I am so blessed to have grown up knowing the companionship of a dog. In our home, there was always a dog (or two) under foot. We’ve fostered dogs, took a free puppy that was being given away in front of the local department store, and brought home countless rescues, although back then they were “pound puppies.” No matter their name, they had a good home and were deeply, deeply loved. It could have been different though. When my father was very young, one afternoon he walked home from school. He saw a well-known neighborhood dog and went to pet it, only to have it bite his face. The dog bit right through his cheek and even took out a tooth. From that day on, my dad had two scars along his cheek. But he healed from the experience – both physically and mentally – because he never lost his love for those precious animals. Not even that traumatic attack kept him away from “man’s best friend.”