Our Story

It started with two world-traveling best friends — a basset named Louis and a Staffordshire named Victor.

Louis had opinions about everything and an unerring sense of style. Victor went missing for an entire month during a move from Oahu to California — lost on a full moon, found on the next one — thanks to a community of strangers who loved dogs enough to become friends.

For thirteen years they were inseparable. Victor departed shortly before their first human sister, Penelope, arrived. Louis shepherded her into the world alone — three more years of teaching her the ropes, showing her what it means to move through life with opinions, dignity, and a very good bow tie.

Louis was born in Oklahoma with strong opinions and nowhere in particular to be, yet somehow always knowing the quickest route for an escape. He was adamant about travel from the time he was born, always seeking new territory — even if it meant escaping under the fence and garnering a perpetual bald spot on his back from this particular exit strategy. He made his way to San Diego, then Hawaii — Kona first, then Honolulu — before his first international adventure in Sydney (he does not like rugby, and considers crying at movies on a 16-hour flight an amateur move). Back to San Diego (total Padres fan), then to a Manhattan apartment where he spent his days looking out the window at the Empire State Building and ordering way too much takeout, which he found appropriate considering the size of the kitchen, which he did not, in fact, find appropriate. He spent his last years in a 1700s farmhouse outside Philadelphia — desperately wanting to chase the foxes and deer, but far too dignified for such behavior.

He departed two weeks before his first human little brother arrived, Lewis Mack. Named after the same grandfather, Louis likes to say he “made room” for his little brother — because one family simply cannot handle two Louis’s.

He had opinions about what it means to live a good life. His grays and copious wrinkles confirmed his success in it — although the latter is built-in territory for a basset hound. For such short little legs, he had range. Five states. Two continents. Three islands. More beaches than most people ever see.

The Gingham Hound was born from a simple belief: the dog belongs at the table. We make modern Americana goods for people who take their hound as seriously as their dinner parties — wherever that life finds them.

Every piece belongs somewhere beautiful — a porch, a garden, a table set for the occasion. Worn with the quiet confidence of someone who already knows their dog is the best-dressed one in the room.

Gingham in the colors of a garden in full bloom. Toile de Jouy reimagined with garden and coastal iconography. A basset hound with a mint-and-pink striped bow tie, placed exactly where the polo pony goes on your favorite shirt.

The Gingham Hound is built in his honor. And Victor’s.

Life well lived, wherever that finds you.

— The Gingham Hound