A Kitten’s Christmas I graduated from Fordham University in 1980 when I was twenty years old. I rented an apartment in a five-floor walkup, but could not immediately move in because of roach infestation. I bombed it and sprayed, but the little bastards clung to their residency status. It took two months of weekly bombing and spraying before I saw progress. Upon graduation, Seamus, one of my best friends, gave me a kitten. After winning my battle with the little critters, I cleaned up the place and moved in, but I wouldn’t bring the cat to the apartment until I was sure the poison had dissipated sufficiently to not present a risk to the kitten. To her chagrin, I left my kitten temporarily at my mother’s house.  The day before Christmas Eve (Shouldn’t that be Christmas Eve Eve?), I walked into my old bedroom only to see my kitten perched precariously on the icy windowsill. My sister had left the window open and the screen pulled up.  I...(Read Full Article)