Prince in his new location

But this blog is about Prince the feral whom I thought was a Princess because of his timid, reclusive ways. The first surprise upon picking him up with the group who never truly considered him a part of them, was that he was a male. Therefore, renamed.

He spent a week or 2 in a large cage on my back porch. I covered it from the hot sun and put a fan out there to cool him. He remained scared to death. If I came near him, he hissed, quietly, fearfully. It wasnt a pleasant time for either of us.

My 2 little cats werent allowed out the first week so as not to frighten him further.

Eventually, not knowing how to clean the cage, I had to let him onto the porch where he remained hidden for another 2 weeks. he slid out to eat when I wasnt around. Hissed if I came near him. I wondered what I had done and how to ever get close to this cat. I wondered if he were more miserable here than lost on the streets.

If you look closely, you can see the cropped ear: sign of the feral. You can also see he is plumping up and starting to keep himself clean tho my 2 couldnt stand to be near him. I had no idea they were such snobs since they werent brought up that way.

Eventually, Prince got out the open porch door. I searched for him at night and the next day. I bought binoculars to further search him. I went to sporting goods stores loking for night binoculars to better spot him in the dark. Every white piece of paper was a potential discovery of this cat, every white hunk of garbage, every pail. If he got hurt, I would blame myself. Armed with various truths abt cats- they always return to where they are fed, they return miles away to their first home, they are shot to death by cat haters, etc I learned to just let time take its course (yeah right, not)