Our Story
This Is Zhuang Zhuang
壮壮 — her name means "Strong" in Chinese
The little dog who taught me what it means to hold on.
— Aima, Founder
She Chose Me
I didn't plan on getting a dog that day. I was just out running errands when I noticed her—this scruffy little thing, trailing behind me. At first, I thought she was just wandering. But after a few blocks, I realized she wasn't going anywhere. She was following me.
I got to my car. Opened the door. She sat down and waited. Just stared at me with those big eyes like she'd made up her mind already. That was it. I couldn't leave her there.
That was almost ten years ago. Ten years of mornings where she'd follow me from room to room. Ten years of her curling up next to me, always touching, always close.
The Hard Years
Zhuang Zhuang went through hell. Serious medical challenges. Seizures. Surgery. The vet told me she might have six months left.
She lived for two more years.
Not because she was supposed to. Because she was stubborn. Because she wasn't ready to leave yet. That's who she was—tough as nails, wrapped in soft fur.
She never barked. Not once. Most of the time, she'd just lie there quietly like this, watching you with those bright, gentle eyes. Even when she was upset, she'd just walk away and lie in the corner. She didn't need words; her silence was her most soulful way of staying by my side.
A Real Personality
Zhuang Zhuang was a person in a poodle's body. When she first met my baby, she nudged her way in, fiercely jealous of the new arrival. But watching them grow up together was the most beautiful part of our story. The jealous little dog became the baby's most loyal companion, guiding her through the sun-dappled sidewalks we walked every day.
She wasn't just a witness to our lives; she was the warmth that held us all together.
Why I Started Making These
When Zhuang Zhuang passed, I didn't want to let go. I know that sounds impossible—you can't hold onto what's gone. But I needed something. Something I could touch. Something that felt like her.
So I picked up some basic tools and tried to carve her face into a piece of leather. I spent hours trying to get the details right. It wasn't perfect. But it was hers. And it was something I could carry.
My husband saw what I was doing and said, "Other people need this too." In that moment, my personal grief became a calling. But I also knew that to do justice to the memories of others, my early attempts simply weren't enough.
What I Learned About the Craft
It wasn't just about learning a skill. It was about finding a way to make memories last.
Getting Every Detail Right
After I carved that first portrait of Zhuang Zhuang, I knew it wasn't good enough. Her eyes were wrong. The texture was flat. So I started over. And over again.
I began where all leather artisans begin—with the classical art of leather carving. Flowers, scrollwork, the foundational patterns that teach your hands to feel where the blade should go. I practiced the same strokes hundreds of times, filling piece after piece with traditional designs before I ever attempted another portrait.
It was slow, humbling work. But it taught my hands what my heart already knew: getting this right would take everything I had.
Finding the Right Canvas
Once I had the foundations, I turned all of that discipline toward what truly mattered to me—pet portraits.
But capturing Zhuang Zhuang's gentle eyes was a completely different challenge. A flower forgives an imperfect stroke; an eye does not. I tested countless tools. From the sharpest carving knives to the finest brushes, my workbench was covered in trial and error. It took months to understand exactly which combination creates the depth and warmth I was chasing.
Then came the canvas. I tested dozens of leathers before finding the one—an authentic vegetable-tanned leather, carefully chosen for its grain and character.
The kind that ages like a memory, developing a warm patina over time. When you hold it, it feels alive.
Why I Never Rush
I don't use templates. Each portrait starts from a blank piece of leather, your photo, and your story.
I sketch, adjust, and carve, stroke by stroke, until I see their spirit emerge. Sometimes I redo an entire piece just because the eyes don't feel quite right.
Leather carving is slow, unforgiving work.
But what keeps me at the workbench isn't just a love for the art—it's the knowledge that behind every piece of leather is someone who, just like me, is looking for a way to hold onto a memory that matters.
How I Craft Your Memory
Every piece I carve is a deeply personal journey, starting with your favorite photo and your companion's story. I know exactly how much trust it takes to hand those memories over. Because this is so much more than a purchase, I want you to feel completely at ease before we begin.
On the next page, I'll walk you through exactly how I bring these portraits to life. You'll see every step of my workflow—from how to submit your photos, to my careful carving timelines, and how I safely deliver this small piece of art to your hands, wherever you are in the world.
Currently accepting the first 20 commissions. Click to view our step-by-step process, pricing, and worldwide shipping details.