Growing up with dogs in my family enriched our life in so many ways. My first dog I got for my eight birthday, he was a St. Bernard dog, named Joy, and to my dad’s credit—although he really knew everything about dogs, he was a vet—he bought Joy for me, while we lived in the 2 bedrooms apartment. Can you imagine this big long haired dog in this small home? It was a huge fun.  I went for a long walk every morning with him and spent my free time after school with him. He was a wonderful dog. He passed away very early before he reached his first birthday. Poor boy poisoned by a robber who wanted to get into the house. Joy started my love for dogs, and his death broke my heart for million pieces. Then I started to collect homeless dogs from street, took them home, and gave them a treatment with my dad's help. Once, I found a pregnant dachshund mix with broken leg, scabies, fleas, and she looked like a hairless dog, which is the most popular dog style nowadays. She was really sick, but my dad saved her life and her puppies arrived safely and I felt that was the most beautiful thing in my teenage. My dad and I found new families these street dogs and they were living a happy life. In that time, my mom did not like my new 'save the world's dogs' hobby, which is totally understandable, because my parents found a new sick dog at home every day when they came home from work. Me as a child I did not understand why they worried about it, but they were right. So, we moved to the new house when I was 12 and I got my second dog. He was a blue Great Dane, which was very rare colour in that time. We named him Samuel and he was my best friend in my teenage. We did everything together and he was the best mind reader. I never met with a more intelligent dog than him. He was incredible friend, guard, playmate, brother. When Sam was 2 years old, I adopted a 4 weeks old white boxer. Yes, he was just 4 weeks old. His colour was disqualified by the kennel club and his breeder did not want to keep him in the litter. So, I took him home and he became my mom's little baby. Mom's named him Dodo. He was my third dog, and he was the most healthy, funny and cutest dog. My dad loved the large breeds and I never got a small breed dog in my childhood.

After all, my husband and I decided to leave our origin country and we started a new life. Our very first dog was a boxer mix, we called her Spotty, and she lived with us nearly 11 years. She had a breast cancer and she had a surgery when she was 10 years old, but we could not save her life. During this period we made a decision we should be a Frenchie parents which was my dream from my childhood.  I had no idea how my life would change from this one decision. I had always thought breeding would be difficult with Frenchies due to my experience in my dad’s clinic, and all I had ever heard about French bulldog breeding was horror stories and figured it was too much for me emotionally. But my dream I could be a Frenchie breeder got me thinking to do it for my dad's memory. And the unconditional love, fun and way out from the daily routine that my very first Frenchie named Draco provided me is indescribable. So, I was very excited thinking that I may be able to give other people what Draco had given my family. We were keeping in touch with his breeder, she giving me breeding rights for him, and I found a pair for him. The truth is, it was not me who found my second Frenchie for Draco, and he was a third breeder. He also helped me through the first year of the breeding program. My second Frenchie had arrived and we kept her original name; Sunny. I have a good relationship with Sunny’s breeder as well and she always encouraged me to do it. My breeding programs started with these two fantastic dogs and with these two fantastic breeders. We are keeping a contact till today and talking hours about dogs. Looking back, they down-played a lot of the difficulties of breeding, but I suppose if they had shared all of them, it might have pushed me away.