They are owner-surrendered, as in "I'm done with these cats. I've got to move on." Probably not their first owner, but their most significant owner was a young vet tech. Knowing the way things go around vet's offices, I'm betting that she rescued these two, definitely the Siamese first, and probably Duke as a kitten or at least very young. She committed suicide at age 34. Her tombstone reads "Animal Lover." I can hardly imagine the pain she must have been in to leave her beloved pets behind. Her fiancé promised to care for them forever. By his clock, that's 5 years. I know they were painful reminders for him. But when he dropped them off, they were dehydrated, with scruffy, matted fur. I asked him to bring some reminders of home for them, like bed or toys; he brought half a bag of food and their carriers. When I brought out toy mice, they acted like it was Christmas. At 18 and 8, they were rolling on the floor, batting the toys, like they'd never had such fun. They're thrilled to be brushed and petted. I could go on, but, yeah, they needed somebody else to care for them because nobody was. I had blood work done--they hadn't seen a vet in almost 2 years--and the old guy has a slight thyroid condition, but both vets who have seen them have remarked that they're very healthy for their supposed ages, no doubt due to the good care they had early in life. Anyway, I took them because no one else was, and I'm not real hopeful about finding an adopter, but I will try for awhile and in the mean time, just love them as much as possible.
I know you'll take care of your new guy forever. That warms my heart.