On Becoming a Cat Person

I wanted a dog, badly, when I was growing up, but my father was reluctant. I know now that he had good reason not to take on the additional responsibility, but at the time, I thought he was being cruel, and I persisted. He finally relented and brought home a sweet little black half-grown puppy from a shelter; I named him, with stunning originality, Blackie. Within days, Blackie dashed into the street and was run over by a car. I was crushed, and even though I still begged for a new puppy, par...