We already had two cats that we had adopted from a shelter years ago and were NOT looking for another one.
My son began complaining that an animal was getting into the garbage outside so we bought a better can with a tight lid. That's when a half grown kitten began yelling on the deck because the "buffet" had been closed.
He was just skin and bones with a raggedy coat and a bad cut across his nose and very skittish. Well, we couldn't let him starve so the plan was to feed him long enough to get him to the point where he trusted us to pick him up. Then I would would bring him to the local shelter. Yeah, right.
I knew he wasn't going anywhere when he jumped up on the outside sill of the window to our home office and my husband tapped on the glass and said, "Oh, he's just a kitten". A few days later I brought him into the house and he hasn't left for 3 years. He is now soft, chubby and extremely spoiled. We named him Mere because that's how we used to call for him when he was outside, "Hey, c'mere!"