On 29 and 30 August I was at Schloss Oelber am weißen Wege with my glass plate. The "Mein Hund" show takes place in a real castle, and I'll tell you right away: of all the places I stood this year, this was the most beautiful.
I love the Middle Ages. I enjoy medieval markets, I love old walls, I love it when a building has been watching for a few hundred years. And then my tent stood under a wooden beam older than pretty much anything I otherwise know, on a wooden floor that commented on every step, in front of a red wall. I was as excited as a child the whole time I was setting up.
For two days I stood in a castle next to my glass plate and photographed upwards through it. One dog after another, plus the spontaneous ones who just happened to walk by and thought, let's try this now. And noticeably many hunting dogs, but more on that later.
Pria: the knot that burst
Pria is a mixed-breed dog, ten and a half years old, 23 kilos. When she arrived, it wasn't at all clear whether this would work out. She was afraid, and that was exactly the issue: can she do this at all? Her owner, I know that well, had already written it off in her head: this won't work.
So we took our time. No pushing, no "come on now". We lifted her onto the glass plate together, and then she was allowed to arrive first: look, sniff, think it over. We all stayed calm, her owner and I, and at some point the penny dropped. You can really see such a moment. The dog notices that nothing bad is happening here, that nobody wants anything from her that she isn't willing to give, and then it clicks.
After that she had fun. Not "she endured it", but fun. Pria otherwise hardly takes treats, and suddenly she took some and picked them up off the plate with visible pleasure. That's exactly when this photo was taken.
I experience this constantly, and it's the part of my work I love the most. Afterwards her owner was incredibly proud of her dog. The dog learned something that also helps her at the vet and on the next new surface. And I got to make both of them happy.
So this one sentence, if you take nothing else from this text: Go for it. Try it out. Not for the sake of the pictures, but because that's exactly what bonding work is. Spending time with your dog in which you achieve something new together is worth more than any photo that comes out of it.
Fiete, German Wirehaired Pointer, 35 kilos of good mood
Fiete is five years old and weighs 35 kilos. And he is exactly what people mean when they say wirehairs are "a little crazy".
The German Wirehaired Pointer is an all-round working dog. The breed was bred from the late 19th century specifically for hunters who wanted one dog for everything: searching, pointing, retrieving, working in water, holding the trail after the shot. Plus a coat that protects him in thorny scrub and cold water, hence the harsh wirehair with dense undercoat, the beard and the bushy eyebrows.
What comes out of that is a dog with an enormous engine and a firm will to think along. This is not a dog that wants to be managed on the sofa. Anyone who has a wirehair knows what I mean and probably loves him exactly for it. From underneath you can see this character surprisingly well. The paws are huge, the fur sticks out in all directions, the beard slides across the glass plate, and right in the middle a face that knows exactly that another treat is about to fall here.
Anyway: the hunting dogs
At Schloss Oelber there were noticeably many hunting dogs around, including ones you otherwise rarely see. Besides Fiete, the German Wirehaired Pointer, an Australian Terrier crossed my path and, my personal highlight, a Large Münsterländer.
You really don't see it often. In all of Germany only a few hundred puppies of this breed are born each year, and most of them go to hunters, because the Large Münsterländer has remained a pure working dog. A pointing dog, black-and-white ticked, large and calm.
Suki, English Cocker Spaniel
Seven and a half years, 18.4 kilos, and those ears. The English Cocker Spaniel is also a hunting dog, bred for flushing in dense cover, and the long feathering has a job: it swirls scent particles up while searching and pushes them towards the nose.
On the glass these ears fall away on both sides, and that's why I call them flying ears. Fan would be the more refined description, flying ears fits better because it simply looks funnier. From above you never see it like that.
Mailo, eleven months old
Mailo is a Mini Australian Shepherd, 22 kilos, and not yet eleven months old. Officially the breed is called Miniature American Shepherd, it was bred in California from small Australian Shepherds, and only for about ten years has it been considered independent. What remained is the head of a herding dog in a smaller body: it wants a task, and preferably immediately.
With a young dog that age it's not about standing still. It's about catching the one moment when all four paws are on the glass at the same time and the head isn't already somewhere else. With Mailo it worked: all paws spread, gaze downwards, the rest of him still in motion.
Diego, three kilos of fur cloud
Chihuahua, three years, three kilos. Long-haired, cream-white, and on the glass plate he looks about three times as big as in his human's arms.
That's one of the reasons I love this perspective so much. Small dogs are constantly seen from above in everyday life, from a height of one and a half metres, and automatically look cute and small because of it. From underneath that height is gone. There's simply a dog with spread paws, and it takes up just as much space as any other.
Fräulein Vilma
Bulldog, three years, 29 kilos.
What you can see beautifully in the photo: the folds. With a dog that has loose skin everything distributes differently from underneath, the weight lies on the glass, the skin settles in waves, and the paws press flat. Plus a face that looks as if she had just thought of a very fundamental question.
Mali, a Labrador through and through
Three and a half years, 30 kilos, female Labrador. And a textbook example of what goes on in a Labrador's head.
Look at the photo in peace. The front paw points up, the hind legs point somewhere else, the head is off in a third direction, and the gaze is fixed on something that isn't even in the picture. In that head colourful marbles are flying around, and at least one of them permanently blinks "food".
That's exactly what happens when food is involved: Labradors go completely gaga. Other dogs concentrate, a Labrador dissolves into its individual parts. The tongue hangs out, all limbs do their own thing, and that's exactly why this is one of my favourite photos of the whole weekend. Not a bit lofty, but a hundred percent herself.
And then there were the two of us
Because we can and because a castle is the perfect place for it, Lars and I put our own dogs on the glass plate and stood alongside. The dogs up on the glass, the two of us beside it, the camera under the pane.
That's the point many don't know: You can be in the photo too. You don't have to climb up anywhere for it. You stand next to the glass plate and look in from the side, your dog stands up top, and the result is a photo with both of you in it.
So if you're wondering whether such a shoot is only for the dog alone: no. Just tell me on site, then we'll do it.
Why I'll come back
The "Mein Hund" show at Schloss Oelber is small enough that it never gets hectic, and beautiful enough that you're in a good mood all day. The organisers have their own page for the event, where you'll find the next dates:
And the good news for everyone who wasn't there this year: jot down two dates in your calendar now.
On 3 and 4 April 2027 I'll be with "Mein Hund" in Mönchengladbach at the NEW Box. And on 28 and 29 August 2027 I'll be back at Schloss Oelber. Same place, same time, same atmosphere, and once again really good photos of your dog.
All dates for 2027 are on petspective.de/termine and can be booked from now on.