History of Dogs

This is a little history of every dog that's been part of my life — starting with the very first one, who wasn't even mine.

Lady

Lady was my dad's dog. She was two when I was born, and she looked after me like I was hers. She died the day of my Catholic confirmation. I chose my father and my dog over the church.

Carmen (1st she lived 12 weeks)

When I finally decided I was ready for a dog of my own, I found a Rottweiler breeder in Woodside and scheduled a Thursday pickup for my very first puppy — a little girl named Carmen. The breeder said to come Thursday because the litter was getting their parvo shots on Wednesday. So I showed up Thursday and took my girl home.

She was so sweet, but within a week I knew something was wrong. I took her to my vet and he said she had parvo. I told him that was impossible — the breeder said they'd gotten their shots the day before I picked her up. After I called the breeder, her daughter fessed up: she hadn't taken the dogs in on Wednesday like she was told. She went Thursday — after I'd already picked up my puppy. The breeder was devastated, and it was my first loss of a dog since Lady. There is nothing more heartbreaking than losing a puppy. The breeder offered to pay the vet bills, which I accepted, and a new dog, which I did not. I wasn't ready. - I don’t have any photos of her.

Gretchen

About six months later I found a new breeder and got Gretchen. Gretchen would live fifteen years. She lived with me in my first shared house in Los Altos, came with me to my first shared house in San Francisco, had her first litter of puppies on the back deck of my house on Corbett Ave, and moved in with me and Eric Martineau when I bought the house at 423 27th Street in Noe Valley. She moved with us to Mountain View in 1997, and when I realized my job carried a huge amount of travel, I decided I needed another dog to be her companion.

Alt

I didn't have time for a puppy. So I started looking and found a five-year-old male Rottweiler named Alt — a retired police dog whose owner-handler had to give him up because of a divorce and a move from a house with a yard to a condo with a small terrace. The interview process to become Alt's new handler was impressive. What I realized is that a police dog is no less a weapon than a gun, baton, or taser. After a background check, the trainers accepted me and I took Alt home. He and Gretchen became the best of friends, well dog friend, Larry Hern was his best human friend…

This is how my life with dogs began.

Gretchen & Alt together

Losing Gretchen and Alt

Gretchen lived to fifteen — a remarkable life for a Rottweiler. When she passed, Alt completely gave up. He lost his best friend and had no interest in going on without her. He was only nine, but he passed just weeks later. I believe he died of a broken heart.

For the first time in fifteen years, I had no dogs. I wasn't ready to replace either of them, so I waited a couple of years.

How I Became a Show-Dog Breeder (Carmen - named in honor of my 1st Carmen)

When I was finally ready, I started the process of trying to find a Rottweiler breeder. What I learned is that the Rottweiler had become such a popular breed that a wave of backyard breeders had popped up, and the AKC had come down hard. When I called the AKC, they put me in touch with a registered breeder in LA — her name was Davian.

I reached out, and she said she had a litter coming up with a female available. If my math is correct, she was $4,000. Davian emailed me a contract, which I will admit I did not read. I figured with the lockdown on backyard breeding you had to agree not to breed without permission — standard stuff. What I had actually signed was a very detailed agreement where I agreed to raise, show, and finish the dog. "Finish" means the dog would become an AKC Champion. Once the dog — who I named Carmen — was finished, I also agreed to breed her to a male of Davian's choosing, pay for the whelping and the litter, and provide Davian with the pick of the litter. Then the contract was complete.

I had never been to a dog show. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. But I can tell you the cost of completing that contract was in excess of $10,000 on top of the original $4,000 paid to Davian for the puppy.

There is a silver lining to this story.

Davian would show Carmen, and sometimes would have one of the top handlers — Perry Payson — show her. All showing expenses, including transportation, were on me. Once we got Carmen her championship, it was time to breed her. Once Carmen was ovulating and her progesterone was at a certain level — and the expense of this process was crazy — Davian sends me a frozen tube of semen and tells me to have my local vet inseminate Carmen. At the same time, she sends me an invoice for $2,000 for the semen — plus the FedEx overnight shipping for the frozen specimen. She charged me for everything, including her handling of what was technically still her dog, since ownership didn't transfer until the contract was complete.

