He (or possibly she) started to be seen skulking around the edges of my yard, which borders a large wooded area, a few months ago. He was painfully thin, gray and white fur dull and lifeless. He was skittish, darting away into the woods if one of us appeared suddenly. I named him Bob as somewhere on his travels he lost most of his tail. Not very original and possibly defamatory, but there you are.

He would disappear for stretches of time, and I would begin to worry that something had befallen him. Then one day he would appear again, at the edge of the woods, stalking across the neighbor’s yard, and once lolling in my flower bed.

So, after a time, I bought cat food, leaving it and water a safe distance from the house. At first, he would not come near if I was outside and if I accidentally startled him mid-meal, away he ran. But one day I came upon him and he simply paused, and went back to eating. I gingerly sat down in a patio chair and took great care not to look at him. And he stayed.

After that day he allowed me stay and watch him eat, and now he takes time after his meal to stretch luxuriously, and groom his now healthy and lustrous coat.

Now most mornings we sit in companionable silence, together taking in the wonder of the new day. Asking nothing of each other we cock our heads in tandem at birdsong, watch leaves fall and enjoy the occasional cool breeze. Then we part, me into the house to get ready for work, and he into the mysteries of his day.

Then the other morning when I filled his bowl, I saw beside it a tiny dead mole. A thank you of sorts I suppose. You are welcome.