His name is Lucky and my parents called me on Friday with the catchphrase "We got lucky on Friday the 13th!". He's an 18 month-old poodle mixed with something and is being rescued by my parents from a shelter. When I heard the news, I instantly was brought to tears. Not tears of happiness, but tears of honest sadness. I was heartbroken to hear that we/they were getting a new dog. I still have trouble every day when I think of Fangio, my first dog. It's been a little over half a year since he died, and I still cry every couple of weeks about him (Don't make fun of me, he was my little brother for almost eleven years and the embodiment of unconditional love).
Love,
Monica
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