GILBERT

I was considering island ownership way before it was cool. My vision was a utopian chihuahua dog society with rodents brought in for our amusement. I had procured both a live nutria supplier and fresh shipments of milk when my image was tainted due to sniffing the wrong dog. 

By 1917, my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, Danny-Boi, had firmly established himself in the dog denim segment. He was known for utilitarian designs with heavy riveting. These were work clothes first, but looking back at his old designs, there was a stylistic approach I began to appreciate. I brought back many of his old drawings and added my own touches. Being a fan of old-fashioned collars and hating getting bitten on the back, I constructed my first piece as a combination collar and back cover. It had plenty of space near the wiener while allowing for full-on wagging when the moment arose. The neck was taught but comfortable, and it just felt right. These retailed for $70 but did not sell well. 

In 2011 I was approached by a C.B. magazine for an article on behavior and its relationship to treats. I was required to stand still in a shower for some unknown reason. I will say the treats I received after my interview were exceptional and may have included some chicken bones.

This was the pose I used early in my career and it was one of strength and mental toughness. After the famous "German Shepard incident" I realized I had become an ever-wagger. This disorder is characterized by wagging even when there are no treats nor anything exceptional around. I then traveled the world to teach my techniques in the Way of the Wag.

There was a time when I thought this nail would get me into the circus. I found out the hard way that one long toenail isn't enough to draw a crowd.

I was passed over for a role in a wonderful made-for-TV special about a dog. It became one of my most difficult failures. I had learned over three tricks and slimmed down to a lean 11 pounds, but this was the first time I understood how chihuahuas were treated in Doggywood. Your eyes aren't straight enough, your ears are too big, you smell like salsa, and your coat is too stiff. The final straw was the infection I got from that stray back by the dumpster.