My cat, Koga, has a white slash across her right eye. I have no idea how she got the scar. What I do know is that, when we first met, she hopped into my lap and looked up at me. No hesitation. Everything that happened before then, out on the mean streets of Brooklyn, is shrouded in mystery. Anyone who meets Koga thinks she’s a kitten at first. But no, she’s at least six years old – maybe older. I have no idea, and the vets don’t either. She’s so small. My best guess is that Koga probably spent some time starving. Even now, many years later, meat has a certain way of making her seem possessed. Whatever actually happened, the truth is that I don’t like thinking about it. She’s the sweetest cat I’ve ever met, and the idea that she spent any time at all suffering – however brief it might have been – immediately makes me upset. After playing Mewgenics , I started thinking about Koga’s time as a stray differently. Sure, she’s partially blind now. But she’s alive.…