Six years ago today, I attended a cat adoption to find Annabelle a little brother. It was at a Petco ten blocks up Broadway at 92nd Street. The adoption began at 2:00, and by 3:00 I had discovered and filled out adoption forms for a 3-month old baby named Thatch. Five days later, I traveled to northern Manhattan to bring him home. It was followed by a month of hell and a period of debate over returning him, but our DR Laura was a constant source of encouragement./ Everything she predicted about Thatch came true, and I would now die before giving him up.