This story is a little long — but it has to be. To understand 3 Dogs Woodworking, you have to understand how I got here.
From the time I was a teenager, I’ve always needed something to keep my brain engaged. In high school, that came in the form of shop classes — woodworking, metalworking, welding, drafting — all of it. I loved learning how things were made. One woodworking project in particular stuck with me: our class built bookshelves for a local elementary school. We made around twenty of them.
Meet the Board of Directors
Want to meet the players behind this story? They’re the reason the shop has a name — and the heart behind everything I make.
Most of the other kids didn’t take it seriously. I did. That’s where I learned that woodworking isn’t about shortcuts — it’s about process, patience, and doing things right, no matter how long it takes.
Later, that same need to create shifted to computers. I taught myself BASIC and even wrote a crude (but functional) “teacher’s pet” program that averaged grades and saved lesson plans. After high school, I became a typesetter, which quickly turned into graphic design, and eventually pre-press work. Around the same time, I was also an on-call firefighter, a single dad, and later an EMT. Eventually, I took a full-time EMT job with Ross Ambulance.
Emergency medicine kept my mind busy — but during my downtime, I still needed something creative. When I moved into a rented house with my girlfriend, I finally had space to set up a small shop. I built a workbench, collected some basic tools, and started building again. A dresser here, a side-by-side trash and recycling bin for a cousin there. She paid me for it — and that lit the spark.
I didn’t want to build big furniture pieces. I wanted smaller, more refined projects. That’s when I made my first cutting boards.
Then life shifted. A relationship ended. I moved out west to live with my son and sold most of my tools, keeping only a few. Eventually, I moved back to New Hampshire and slowly rebuilt — replacing tools, buying my own house with a garage, and starting over. I began making cutting boards again — bigger, better, more refined. I wanted to engrave them, so I bought an xTool M1 laser. At the time, it was cutting-edge. Now? Technology moves fast — but the craftsmanship still matters.
The Dogs
You can’t tell this story without talking about the dogs.
My ex really wanted a dog. Enter Lokki — a ten-week-old Australian Shepherd fluff ball. He was supposed to be her dog. Instead, he imprinted on me.
One night during the puppy phase, I took him outside. Something made a noise in the woods across the road and he froze on the porch steps. I looked at him and said, “It’s okay. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” I know he didn’t understand the words — but he looked up at me and walked right off the porch like he did.
Lokki has always been timid. We tried socializing him, but crowds overwhelmed him. One trip to Home Depot ended with him cringing in the cart as people rushed over. That was the end of public outings. When we realized he was barking and howling while we were gone, we knew he needed a companion.
That’s when Yogi entered our lives — a stray from Birmingham, Alabama, found eating out of dumpsters. Named Yogi because he looked like a bear. That was mid-2015. Later, after moving to Haverhill, my ex wanted a small dog. Through the same rescue, we found Fritz — a Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix.
Eventually, my ex and I separated. She took all three dogs. This is when I moved out west — and was miserable without them. Seven months later, I moved back, and not long after, bought my house in 2018. Over time, the relationship ended for good. We split the dogs: she kept Yogi and the cat; I kept Lokki and Fritz.
Lokki and Fritz struggled without Yogi, so I searched for another rescue. I wanted an older dog — ideally a German Shepherd — but rescues wouldn’t place one with small dogs in the house. I went back to the same rescue again. The director suggested Jaycee, now Stevie.
Stevie is a Catahoula/Aussie mix with the double-merle gene. She has vision issues and is mostly deaf. I was scared — honestly — but I took the leap. Renaming her Stevie (after Stevie Nicks, because Hillary and I love Fleetwood Mac) was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. She is the most loving dog I’ve ever known — with the softest, silkiest fur you could imagine.
And then there’s Fritz — The Sarge. He patrols the house. If something needs barking at, only he is allowed to bark. He guards groceries. He enforces order. But behind that tough exterior is the biggest heart imaginable. He’s grieved cats, panicked when carriers came out, and once dragged me toward a crying stray kitten because he couldn’t stand that it needed help.
Finding the Identity
In 2019, I started working for Stewart’s Ambulance in Moultonborough. I brought cutting boards into work for customers, and suddenly more requests came in — because people could see the quality.
When my daughter moved out, I needed dog sitters due to my 72-hour shifts. That’s when Bob came into our lives. He didn’t just watch the dogs — he helped tame Lokki’s anxiety almost immediately. Bob saw my work and ordered boards for his wife and daughters over the years. I wanted to reward him, so I offered to make him a cribbage board. He declined — but suggested one for his future son-in-law.
That single board started something big.
Cribbage boards turned into Flightdeck™©, Winedeck™©, and more. A joking request for a cigar box became a fully functional humidor. The things I never expected to build again — or at all — became my best sellers.
I had invested in a Cricut, heat presses, sublimation printing, and laser engraving. My creativity was thriving — but I still didn’t have a name. I tried tying something to “603.” It didn’t feel right.
Then it clicked.
3 Dogs Woodworking.
Because they were my biggest fans. They waited for me to come in from the garage covered in sawdust. And I’m theirs. Dogs are honest. Loyal. And they make damn good logos.
That’s where 3 Dogs Woodworking comes from.
Not a company. Not a factory. Just a garage shop, a creative outlet, and a maker who cares deeply about doing things the right way.
Every piece that leaves my shop is built with care, patience, and heart — just like the journey that led me here.