I thought about doing the APLS thing but really left it too late so here is my take on being a stray.
Hello, my name is Chainsaw. I was born in the back streets of a down market suburb to a poor and unknown mother. I am just another tabby with nothing really to recommend me to humans as a suitable adoptee. I used to sneak into a local house and eat their dog's food when he wasn't looking but one day I got caught. I was about three months old at the time.
They gave me lots of pats and called me Chainsaw because I purred so loud. They would have liked to keep me but the dog was old and frightened of cats - even such a small one as me. So the day after their sister got married, they gave me to her and I went to live in the little house by the creek.
It was very nice there. There was food and pats and leaves to chase and water to look in and a nice bed to share as well. I grew big and strong.
When I was two, a new creature moved in. He was very small to start with and woke up at inconvenient hours of the night. I mostly ignored him until he got big enough to grab bits of me - then I stayed clear of him until he was old enough to treat me with respect.
A couple of weeks after the new creature moved in, another kitten came to live with us. She was only about six weeks old and she was found in a rubbish tin. They called her Skillsaw but shortened it to Skilly and she was a pest! She still is. We always seem to battle and playfight over everything.
When Skilly was two and I was four another new creature moved in. We both avoided these two creatures for some time but the second one was much kinder than the first one and we liked him quite a bit.
Soon after this we left our house and stream and moved into the city to near where we had come from. There was a stream but it was three houses down from us. Never-the-less all four of us went there to play but only when a grown up came too. We lived happily in the new house for five years and then, once again, we moved. This time we only went across the valley and I had to be picked up from the old house five times before I decided that perhaps the new house was an alright place too.
Skilly got lost. She went hunting for rats (her favourite occupation) and didn't come home. Our owners went all over calling her but she didn't come. I thought I was lucky because she really was a pest.
For three months she was missing and then, just as we thought she was gone for good, she came home. She was very skinny but in good health otherwise. She didn't go out of sight for a long time after that and she got rather fat too for a bit. Now she is back to normal except she doesn't hunt rats outside of the backyard.
I am getting old now and rather stiff too. I will be 14 at christmas so I am an old man. I like to lie in the sun on the bank and drowse in the heat.
That is the story of my life so far.