As a kid, I never had a dog, or any pet for that matter. My mom was terrified of cats, and perhaps had OD’d on pets as a child, as my grandfather kept everything from dogs to monkeys to bears to sheep as housepets. I got a cat on graduating from college: Buffett is now sixteen years-old and looks likely to dance on my grave someday. But it was April who brought dogs into my world.
April and I married in October of 1999, right as we were moving to Charlotte in my first attempt to start a business. Her first birthday as my wife was a couple months later, and it was clear that she wanted a dog — not just any dog, but a Chesapeake Bay Retriever.
A quick note to explain a series of posts to follow:
I’ve threatened (and been encouraged by friends) over the years to write some sort of autobiographical tome that spins some of the stranger yarns from my youth in North Carolina and my career (to date) in the media biz. It’s not that I’m necessarily the most interesting fellow on the block, but I had a quirky cast of friends and relatives growing up. And three media startups/relaunches have provided plenty of fodder. I’ve always imagined it as a more-focused / less-briliant David Sedaris kinda thing.
So I’m going to start dribbling out a few posts on my blog to get a feel for the material I’ve got at hand. Feel free to ignore or write it off as cheap therapy for an egomaniac. But also feel free to comment and give me some feedback on the work product as it trudges along.
Meantime, one ground rule: For the time being, I’m going to follow a practice of changing names to protect the guilty. I’ll italicize any such names in the text.