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When I was in my early teens, my mother and I began raising and showing Persian cats. It was something my mom had always wanted to do, and for the most part, that time is one of my most cherished memories. Having been a "cat person" since before my first recollection, I truly enjoyed it, and it gave my mom and me a chance to do something together that we both loved. There was one sad part, however; one of our mother cats died giving birth to her first litter. She had four kittens, but only two survived, and we were suddenly faced with the prospect of raising two newborn kittens. I was twelve years old, and I vividly remember taking turns with Mom for the midnight feedings and general care of the kittens, which entailed two-hour shifts around the clock. I still recall my wonder at their strength and will to live, even though they were so tiny and completely helpless. There were a few sticky situations resulting from our lack of experience, but the tiny...
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