I grew up a "dog" girl. My family only ever had dogs. My first memory is of a childhood chihauhua, then a lovable mutt that we had to give away when we moved to the USA from England, then a daschund I adored, and finally the lovable, droopy, drooling half bloodhound/half basset hound that passed away when I was in college.
Then suddenly, three years into my collegiate career, a tiny little siamese kitty showed up on my boyfriend's doorstep one fall day. He was pressed against the brick near the door, probably seeking some warmth as it had just started getting chilly outside. We brought him in the apartment, fed him a piece of bologna, let him walk around a bit and then shooed him outside.