In 2004, our black cat named Kitty was getting up in years and growing sedentary. My wife Amy decided he needed a companion to get some pep back in his step. I had just donated a kidney to my sister, and Amy suggested we get a new kitten and name it after my surgeon. In mid-September, we went to the St. Paul Animal Humane Society and adopted a black-and-gray tabby and named her Doctor Foster. Kitty wasn't all that happy with a new little sister, but she kept him on his toes pretty much until the day he died last March at the age of 14. Doctor Foster herself turns 7 this summer and has slowed down just a little. We're getting ready to find her a companion as well. We hope to have just as much success when we visit Animal Humane Society later this year. The photo is Dr. Foster's visit to our home in Saint Paul last fall to meet his namesake.