Meet Number Three, the boldest of a litter of three spotted white cats we rescued, named for the three black spots on his back. Number Three was pure bravado. He might have been a feral kitten the first time I spotted him in the neighbor’s backyard when he was just a month old, but he was so full of curiosity that he didn’t run off and hide. Instead, he cocked his oversized head to the left, put one careful paw in front of the other as if he was still learning to defy gravity with baby steps, and started walking towards me, his small white chest out, his golden eyes never leaving me.