A friend called to tell me about a dog she and her daughter had found, running around in busy traffic, with a hurt leg. They took her to the local shelter, but they wanted to try to find a home for her. The shelter was going to put her down because of her leg injury (they suspected a torn ACL) and also because she was at least part pit bull. This friend knew that I had a soft spot for pit bulls, which I do, but I told her that I just didn't have room for another dog. Still, the story nagged at me over the weekend, and Monday morning my husband said, "we have to go get that dog." So I called the shelter, but they told me the decision had been made to put her down. I told them NOT TO DO THAT because I was coming to get her. When we got there, she was so stressed out she growled at my husband, but when we got her out of the cage, she was overjoyed. She licked her new dad all the way home to show him she didn't really mean the growling. Her leg healed beautifully without surgery, and she has turned out to be the sweetest dog imaginable. We are so glad that we overlooked the two strikes against her that almost ended her life! We named her Felicia, "the lucky one." But we were really the lucky ones.