Blue

There's a cat in the house; he's a regular visitor, and usually a pain in the arse because he's an unneutered male tabby who sprays everywhere and asserts his dominance through violence. If he was human he'd probably have a battered wife. You and your husband call him Blue.

After a while he even tested your patience, and you instigated a policy of forcible ejection if he ever intruded on your territory, and you became one cat he couldn't handle. For a while it looked like he got the hint because he left your house well alone, although you did have to catch him one day when you realised that the mucky blue dog collar that coined his name was too tight and had to be removed.

Yesterday he came back, and looked in a very sorry state. He is hungry, dehydrated, as thin as a Size 00 Model and yowling in pain. He smells of dogs and filth and it clearly looks like whoever his owners were, they aren't anymore. He has been abandoned. You thought he'd gone feral but right now he's acting too friendly for that. Like he knows that his last hope lies with you, the neighbourhood Paladin of Cats.

Gizmo is not happy with his presence, but then that's normal for her; she's a rampant feminist. Galileo and Ziggy though are tolerating him, and the latter is even investigating him with considerable curiosity, despite the dog smell. He is reacting to her with gentle tolerance.

For now, you are feeding him, letting him stay and checking up on him every now and then. He's a little paranoid and springs to his feet to make a run for it but he's too weak and he knows you don't mean any harm. You fully expected to wake up to find him dead this morning. If he survives the night, you're going to have to call the RSPCA and see what they can do for him, because he is very sick and even with your heart and your concern your house is just too small to take on another cat.