A Frenchie in New York

That's what I am- a manhattan chien-a bouledogue francais living in Noo Yawk. I'm a black masked red fawn french Bulldog- check out the resources page to find out all about my breed, then scroll down to see how I got to the big apple.

Being French and a New Yorker is a perfect storm of self obsession, as you can see, but on top of this I'm opinionated and coincidentally-its a species thing- extremely observant. The things I see and hear strolling the boulevards and avenues of Manhattan or languishing on my daybed analysing the habits of my dear pack leader (PL)- a curious artsy fellow, are quite frankly, tres amusing .

I am PL's beloved companion and therefore treated like family. Much time is spent on his part researching the best ways to raise and nurture his sole dependent. If you're interested in raw diets and holistic practices and understanding canine behaviour then PL has lots of info for you here.

Blessed with good looks and that old je ne se quoi, my duties as companion are augmented by my role as muse. I take both seriously. Its not just about looking adorable I have to be amusing, patient, interesting, intriguing and most importantly inspiring. I am of course well rewarded for my efforts but beyond the treats and the toys I enjoy a sense of purpose to my existence, and there is of course all this lovely artwork to look at.

Enjoy.

My Name is Etienne

....but everyone calls me Eti









...............ideas, thoughts, good wishes?

.............. email me at gmail

Prequel

My real name is Baloven Sudby. It means 'fortune's favorite'-the lucky one. In May 2004 my Dad after a year of researching french bulldogs and searching to adopt one, fell in love with a red fawn french bulldog from a kennel in Minnesota- but that wasn't me. That was Redman. He was 6 months old he had been kept by the breeder to show but had got too long which was why he was for sale. Unfortunately, the breeder, because Redman had lived with many other frenchies until then, decided to let him go, understandably, to a home that had another Frenchie.

Luckily for me my Dad resumed his search and shortly after found my picture online. He couldn't quite believe it, Redman had been the only black masked red fawn that he had come across, in his year of looking, and here I was a smaller, younger version of him.

He was reluctant to pursue the matter as, you may have guessed from my name, I was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. Many a cautionary story about Russian imports had surfaced in his research. He couldn't however resist asking some questions about me and quite extraordinarily it turns out, my real father is not only an American but in fact bears the name of the Minnesota kennel that Redman was from. Further investigation revealed I had an excellent pedigree, the breeder of my sire being the vice president of the Russian French Bulldog Club. He checked references, asked for copies of documents, and when everything had been sorted I boarded KLM flight 641.

My first glimpse of Manhattan was from a yellow cab just as it was for my dad 15 years ago when he, also from Europe came to start his new his life in this city that we have both grown to love. I was the only one of my litter to come to America. Except for my brother Barin, now a Junior Champion, who went to a Czech Kennel, all the others remained on home soil. My dad continues to remain in contact with my breeder and her excellent website charts the progress of of all my siblings who are active and doing well in the show ring.

I have now past the 2 year mark, and I know that the old man is feeling relieved, lucky even, that I have turned out healthy and problem free. The woman we met in Central Park who burst into tears because her Russian import didn't survive his third week with her, is now a distant memory, her implied prophecy never coming to pass. I also know that, because Pops works from home, and I get to sit right next to him most days, on his work chair with my head resting on his lap, I truly am, as my original name predicted... the Lucky one.