About Chelsea

This is the Biography of:

Chelsea Of Cottonwood

You may be wondering what the whole story about Chelsea is or maybe just what this site is all about.

Well, to start off, the only reason that this website is even here in the first place is because of my most amazing Golden Retriever named Chelsea.

My birthday is July 28th, 1993 and my sister’s is September 22nd, 1991. Perhaps even more special is Chelsea’s birthday. Chelsea’s birthday wasn’t just a day like most peoples’, hers was a national holiday. November 27th, 1996. It was the third Thursday in November. If you’re not American, then you may not understand, The third Thursday in November is always the day when America celebrates Thanksgiving – the friendship of the Pilgrims and the Indians first coming together. Needless to say, this is an important day in history for America. But you know, I think that to me, it’s more important because this is my little puppy’s birthday. My Chelsea-girl, or “My Fuzzy” as I like to call her, was born along with about a dozen other siblings.

I’m not completely sure since I was only 3 years old, but I believe that about a month later, we went to this breeder’s house. From what I remember, she was a type of backyard breeder and kept all of the puppies right there I her kitchen. However, this woman wasn’t a mutt owner. She owned two pure bred Golden Retrievers – and could prove it. So when I say Chelsea is a Golden, I mean she’s a Golden, not a mix.

Before we even met her, my parents had been looking for a little while to find a dog. My dad had grown up with always having a dog right there next to him and still is very sad about a certain few. For example, I think his favorite was Pepper and Cocoa. Unfortunately, a long time ago like right after they had been married a while (I think), Pepper was hit by a car and died. I’m pretty sure that this is the reason for my dad getting very mad whenever Chelsea is off of her leash. Pepper now rests in a one dog private cemetery – the side yard of our house 😉 . I think that’s a good place.

My mom on the other hand had always wanted a dog. She never did have any when she was a kid and my mom says that her and her brother would take turns being the dog and play games. Or maybe try to bring to bring in other wild animals.

Around the time my parents were looking for a dog, a co-worker (they both worked on the city’s fire department) needed to give his dog away even though he really didn’t want to. I think that we had their Golden Retriever named Chelsea about one night. That one night must have been the hardest ever. If I’m correct, the next day, he asked for his dog back since none of the family could bear to be away from it. And of course, being the people we are, gave her back.

Skip ahead a little bit in the story and we arrive at the breeder’s house and meet all of the little puppies and the proud parents. There were only three puppies left:2 girls and 1 boy. 2 Of us had wanted a girl and the other 2 of us had wanted the boy; all the others had been tagged as sold (and separated?).

Two weeks later they were 6 weeks old and ready to go to their new homes and we left with one little puppy in a slightly larger box. This box immediately found its way next to my parent’s bed and the puppy inside was just fine with that.

To this day, there is a dog bed there. Chelsea doesn’t really sleep there much though. Her favorite spots are: in the hallway to the garage, next to the fish tank with her head in the bay window, sleeping in a small space between the toilet and wall in our upstairs bathroom, and when it’s storming, under my sister’s desk until she’s made leave (so she doesn’t strangle herself with cords) and moves into the bathtub until morning.

Now that my little Fuzzy is older now, she rarely gets up for anything, at least not voluntarily when she wants to sleep. Honestly, she only gets up when she hears somebody open the refrigerator or hears the sound of the microwave beeping. Even more honestly, Chelsea eats more human food that she does dog food. But in my opinion, that’s not such a bad thing. Except for arthritis (which was expected early on) and epilepsy that she’s had since she was less than a year old, there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. And it’s funny, she used to be so wild and super duper crazy as a puppy and now as eleven and a half, she’s still really wild and super duper crazy!


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