FC was not around when I arrived home to feed him yesterday. I had an extremely bad day, that had been the nadir of several bad weeks. And when he didn’t trot out to meet me or come when I called, I decided he was dead. And the tears that had been falling down my face fairly consistently all day, started again. Welcome to my broken brain – always focusing on the worst outlook.
As I leaned over to put his food down, I caught sight of him. Under the truck – eating a chipmunk. And he was not even considering the fine Fancy Feast cat food I was offering him. He clearly prefers fresh to canned.
I was soo relieved. On all levels. Not just because he was alive and well, but because he is clearly able to hunt well and feed himself. And while I don’t plan to stop feeding him, it’s just a comfort somehow. He’s a wild being.
This morning he came trotting up to me to lead me to his dining area so he could have his breakfast. He’s too wise to ignore a gift of food.