David Stitt was known as an animal lover who didn't have a mean bone in his body.

Stitt, 38, turned his love of animals into a part-time job at Mini-Critters in Sioux Falls, and eventually, his own dog walking service this past summer.

"He adored everyone's dog," said Ginger Butterworth, an employee at Mini-Critters. "The dogs knew him, and he knew the dogs."

Stitt worked for the business for several years, spending time with animals that were being boarded at the business so they received daily interaction.

"He was a very kind, generous person," she said. "He was always upbeat."

Stitt died Wednesday, almost two weeks after he was hit by a car while crossing the street against the light at 57th Street and S. Western Avenue on Nov. 8. Mary Ash, 33, was driving eastbound on 57th Street and collided with Stitt.

Police determined that speed and mechanical condition of the vehicle as well as alcohol were not factors. Ash, who police say was driving 40 mph at the time of the crash, was not cited or charged.

"Based on the dark clothing he was wearing and that he was running across the street – all those factors just culminated in the collision," said Lt. Jerome Miller with the Sioux Falls Police Department.

Stitt overcame obstacles early on in his life.

Bob Ruedebusch, senior pastor at First United Methodist church where Stitt attended, said when he and the associate pastor came to the church about a year ago, David introduced himself by giving them a copy of an article in an online Christian news publication, which detailed his life.

When he was 7, Stitt fell 15 feet from a tree he had climbed and landed on his head, according to the article by Living Stones News, published in May 2007. He had a tube trachea put in his throat so he could breathe, and had to re-learn how to walk and talk.

"He was very outgoing, trying to let us know who he was, but also helping us to see some of the struggles he had to work through," he said.

Stitt was active in the church choir with his parents.

"He loved our church, he loved the church choir and the people in it, and if you were missing from church choir, he'd call up and say, 'Are you alright? You weren't at church choir last night,'" said Jodi Stitt, David's mother. "He kind of kept track of people that way... he was a special young man."