I never thought it would happen to me. As a child I was taught to hate cats. My mom had some weird grudge, probably because she grew up with small dachsunds who could definitely die at the paws of even the prissiest house-dwelling feline. One day, however, she found a black cat in the backyard. She named her “Spooky Boo,” and was very obviously developing a fondness for the creature. Eventually, she discovered that the cat had five, maybe six kittens in our compost box. A smelly but warm and co…