Welcome to 3 Dog Coffee Co., a venture born from the
profound love and inspiration of my three incredible sons:
Cullen, Marley, and Jameson. This website and coffee line
are dedicated to their memory and the unconditional joy
they brought into my life. 3 Dog Coffee Co. is a small
batch artisan craft coffee roaster based in Southern
Ontario.
My inspiration for 3 Dog Coffee begins with my beloved
canine companions: Cullen (Min Pin), Marley (Puggle), and
Jameson (Cockapoo). Many years ago, during a difficult
time in my life, Cullen unexpectedly came into my world. A
friend of my sister found him lost in traffic and brought
him to her, and when she asked if I wanted him, I
accepted. Cullen was one of the best things that ever
happened to me. He seemed to recognize my distress and
sadness, sitting on my lap and just staring at me as if I
were something huge and admirable. In the quiet of the
early hours, as I'd sip my morning brew, he would make
himself comfortable right on my lap. It was a peaceful
ritual, a gentle start to the day that was all our own.
From then on, we were inseparable.
I promised Cullen that no one would ever hurt him or
make him do something he didn't want to do. He assumed a
role like no other, incredibly attentive to everything
concerning me, seemingly ignoring everything else around
him. It was as if he always had something to say. I would
talk to him, and he was an awesome listener. He wouldn't
respond to any other dog or person; it appeared I was the
only thing in his bubble. This continued for 12 years
until I went on a business trip without him. I returned
after three weeks, and he seemed to have fallen ill due to
my absence. A week later, he passed away. That tore me to
pieces; I had just lost my best friend. Cullen was a
different type of dog compared to others in my life. This
little man had such a profound impact on me. I was proud
to have Cullen in my life and to be his guardian and
caregiver. From that day forward, I vowed never to leave
the next baby who came into my life behind. I made a rule
that I followed: if my baby isn't invited, I don't go.
I was broken once again, struggling to function for a
year after Cullen's passing. As the fall season approached
and the weather grew colder, I loved the autumn foliage
and enjoyed a nice hot cup of coffee, but something was
still missing: Cullen. October came, and near the end of
the month, on October 18th, 2014, another baby came into
my life: Marley. Marley was rescued from a home where he
had been since he was a puppy. These people later acquired
two much larger dogs who would constantly beat up on
little Marley. He was always kept on a long chain and
forced to sleep in a crate, even while still chained
inside, while the other two dogs roamed freely. When
Marley was rescued and brought to me, his story broke my
heart, especially after having Cullen in my life. I could
only imagine what he endured during those two long years.
When Marley arrived, he was so skinny and throwing up.
He was terrified. I put him on the floor, and he
immediately ran under my TV stand to hide. No matter what
I said, he wouldn't come out. I decided to lie on my
stomach, putting my head on the floor at Marley's level so
I could see him under the TV center. I talked to him and
that day, I promised Marley that no one would ever hurt
him again, and he would never be forced to sleep in a cage
again. I invited Marley onto my bed to sleep with me, and
he stayed close. Within three days, Marley broke out of
all the habits he arrived with. He assumed his role so
quickly. I told him, "If you are not invited, then I don't
go. I will never leave you behind, and I will always be
the first one you see when you wake up and the last one
you see before you close your eyes for bed for the night."
Marley went everywhere with me—to all my doctor's
appointments, grocery shopping; there was no place I went
that Marley didn't. He saw everything I did and smelled
everything I did. Whenever I picked something up, Marley
had to inspect it, making sure it wasn't foul. This went
on for years, and it occurred to me that Marley was the
one making all the decisions. I loved it. Marley and I
were connected in a way no one would ever understand.
Marley even continued a tradition that Cullen started:
every morning, he would take his place on my lap as I
enjoyed my coffee.
One evening, I was talking to Marley while he sat on my
lap. As I spoke, I said, "Marley, I really wish you could
hear me and understand what I'm saying." And I heard a
response. I looked around, thinking someone else was in my
home. I sat Marley on the couch, got up to look around,
and there was no one there. I checked for any audio
sources left on, and there was nothing. So, I sat back
down and proceeded to talk to him again. Once again, I
heard a young voice keep responding to everything I said.
I honestly thought my home was bugged. I sat there and
continued to talk to him, looking at him, and said,
"Marley, wouldn't that be funny if you *were* able to hear
me and respond back?" His big brown eyes opened wide, and
I heard the response, "I can hear you!" Chills like no
other went through my body, as if I had just seen a ghost.
But it wasn't a ghost; it was Marley talking to me.
I seriously thought I had gone mad and should seek help
because I was hearing voices. So I sought out help, and I
just knew the psychiatrists thought I was loony tunes. I
walked out of the appointment that day with a prescription
for schizophrenia. I didn't want to believe I had lost it.
I got home that night and never took the medication. Years
passed, and Marley was still talking to me. I could hear
him as if a live person was talking directly to me. Marley
communicated through my thoughts and the blinking of his
eyes at me. A slow blink meant "Yes," and a quick blink
meant "No."
One day at the market, a gypsy-looking woman walked up
to me and asked if she could pet Marley. Marley looked up
at me as if seeking approval. I said it was okay, and he
turned back to the woman. As she proceeded to talk to
Marley, she looked at me as if *she* had just seen a
ghost. She was pale white, and in an overwhelming
response, she exclaimed, "Did you know your dog can talk?"
