Ringo is
a little kitty that for some reason
presented himself to us when he wasn't
much more than a month old. He came
popping out of our hedge in the front of
our house one July morning in 2001 as we
watered the flowers. He gave us a little
mew greeting and looked very hungry. His
little ribs were showing through his
short white fur. I asked him if he was
hungry and wanted to go inside for some
milk. I opened the front door and in he
ran. He went straight down the hall and
into our bedroom. I picked him up and
walked him to the kitchen and gave him a
small bowl of milk. While he was drinking
I asked my wife, Karen, "what do we
do about this?" As I asked, he
stopped drinking and with a small drip of
milk on his chin he looked up at us with
his pale blue eyes and gave us that
"poor little me" cat look.
Karen looked at me and without a word I
knew he was welcome to stay.
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