Daniel Fung Our home now has six cats. None of them were planned. They arrived the way life often does: quietly and unexpectedly. Most came because a mother cat was looking for shelter. The latest is a small, sticky creature we have named Peanut. She appeared one evening, not obviously pregnant, begging just outside our door. Her meow was like a symphony of need. Day after day, she returned, as if she knew this was a place where her kittens might be safe. Eventually, we let her in.