When I brought my puppy home on the Metro North, a man next to me on the train suggested I name him "Cat." Little (yet unnamed) North pawed and batted at the crate doors like a little kitty . . . and, to this day, he has mastered the sneak-up-and-pounce technique on his squeakers. Yeah, so the toys aren't alive or moving – perhaps he's not the brightest cat in the bunch – but I find him often catlike nonetheless.