Someone asked me if I could do any other profession except write, what it would be. I would have become a veterinarian. I’ve always loved animals. I think I got that from my parents. Both were avid animal lovers and I can remember one time when my dad brought home an injured pregnant bunny rabbit. The poor thing was used to humans, so it was probably someone’s pet that either got lost or was dumped. My father was over six feet tall. He was big and strong and always made life an adventure. I only saw him cry once and that was when lightning struck our Great Dane. The last photo taken of my mom shows her with a small dog in her arms. I can remember the names of all the pets that were in my life as I was growing up. Ladybug—a terrier, Lucky Max—a mixed breed I rescued from a trash dump, Brutus—a Great Dane, Moochie—a Pekingese, Ski—a Poodle, Hobo—a German Shepherd, and Chick—a Great Dane. With all the sweet pets we had and all the unconditional love pets give back, I cannot understand how anyone could harm an animal. I saw an article recently by Robert…