They say my eyes are my best feature. They are large and brown and outlined in black. I’ve heard some say they are ‘wise-looking.’ I also have long eyelashes and even a scruffy-looking beard, which Granny says is always in need of a shave.

So as you can see, I wasn’t adopted for my classic good looks or my genetic background. My streak of good luck runs much deeper than that.

In fact, I’ll always remember the day I got lucky. It was a cold winter night in Mexico City (that means about 40 degrees Farenheit) but it seemed much colder to me, as I hadn’t had a thing to eat in several days. My chest hurt and I could barely breathe. I didn’t know I had pneumonia. All I knew was that I was hungry and miserable, and about at the end of my ‘doggie life.’ And remember, we dogs don’t have nine lives like cats do, so my luck had definitely run out.

Or so I thought.

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