Patches came to us when we needed to relocate a long-time existing colony, due to the new property manager not wanting us there.

They were all in an enclosure for some time, but eventually all got out. But they were confined long enough to know that this was their new turf and I was their new (and regular) provider, and stayed around.

It got to be obvious that Patches was not doing well. But she was a feral. Not mean or aggressive, just not trusting of us vertical cats.

The last time I saw her, I was sitting on the patio, and she and Cheetah, her constant companion since becoming ill, walked past a few feet away.

I made the chirp noise I usually do, and they both stopped. She looked me square in the eye for several seconds. I said, ‘I would get you help if you would only let me.’

I saw in her eyes, ‘Thank you. For everything you’ve done. Saving me (us). Sheltering and feeding us. But I am a feral, and I this is how I am.’

The two were inseparable for a while. And all over the property.

And then she was gone.

I’ve no idea where she went to expire. I never found anything of her on the grounds.

I am SO grateful that Cheetah looked after her. It was awesome to watch the two of them.

Cheetah is still quite feral. In about six years of feeding, and four years on the grounds, I still cannot touch him. But e does look me in the eye, and he does talk to me.

Bless him.

And his rescue mate, Callie, who I have only recently barely touched when feeding her.


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