified dog in the UK; she is 12 and a half and retired now – not that you can ever switch off that guarding mentality.
“I breed malinois, but would never sell them as pets – it’s a waste of a good brain. Some people call them the Ferraris of the dog world, and that’s right.
You always have to be stronger and more switched on than your malinois, or they’ll take over. They’ve changed my temperament: I have to be focused. I can’t take them out if I’m ill or had a drink, and I certainly can’t take them to the park with friends. Still, we all huddle and watch TV on the couch together. But they want to train and work – it’s in their blood.”
Alice with Mozart
“I was always going to call my dog Elvis or Mozart. When I met him, I knew he was Moz – he’s too sprightly to be an Elvis! I’m a musician, so my life can be quite busy with gigs and studio sessions. I can take Mozart to a jazz bar and he’ll sit beside me on a stool – he’s a show-stealer. He likes Classic FM and Stevie Wonder, and we listen to soul and funk together in the house. He can be quite chatty, too, but not in the aggressive chihuahua way – I call it Mozart chat. It’s very comforting. But Mozart’s always the boss.
“I have a puppy bag I carry him around in. I need a hidden cam to catch people’s faces when they notice him on the tube or in the supermarket – grown, masculine men can crack a smile at his outfits. Mozart’s got a great wardrobe; a lot of ‘Adidog’ hoodies, a Liam Gallagher-style parka, some Burberry and Barbour. He’s very fluid with colour and style.”
Mandy with Declan, Domhnall, Duffy, Dàire, Floinn, Nuala and Reilly
“I got my first wolfhound, Fergus, 29 years ago. They’re such soulful animals, I can just look into their dark eyes and sink into them.
“We’ve experienced quite a bit of sadness in our house. We’ve lost three dogs in two years. They others snuggle into me when I need it most. A friend asked me if I could take one of my wolfhounds to see her sister who had brain cancer in hospital. I knew I had to take Declan; he’s such a gentle, kind boy. He went straight over to her bed and sniffed all the way up her body and kept kissing her head. When my mum was diagnosed with heart disease, Declan would gently kiss her in bed, aware of how frail she was. There are astounding moments of connection.
“We got Domhnall from Denmark. He’s a total lockdown boy – because we didn’t get him until he was five and a half months he brought with him a few problems. He’s the most overexcitable wolfhound ever. Duffy is our matriarch and protector. She’s the last one behind on walks to watch over us. The average age they get to is usually seven or eight, and she’ll be 10 in June. She’s our most vocal, too. Nuala is a huntress – for a girl, she’s very affectionate. She loves snuggling on my lap. She’s also in season right now, so we have a constant singing chorus of dogs. Floinn is a big teddy. We lost Reilly, the one on my shoulder in the picture, at just 11 months to pneumonia. Wolfhounds are susceptible to it because they’re a deep-chested breed.
“We were out of action for a good year after I had a hip replacement, but last year Floinn qualified for Crufts.
“I’ve an outdoor shower for their legs and undercarriages – especially lately – and we bathe them once, maybe twice, a year. They’re fed twice a day on good, old-fashioned, smelly green tripe. They get more supplements than I do, and organic vegetables. They love an after-dinner apple. Duffy can finish her dinner in 10 seconds. Then I’ll immediately remove her from the area, or she’ll nab someone else’s.”
Kamal and Neave with Cecil P, Fire, Great, Jungle, Sonic, Sugar and Super
“Since this photo was taken, my daughter Neave has grown up, and Cecil has died. This is quite a beautiful memory for us; he was a real family dog.
“I’ve always been dog mad, and now Neave is now, too. I’ve competed at Crufts a lot and done TV. For one show, I even trained rescue dogs to fly an aeroplane. When you train a dog for a sport, deep connection and emotion gives you an edge. At competitions, one day you’re flying high, the next your dog won’t heel.
Dogs are a great leveller.
“I have made friends for life because of our dogs. My daughter calls a friend whose dog I train ‘Grandma’. We never get to have our dogs for long enough, though, do we?”
• Living with Dogs by Dylan Collard is published by Unicorn on 30 April. To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy from guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
