My first cat was a gray and white tabby named Mischief—Missy for short—who I got through chicanery and begging. One day, in first grade, a cat sort of followed me home. I say sort of because after it followed me a few houses, I dragged it the rest of the way, presented it to my mom and said "Can we keep it?" Of course, the cat eventually made its way back toward its rightful home (I hope) and I cried. "Keep crying," my devious older sister told me. "And you'll get your own cat." We already...