Sam

He's still around, you know. He comes by in the early morning and in the twilight, although he surprised me around noon yesterday by sitting in the shade at the back yard gate.

His wounds heal. They open again. And heal. I think he's in a little better shape than he was when he was first noticed three weeks ago.

Sam won't eat while I'm around. He just hunches next to the food and waits for me to go away. And I do.

This morning, I saw him at the bottom of the steps. "Hey, buddy, what's up?"

I put two cans of Friskies on a paper plate and when I went back to the kitchen door, I opened it...

and he stood there, right there at the opening of the door, thinking about coming in.

(Before you crazy cat people (my peeps) get all crazy, no, I would never let him more than one foot into the house. The cat carrier is still right next to the door, open and ready to go.)

Oh, Sam, I think to him. There may be hope for you yet.

Oh - and at least one of the kittens is still around. I saw a little flash of fluffy orange behind dashing into the yews in front of the house on Saturday morning.