pets

The house I grew up in was just off a main road that connected several small towns and was a perfect spot for dumping strays. They all seemed to end up on our porch - probably because everyone else chased them away. My dad grew up on a farm and was never crazy about pets inside the house, but thought that it was important for kids to have them. My mom was notoriously soft hearted toward animals. When my dad moved out, our house became an animal hostel. Most of the animals ate what we fed them and moved on. There were 2 that we took in when it was cold, we named them, we fed them - they are still part of my family's folklore.
SUSIE:
Susie was a light brown dachshund that showed up on our doorstep. Sweet little dog, but she had some annoying habits. She loved underwear and would steal it whenever she got a chance. My mom, my sister and I were down to one pair of panties each before we discovered Susie's secret underwear hiding place under the couch. She also kept trying to sleep in the ironing basket.* Mom would chase her out and she'd jump right back in. One day we came home to find Susie back in the basket surrounded by 8 puppies. Apparently, our male poodle had made her feel very welcome. We named all of the puppies after battles; the only 2 names I can remember are Dunkirk and Appomattox. We ended up finding homes for all of them, including Susie.
SQUIRREL:
Squirrel was a Manx cat. I really don't know why we named her Squirrel, except that she was grey and kind of squirrelly-looking - no tail, one cauliflower ear and a big round head. We had other cats inside at the time, so we made her a bed on the front porch out of a garbage can turned on it's side and a blanket. Squirrel soon gave birth to a kitten - just 1, tortoiseshell colored and tailless - that we named Honky Cat (hey, it was the 70's). She was a terrible mother with an active social life and would leave Honky just about anywhere - on the front doorstep, in a rowboat in the back yard - and be gone for days. Squirrel gave birth the second time to 8 grey kittens, all alike, all with tails. We started calling them the Mundanes. An ad was put in the paper and we were down to the last kitten when a guy who came to take a look said, "What I really like is that cat without a tail. Where can I get one like that?" "Here" said my step dad, picking up Squirrel and handing her to him. I was devastated. I somehow ended up with Honky Cat who survived 4 moves with me and lived to the ripe old age of 17.
I don't see as many strays in our neighborhood as I did growing up off the main road, but the few animals that I see always try to follow me home. I must still have Animal Hostel in my veins.
*A note of explanation for you kiddies:
Back in the day, you had to practically iron everything. We kept a laundry basket for clean clothes that just needed ironed and hung up. One of my first jobs around the house at age 8 or 9 was to do the ironing. I didn't mind - I could watch cartoons at the same time.