This is an old joke, but once in a while I'm reminded of it.

A man wrote home asking his brother for news of the family. His brother responded "the dog got sick and died, and we're all sad."

The man chided his brother: "you should never just blurt it out like that, break it gently. Send a letter saying 'the dog is up on the roof and we can't get him to come down' so when you tell us he died, we're aren't so shocked. And by the way how is grandma doing?"

The next week a letter came from the brother: "Grandma's on the roof."

From a litter of five white-colored foxes, this one remains. He's getting darker every day, and we wonder if, once he's grown, we'll be able to tell him from other foxes.