((You're walking down the street one cold lonely night, when a small child with cat ears, and tail, stumbles up to you, almost tripping. She looks malnourished, and no more than 4.))

She takes out a ripped piece of paper, and clears her tiny throat. On the paper it looks like absolute chicken scratch. — H-Hello, miss or mister... Are you interested in taking care of... a tiny catgirl child? My name is Trisha... I am four, and I am potty trained! She looks up at you with glistening eyes.