The insemination did not take. I was wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into.

At this point, Perry Payson calls one of his clients — Alex Vorbeck, a top Rottweiler breeder in LA — and tells her the story. Come to find out, the dog Davian was trying to breed to Carmen was the son of one of Alex's dogs. Alex was so upset at what Davian was doing to me that she literally called me and said, "If you can get Carmen down to LA, I will breed her to my dog — no fee — and we will get Davian her puppy and get you out of this horrible contract."

I had never met Alex. She did all of this over the phone. She took care of selling the rest of the puppies and shared the revenue and expenses with me. In that moment, I knew I had found a true friend and the most honest business person I'd ever met. This would be the beginning of a nearly twenty-year friendship and business relationship.

The Little Aliens

If you've ever seen the movie Best in Show — it is not an exaggeration. It is literally how dog shows go and how interesting the owners are.

So we now have Carmen. I'm dating Luke Fry and we're living in our big house in Mountain View. During one of the showing weekends, one of the handlers — Chris — called and asked if, when he was dropping off Carmen, it was okay to let the other dogs out to go to the bathroom. I said of course.

Let me set the scene. A black Chevy Suburban pulls up — very Secret Service, tinted windows. Chris opens the back of the SUV and each cage, and out comes Carmen, three other Rottweilers, and three little aliens. Dogs I had never seen before.

I asked Chris, "What are those?"

He said, "Oh, those are French Bulldogs."

My first reaction: "Don't you worry they might get hurt by the big Rottweilers?"

Chris laughed at me. "The French Bulldogs run the Rottweilers."

I said, "What?"

He looked at one of the male Frenchies and said, "Ringo, get the dogs in the truck."

I had put Carmen in the house at this point. That French Bulldog herded every single Rottweiler back into the truck. Then the other two Frenchies waited patiently to be lifted into their cages. And finally, Ringo got loaded last — up front with Chris.

I was blown away.

Kiera

I told Luke about the French Bulldogs, and he said, "Well, maybe we get me a little Frenchie." So he started looking for local breeders. We met one in San Jose and picked out a cute grey and white one. He named her Kiera.

We would quickly learn — unless you get AKC paperwork, there are many breeders who are mixing breeds. In our case, Kiera turned out to be a French Bulldog / Boston Terrier mix. Of course, you don't learn that until the dog is about a year old. But we loved her anyway and kept her.

How the French Bulldog Breeding Started

At this point, Perry Payson — who had handled Carmen for us — got wind that we were interested in French Bulldogs. So he started sending me photos of puppies.

The first was a little boy. I sent the photo to Luke and he said, "No more dogs." So I told Perry no thanks.

Then when Luke got back from school, he said, "Gosh, that dog was cute. Maybe we can do one more."

I let Perry know we were interested, but he said that dog was already gone — less than twenty-four hours. These were top puppies.

So the next one that came across my email — a little fawn girl — I sent it to Luke at school. He said yes. I told Perry we'd take her.

The story gets really funny.

Alex also gets photos of all the puppies, and she might have been the one who took the little boy. But when the little fawn girl came across, Alex also said yes. Luke and I said yes first, so Perry told Alex, "Tony is getting the fawn girl."

Alex immediately calls me. "Hey, I heard you're getting the little fawn girl. You okay breeding her with my top male Ringo?"

I said of course — it was the least I could do for her after she got me out of the horrible situation with Davian.

That conversation became the beginning of my show-dog breeding career.

Lilly and Ringo — The First Litter

At two years old, Lilly — that's what we named the little fawn girl — was bred with Ringo. Ringo was a brindle and Lilly was a fawn, so they had three puppies: one fawn male and two girls — one fawn and one brindle.

