When I was 12 years old, we had a family dog named Feathers. Part long-haired terrier and part dachshund, Feathers was all fun. Bright eyes and a bundle of soft fur, she was a furious little ball of life. Always game for any adventure, she went everywhere I went. Feathers was small, but she was the very definition of fearless and everyone who knew her loved her — none more so than me. We had a special bond and there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. And then one da...