I must have a sign

Because look what came running up to me, crying And just where have you been???, as I unloaded everything from the car after the massive, all day event that was taking Spud to his developmental assessment.
  Which brought the very good news, btw, that while he is behind, he is not on the autistic scale. Yay! Behind - that's nothing. This kid is already 7 different miracles for being born 3 months early (and every time you read that, please think about it just for a second. Three months early. That's 6 months pregnant. That's "Is she pregnant or just getting fat?") Compared with all the problems we could have been facing, behind is nothing.

Anyhoo, my brand new long lost friend,

Isn't she pretty? She's between 3 and 4 months old and I've no idea where she came from. None at all. Punkin is calling her Natasha. Like many strays, she goes cross-eyed with purriness if you so much as look at her.

In honour of yet another foundling, one of my favorite poems. This poem is commonly found on the internet as "To Love Again" and attributed to Anonymous. And, for some reason, he is changed to a she. But here is the original, unglamorous title, substantial author and everything.

STRAY CAT 

by Francis Witham 

Oh, what unhappy twist of fate

Has brought you homeless to my gate?

The gate where once another stood

To beg for shelter, warmth, and food

For from that day I ceased to be

The master of my destiny.

While he, with purr and velvet paw

Became within my house the law.

He scratched the furniture, and shed

And claimed the middle of my bed.

He ruled in arrogance and pride

And broke my heart the day he died.

So if you really think, oh Cat,

I'd willingly relive all that

Because you come forlorn and thin

Well...don't just stand there...Come on in!

Yeah. 

My sign says Welcome.