CHOCOLATE PEANUT was a nickname for my chocolate labrador, Zoey. She was my inspiration for this site back in 2000 when I first registered the domain. I wasn’t sure what the site would be, but I knew it would always honor her memory.

After graduating from college in 1989, I moved to Washington, DC to start a new journey. In the spring of 1990, I brought my 8-week old handful of chocolate from North Carolina (my home state) to DC where we would navigate big city life together. I used to take her everywhere—the farmers market on Capitol Hill, outdoor cafés, dog parks, and a few dog-friendly stores. She loved dragging me everywhere, but it was jogging side-by-side in sync together, around our favorite routes in Georgetown, the Potomac river, the monuments, or Connecticut Avenue.

Ever wonder what the “90” means on the label of the “My Favorite Sweater?” Zoey was born in 1990.

We moved to San Diego, CA in 1996 where she basked in the sun all day and would run along the beach with sheer joy. Although she seemed like a puppy her whole life, her health was precarious as she grew older. I did everything possible to keep my Peanut with me just one more day, and I’m convinced that I did. I dodged lumps and bumps that weren’t always benign, seizures of the worst kind although I kept them in check with medication. Whatever medical emergency there was, she and I conquered them all, but I just couldn’t win the battle against a failing heart. In 2002, we moved to northeast Connecticut, in a rural town where she could run around in a huge backyard in her own goofy way. One week before Thanksgiving, she collapsed in the backyard, I ran to her, rushed her to the vet, and she was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. The seizures returned, breathing was difficult, and she was in her bed most of the time. She was miserable and didn’t understand. I begged her to let go, but she wanted to live and breathe and love as always. She died in my arms the day before Thanksgiving 2002. She was 12 years young. A beautiful birch tree was planted in the front yard on the day she passed.

My father’s words comforted me in that I was chosen to be with her—a gift. She was always being photographed, and after one release of the shutter, she would walk off of the set dragging props, cords, and lights with her. She appears on the cover of a photo-documentary on animal-assisted therapy that I published in 2000. She was truly a testament of the therapeutic value a dog can give. Her exuberence for life amazed me, and now I’m blessed with the spirit of her memory. She wore a knitted cap and tube scarf like no one else, and that inspired me to eventually create apparel for pets and their people.

This site is dedicated to her.