Two years ago, I found a kitten on my way to work. It was sitting at the base of the tree near the bus stop that I got off to go to the office. Worried that the frightened kitten would dash across the road and get hit by a car or bus, I managed get him into a box thanks to a passerby who helped.
Brought him home, tried to clean him up, but he was too scared and defensive and would hiss and scratch if you tried to get near. I put a dish of milk and let him be.
The next day, I took him to the vet who did an X-Ray and found that he had a broken leg which explained his limping. She put a bandage around his leg, and said that he was probably 2.5 months and hit by a bicycle. A car accident would have left him dead.
Ruq kindly agreed to adopt the kitten, and named him Couscous (which was a waaaaay better name than the original "Tensing Krishna Fries Kitty Meow Meow Lee-Ong-Tan-Ho-Leong" that we gave). He took an instant liking to her, and would be super manjah towards her, while being totally shy in front of strangers. I visited him once after, and was glad to know he was doing well.
The last time I met Ruq, she shared that Couscous was sick and suffering from cat-HIV (forgot the proper name). He had been going for treatment and had up and down days. Today, I got a message from her to tell me that he passed away.
Rest in peace, Couscous. I'm glad you had a good home for the past two years, and that you were loved and well taken care of. I don't know how you came to end up at the base of that tree, but I guess everything happens for a reason. Be happy in kitty heaven.