âI used heroin for ten years. Â It wasnât a very good life, as youâd expect. Â I had my son taken from me. I lost my job at the Fiat factory. Â I spent all my time trying to find money, find dealers, and stay away from police. Â I hated myself. Â I couldnât face anyone. Â Then one day my friendâs dog had puppies. Â Iâd never had a dog before, but I always liked animals, so I told him to give me the smallest and ugliest one he had. Â The one nobody else wanted. Â And thatâs how I got Joe. Â Joe was the angel of my life. Â We understood each other. Â There was no need for words. Â He followed me around all the time. Â He slept next to me on the street. Â The moment I opened my eyes in the morning he would lick my face. Â He gave me self-esteem. Â I was a complete loser but at least I could take care of Joe. Â I could bring him to the park. Â I could bring him to the vet. Â I could raise enough money to get his medication. Â Heâs the reason I was finally able to quit heroin. Â Because if something happened to me, what would happen to him? Â So I got clean. Â It was hard but I got clean. Â Joe lived for another thirteen years. Â He got a tumor in 2012 and held on a few more months. Â I barely survived it. Â I was able to stay off drugs, but I promised myself that Iâd never get another dog. Â Itâs just too painful. Â But two years ago I found Leica beneath a mobile home. Â She was all skin and bones. Â Sheâd been abandoned. Â I didnât have a choice. Â For the first few months I called her Joe. Â But I had to stop. Â Because Joeâs gone. Â And the name doesnât really matter, anyway. Â It just matters that I love her.â (Rome, Italy)














