We have been adopted by a feral cat in our campground. I decided to name him Will...as in Will Feral. Yeah, I know the spellings different, but just go with it, ok?
I'd like to call him a black and white cat, but that would be a most generous term. Black and dingy would be more appropriate. I would love to be able to bathe him, but I don't see that ending well, so have resisted the urge.
At first I was throwing him what ever leftover meat I had available, then it was the cat food no longer favored by Princess Grace and Prince George...picky things that they are.
Now when he sees us come home from our afternoon outings he comes into the yard and gives this pitiful meow.
And he's become much more confident already and will turn and run to the bushes with his tail held high as I follow him with the can of food. He now has his own cat food, just the cheap stuff by Friskies, but the cans are larger and much less expensive than what the royal party of two eat here in the RV.
As you can see by his latest positioning on top of the cat tent that he's feeling very much at home.
I feel badly for when we leave, but until then he'll be eating well and I hope to put a little fat on those bones.
We can't save them all, but this one chose us and we can make a difference for him at least.
Long Live the Queen of Soft Spots