It's been a little over a year since Chris and Stephanie found a big orange tomcat wandering around in a hedge outside one of those sleazy check cashing places on the edge of a grocery store parking lot where Chris had parked his van while he and Stephanie went shopping for groceries. The cat wore no collar, was not neutered, and was dirty, but he was friendly, and meowed and rubbed up and purred until Chris attempted to pick him up and put him into the back of his van; then he scratched and wriggled and protested loudly.
Nevertheless, Chris got him home and put him in their garage, where he had to stay because they have three cats of their own. The next day Chris called and told me about the cat he'd found. He asked me if I'd stop by and check him out. I did, and I ended up bringing him home with me. "I'm not keeping him!" I said, "but I'll foster him until we find him a good home".
Of course the rest is history. Ike (named that because Chris found him the weekend of Hurricane Ike) has turned out to be a wonderful cat. A year later he's neutered, current on his shots, well fed, and apparently quite happy. And on this rainy fall night he's curled up on the couch just across the room from me, secure in the knowledge that he's found the place where he belongs.