Last Thursday afternoon my partner called me at work in an anxious voice to
tell me there was a kitten sitting on the 3rd floor window ledge of his
office building.  The windows don't open, how'd it get there, what should I
do?  Call the fire department, dummy!  They came, they rescued, they left
it with my partner.  When I got there a short while later I saw a filth-
encrusted bundle of love, the most affectionate kitten I've ever seen.  You
pick her up and she melts into your arms, purring madly.  She was about 7-8
months old.  Into a box, into the car, and home we go, isolating her in a
bathroom until she could go to the vet for a health check, tests, etc.  She
was starved and dehydrated, downing an entire can of food in 5 minutes,
followed by a bowl of water over the next half hour.  The vet found no
disease and no parasites and pronounced her very healthy in spite of being
underweight, no doubt the result of being on the streets for some time.  
Off to home and a comforting bath (she didn't mind), careful drying and
cuddling.  She, now named "Popie", spent yesterday at the spay & neuter
clinic where everyone fell in love with her and two people asked if they
could adopt her.  No way!  Popie spent today in a dimly lit spare bedroom
with a bath.  We've spent a lot of time with her tonight, but it's too soon
to turn her loose with our other four.  Popie is a beautifully marked
Tuxedo.  She completes a trio of tuxedos with our 10 month old twin boys.  
Our two adults complete the picture; Bailey, our 6 year old mackerel tabby,
and Millie, our 13 year old long-haired bob-tail.  Everyone loves Popie,
but probably me the most!