When I was a fourth grader, we had a cat. Dad made Tiger a little hanging door in a basement window, like a dog door, and she could come and go as she pleased. Tiger would go out in the morning, and she would play in our backyard. One day, my parents told me that our neighbors were mad at us because Tiger was killing their chickens. This was obviously not true – Tiger wouldn’t do that, and besides, the chickens were bigger than her. And my parents didn’t like those neighbors anyway. Innocent Tiger continued to roam. One night, I heard Tiger screaming in the basement. I was too young for bravery, and got into bed with my mom, who assured me that…