It was my first whelping of Frenchies, and I quickly learned you need to watch them around the clock. I accidentally fell asleep, and Lilly accidentally suffocated the boy. We were left with two girls — one would go to Alex and one would stay with me.

Of course, these were AKC show dogs, so both were to go to show homes. Alex placed her girl and I placed mine. Both owners refused to show and breed. Instead of taking legal action — they had both signed breeding agreements — we decided to just breed Lilly and Ringo again.

The Second Litter — Same Pairing, Same Result

Same pairing, exact same litter: one fawn boy, and two girls — one fawn and one brindle. This time, Alex placed both girls with top show homes. Those girls became the beginning of the top show dogs.

I'll go through the generations, but here's the punchline: Biscuit — who lives with me today — is the top point-earning French Bulldog ever. Her cousin Winston was the first French Bulldog to win a national dog show. And this all started over twenty years ago with a phone call from a woman I'd never met, a dog named Ringo, and a little fawn girl that Luke almost said no to.

The Bloodline

What started with Lilly and Ringo became a family tree that spans generations. Here's how it all connects:

Lilly & Ringo — First Litter
The boy passed. Astro went to Chad & Palmer. Sasha went to a ballerina — both refused to breed.

Lilly & Ringo — Second Litter
Evie, Daphne: Alex placed both girls with top show homes, and the lineage took off.

The line from Lilly runs through multiple generations:

Lilly → Evie → Paris → Pearl → Fynn → Biscuit
(Pearl also produced Roman and Iceman)

Lilly → Evie → Paris → Arrow → Gisselle → Yoda

Lilly → Evie → Coco → Dita → Gypsy

Lilly → Daphne → Bruno
(Daphne also produced Vivian → Nae Nae)

Dita + Iceman = Klay who was tragically killed by drowning while in the care of Jamie and Jonathan Ward.

The Dogs That Lived With Me

Over the years, the dogs that lived with me were Lilly, Roman, Pearl, Fynn, Biscuit, Coco, and Dita. A full house.

Roman got in a fight with Carmen, so I had to place him with my friend Simeon Meyer. He lived fifteen years with Simeon — a great life.

When I decided to move from California to Austin, I had to place several dogs. Fynn went to Michael Berl and Nathan Winkel. Coco went to my friend Patrick Devin. Dita went to Jonathan and Jamie Ward. I took Lilly and Pearl with me to Austin.

Eventually, Lilly got too old to live in a high-rise, so I sent her to live with my sister Jena, her husband Simmie, and their two boys Myles and Ezra. She lived an amazing life to fourteen.

That's when Biscuit was retired as the top point-earning French Bulldog in history and came to live with Pearl and me in Austin. When I moved to Mexico in July 2024, both Pearl and Biscuit came with me.

Losing Pearl

Before leaving Austin, Pearl had gone to see her vet in April 2024 and was diagnosed with pneumonia. They treated her — and I told Alex, who said the treatment wasn't aggressive enough. We would learn that was very true.

After thirty days I took Pearl back for a checkup. She was still discharging and couldn't walk far. The vet said she had allergies. Charged me $300 for the visit plus allergy shots. I did that for the next four months.

The day before I was set to depart for Mexico, I had to get federal health certificates for both dogs — Pearl and her granddaughter Biscuit. The Austin vet cleared them both.

We landed in Guadalajara, and the receiving vet — using nothing more than a simple stethoscope — said Pearl had pneumonia. Had I not had a residency card, she would have been sent back to the United States.

I immediately took her to a local vet, who confirmed chronic pneumonia — over four months now, untreated by the Austin vet. They did their best, but her lungs were so damaged that she died of a heart attack.

Pearl was eight years old. Every other dog I've ever had lived well past fourteen. I was devastated — and furious at the lies, the false treatments, and the continued charges from Austin Urban Vet. I have a pending dispute with the vet and have filed a complaint with the Texas State Board. I'm awaiting the outcome.

Pearl deserved so much better.

More dogs to come...