Farrell, The Feral Cat....

....has been living around my mom's house for as long as I can remember.  I have no idea how old she is (I don't even know if Farrell's a she, I've just designated her as such).  To me, she is timeless.  Since Mom has been feeding her for years, this lovely cat who was skittish and watchful now lets Mom pet her, sits in Mom's lap, and peers through the dining room window, waiting for her to come out and sit on the front porch bench that Farrell has designated hers.  When I drive up the driveway, I see Farrell on the bench, a guardian of the house, lounging and alert, saying to all comers, "This is mine."  I've now been feeding Farrell and sitting outside in the mornings and evenings and she now rubs her head against my hand when I dole out the food on the front porch.  She hasn't quite figured out who I am but seems to know that I'm not going to hurt her.  She's wary but wanting to be touched but can't quite let herself let me pet her fully.  And when I sit on the bench, she'll walk around me at the porch's edge, sometimes putting one paw on the bench but then thinks better of it and walks away to fit herself into one of the empty flower boxes and just be with me.  It's quite lovely and wonderful to build this trust.  We sit there, listening to the birds and feeling the sun climb or sink in the sky....