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.