One day while I was driving the camp van, I was approaching a railroad bridge.  When I came around the bend there was a kitten in the road and I had a quick decision to make, hit the kitten or swerve and hit the bridge embankment.  Unfortunately the kitten didn’t make it.  I stopped the van and one of the little owners of the kitten, maybe 5, was looking at the kitten crying out, “They killed Pickle”.  That phase has stuck to me to this day, I felt like crap, even though the adult owner told me there was nothing I could have done, didn’t help much and I was living in a Cabin In The Woods at the time.