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I was born the daughter of a woman with a huge heart and a tiny wallet.  She took in strays of every sort, four legged as well as two.  She taught me that it’s important to give as much as possible, and never expect anything in return.  I’ve worked my entire life to live up to those lofty goals, not always succeeding.  I’m great with the four-legged strays, not always so much with the two-legged.  Today my home is populated by give-aways and strays.  Zoe, my momma cat came to me one weekend when someone was moving into our neighborhood.  She had apparently stowed away in a moving van, and as bad luck would have it, escaped only to find herself in the midst on one of the worst storms in our community’s history.  I found her nearly voiceless from screaming, sitting on the tire of my car.  About a year later she had one kitten - Milo - a deaf, and not overly bright boy with a superb disposition and great gold eyes.  Next came Tim - the runt of a litter that was born among the shoes in my neighbor’s closet.  He looked ill, and Kelli wasn’t sure she could keep him alive.  Well, of course I took him, and soon learned he had numerous congenital defects, all (or any) of which would result in premature death.  That was over 8 years ago.  He’s still chugging along.  Next came Angie - tossed out to fend for herself in a nearby community late in the fall.  She survived all winter eating on the kindness of strangers and out of garbage cans.  The Humane Society tried to capture her all winter long, but she eluded them until nearly spring.  She was bone thin with an immensely dense coat from living out in the weather.  I adopted her and she’s been one of the best critters I’ve ever had.  Finally came Mona - the "problem child" of our household.  Mona was never socialized as a baby.  She was purchased from a puppy mill in the south, brought to Wisconsin without veterinary intervention of any kind.  No shots, no de-worming.  Nothing.  When the neighbor who had her learned his landlady was less than happy he parked her outside with virtually NO human contact other than food (about 1 cup food and 1 cup water - one of those little side-by-side food/water dishes for cats) daily.  She was tied to a porch in mid-summer without little shade, and barely enough water to keep her alive.  Came home one evening and there were 2 neighbor kids standing in front of the steps leading to my house (I have to climb a stairway to get to my porch) and there at the top was a snotty-nosed, worm-bellied rusty red pup.  She bubbled when she breathed, and her sides heaved.  I gave her food and water, and picked her up to comfort her only to realize she was filled with fleas, and looked like she had mange.  She smelled strongly of urine, and I was immediately concerned that she might be heading for kidney failure.  I put her in an old dog kennel for the night, let her rest and eat, and took her back hom in the morning.  The scene was something right out of Tennessee Williams.  The woman who answered the door wore an old fashioned sundress, held a baby, and there were a couple pale-faced kids standing behind her.  I didn’t even know I HAD kids for neighbors.  They never came outside.  I explained everything.  She mutely took the dog, thanked me perfunctorily and shut the door in my face.  A few days later the pup was back with yet another chewed through tether dangling over her bony chest.  Fed, watered, took home.  I gave the neighbor a bottle of flea shampoo and some vitamins for her.  Even said I’d be willing to drive them to the vet if they had transportation issues.  No thanks.  Okey dokey.  Finally they parked her in the back yard that shared a common fenceline.  I’d come home from work, feed and water her over the fence.  They realized I was feeding and watering her so they put her back in the front yard under the stoop.  Finally I went over and told the guy that it was the cops or me.  He puffed up (all 5/6, 125 pounds of him) and ranted and raved and did his "guy" thing.  I said fine.  I’d give him until the weekend.  Saturday he came slinking over and asked if I meant it.  Yup, I said.  A few days later I had a new dog.  First day out we dropped a hefty bundle at the vet and learned she was highly contagious.  She had internal and external parasites, as well as one that can jump to humans Giardia.  I went over to tell the former owner about it and was told to mind my own business.  They’d take care of their own kids.  Right.  So, after 6 months of doctoring and LOTS of patience, Mona was better.  She is a panic biter - with LOTS of socialization issues - but she loves the heck out of me and the other animals.  They’re my four-footed family.  Our house is bursting at the seams.  No more room - but that’s what I said when I got Tim - and kept Milo, and took Angie, and .....   LOL