Postcards: On Margin Debt and Dog-Gifted Lotto Tickets

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Dear Fellow Expat:

A few months after our wedding, my wife and I moved to a shoebox apartment in the Chicago Loop.

We lived in a great building with a pool we barely used, a gym we never visited, and a “dog walk” that needed company.

By September 2015, we adopted a corgi-basset hound that we named Dagny.

She was a spaz as a rescue, ripping up floors and eating yoga mats when left alone.

After some work, she calmed down.

Soon, Dagny became the toast of the town.

When we bought our condo in North Center, we’d walk up and down the street at night. On the way back, under the Brown Line Addison, Dangy would glue herself to the door of a bar called “Cork Lounge.” She wouldn’t budge. She wanted to go in.

You see, they gave her Slim Jims every time she came in.

She always wanted her nightcap.

Dagny met every bar, went to offices in the Loop, and lived a grand Chicago life.

But it wasn’t until Florida - and a handful of short moves - that Dagny finally found her farm.

Our vet diagnosed “Dags” w…