I playfully responded that I did know Marley could talk,
while at the same time thinking to myself, "I'm not the
one who's lost my marbles. It's the woman who's loony
tunes." As soon as she said that, chills ran through my
body, and I knew right then I was not off my rocker. She
then exclaimed, "DO NOT LET THIS ONE GO!" From then on,
Marley and I could not be separated. Ever.
As the years went on, Marley lost his mobility, but I
was determined not to leave him behind. So, I bought a dog
stroller for him, ensuring he wasn't left behind. I pushed
Marley everywhere: in the cold, the snow, and the spring.
I was determined not to leave Marley behind. I wore that
stroller down until it fell apart. I had to get a new one,
but I searched and searched and just couldn't find one I
could afford. As a person on disability, they were simply
too expensive. I still refused to leave Marley behind. I
then saw a collapsible wagon online and bought it. Marley
was once again able to go everywhere with me. Anyone who
knows me and met Marley would testify to my dedication to
him and knew Marley's demeanor.
Years more have passed, and Marley started slowing down.
So I started staying indoors while Marley slept next to me
while I browsed the internet. Marley's voice faded into
just the blinks, then the blinks faded away into nothing.
Marley started to have a weak bladder and I found him
peeing and pooing in our bed and everywhere he went in the
wagon. I knew that this was not good. Marley then started
to slowly decline. For years I always told Marley when we
were in the bed going to sleep, "Marley! If you get cold
you come up to me and I will keep you warm. And if you get
hot you let me know, I will open the window or I will turn
the fan on." Whatever it took, I made sure Marley's
comfort superseded my own. Marley and I even did prayers
every night before bed. One night, I decided to put my
face on his head and I started to cry during our nightly
prayers as I told him just how much he means to me and
that I love him so, so very much and will never let him
go. That night, I kissed him on the head and told him I
love him. I always tell him I will see him in the morning,
but that night I forgot to say that to him. The following
morning, I woke up to discover Marley had passed on. When
Marley fell asleep that night he was facing the foot of
our queen size bed, and when I discovered him, he was
within inches of my head. I was led to believe he was on
his way to me and just didn't make it. Marley was gone. I
am currently in tears as I write this story. Once again I
was torn up. I just lost another best friend. Marley was
with me for 12 years and was already 2 years old when he
arrived to me. Marley lived 14 years in all, and I cried
and still cry over Marley. I ask myself, "Did I really
give Marley the life he deserved?" I gave him what I knew
I could. After Marley's passing, I could still hear his
voice. I asked Marley, "Please send another baby to me and
I will love him the way I loved you and took care of you."
Days later, I was sitting outside about 5am drinking my
coffee and an older black squirrel shows up while I am
drinking my coffee in the peace and quiet and just stares
me down. I heard the name "Sheila." I looked at the
squirrel and said, "Sheila," and she stood up on her hind
legs. She shows up every morning and stares at me and I
asked Marley, "Is this the baby?" He said, "For now." And
I was like, "OK!" One month to the day, another dog shows
up. My sister rescued a 3-month-old that was bought by
someone from a breeder who was told she couldn't keep her.
The woman asked my sister, who had originally set out to
view camping trailers that day, and she returned with a
Cockapoo. I wasn't sure when he came that I was really
ready to do this again since Marley's passing. Marley says
it was this Cockapoo he picked for me and his name shall
be "James." I was like, "Come on, Marley, you have a toy
monkey named James." So I sat there saying, "James, Jimmy,
Jamie, Jameson," and Marley said, "Yes. Jameson." So this
little boy that came to me was named Jameson. Jameson it
is. Jameson, when he arrived, I told him in his ear the
same I said to Marley 12 years prior. Jameson assumed a
role the same as Cullen, the same as Marley. I kept
putting myself down, thinking and saying that I could
never love a dog the same as I did Marley. I kept thinking
that Marley just got replaced by Jameson. And Marley
assured me not to cry and that, "Yes, you can love another
baby the same as you loved him." So I started taking
Jameson out at 5am while I have my coffee in the peaceful
time of the morning as Sheila keeps showing up. Now, every
morning I sit with Jameson on my lap outside. We enjoy the
peaceful quiet, listening to the birds chirp and watching
the squirrels dart around the yard while listening to some
jazz music and enjoying my first cup of coffee. I told
Marley that I really want to do something in his name,
Cullen's name, and likeness. So the year previous, I
started roasting my own coffee and launched Proud Mary's
Coffee. The website was doing really good on social media,
selling coffee until Marley started to slow down, so I
diverted my attention 100% to Marley. My sales slowed,
then came to a stop. I figured it was done with and it was
just a fad. He assured me it was not a failure. So the
name 3 Dog Coffee Co. was born, and my new odyssey begins.
I have dedicated my life to two babies and now a third,
and I want 3 Dog Coffee Co. to be dedicated to my best
friends Cullen & Marley. I also want a portion of the
proceeds to go towards the rescue of these amazing babies
and to help underprivileged people pay for their vet bills
and food for these babies that have been rescued from
abuse. 3 Dog Coffee Co. is dedicated to just that. I would
like to someday buy a sanctuary for these pups to be free
from abuse. This is our humble beginning. Join me on my
odyssey, where every sip is a tail-wagging good time. I
have yet, as of this writing, to hear Jameson talk. He's
still a baby, I suppose.
