I never knew much about cats, or particularly cared for them, until I found a tiny grey kitten one evening, maybe a day old, left at night, in the dead of winter, in a box with some ice cream next to it, inside a phone booth on the Upper West Side.
It was sooooo tiny, I thought it was a mouse. Its eyes were still closed and umbilical cord attached. I took the poor little thing home, and tried to feed it a corn syrup and water concoction, until I could get this kitten to a vet.
She turned out to be a girl — I named her Harley.