Why me or Lord, why me?
Just returned from a full day at the Grandlads.
Dogs were barking more than usual.
Woody went to fill the water bowls and let out a cry - "My Goodness!"
There, comfortably ensconced on the kitchen window sill was:

A very skinny, very cute kitty.

Woody reached for her, and she jumped right up on his shoulders.

We took her outside, and set her down - but no way was she leaving - much leg rubbing ensued. I went inside and found a can of 9Lives which I took ouside. Kitty took a few gulps right away. She then got up in my arms and I got the motor-running treatment.
Woody took her down to the basement - where we took the pictures.
Big Trouble - he called her Josie - already the damn cat has a name!
We let Fletcher down to met her; she was stand off-ish and he sniffed a little and lost interest. Buster came down and went bananas - Josie gave a swat at his snout and he backed away.
Bonnie was next, and was much too excited to introduce (another woman in my house - I THINK NOT!)
Josie is now alone in the warmer basement with food and water curled up on an old couch.
Poor thing is thin as a rail, all ribs - just a bag of bones -but neat and clean; certainly not a feral cat.
I don't want to toss her out in the chilly weather, so I guess she spends the night.
der Brucer