Three Years

Yesterday marked three years since Lucky came into my home as a foster pup—a teenage GSD who didn’t know much about the world but had already beaten the odds. She was found at just three days old “in the river” in a small town in Ukraine by a mother and her daughter, then later lived through seven missile strikes, hearing the explosions from indoors while being rushed into the basement for safety. From there, she made her way to Prague—bus, train, car—landing in the middle of a busy city with me, with no clue what was going on, just that the world felt scary and unpredictable.

Since then, I’ve been trying to show her a world full of good things, where she’s safe and protected—while she’s shown me just how much dogs feel, how much more they pick up on than we do, and how much they communicate with us—if only we’d listen.

She’s taught me patience, compromise, teamwork, and that no matter how much I want something to happen, I can’t force it—especially when it involves another being, another mind.

As many of you know, our dogs teach us so much—especially the ones who challenge us. This girl has shaped me into someone I’m prouder of than the person I was before meeting her.

Happy three years, Lucky ❤️