Chelsea is my beloved Springer Spaniel. Sadly, she passed away on February 9, 2007 at the age of 13. She was a wonderful dog—perfectly sarcastic, infinitely bright and immeasurably loving.
When we lived in New York City, we’d spend hours in the park or parading up and down Broadway. It was on these strolls and through her doggy cuteness that I met the characters who defined our neighborhood—the people who would become the basis of much of my personal narrative. In that respect, I credit Chelsea—more so than my mother, who taught me the nuances of the English language, or than my father, whose work as a journalist has served as my reason to follow in his footsteps—for my inspiration to write.
Some people ask me if I’m going to change my URL to “mydogwaschelsea.com,” but the truth is that no matter what, Chelsea is, and will always be, my dog.