I’m not sure I believe that today, 8/8/8 is so lucky. Less than five minutes into our run this morning, my dog got mauled by some unseen animal, requiring stitches. His face has three deep clawmarks on either side from the eye to the snout. His ear was torn almost in two. His belly and his leg were slashed and bleeding.

He was off the leash for 4 houses. What is that, an eighth of a mile? In that time, my puppy ran out behind a neighbor’s house and came back ripped to shreds. Apparently I live on Elm Street.

I’m told it wasn’t a cat that did that kind of damage. Or another dog. It’s unlikely that he was attacked by a lion or a bear (because he’s still alive). We’re probably looking at a raccoon. Or a badger. Or some other profoundly uncool, garbage-grubbing creature of the night that decided to come out at 6:15 this morning.

The vet says my mutt’s lucky because his eyes were spared.

In my opinion, lady luck was too busy attending Chinese weddings to glance out west this morning.