This is exactly what happened to my family in 2004. Only a couple of months after my husband died, 12-week-old Biscuit walked in the front door like he owned the place. Princess was smitten, and he helped bring her out of the funk of grief. He never made any moves to go back "home," which was in the neighborhood. We found out years later that his name was originally Monkey and he belonged to another little girl. but the neighbors had several other of his littermates, so she adopted another one.
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