This is what an 8-12 year old feral looks like...

[debster747]

What a great story!  I printed out your original post to show my husband.  We've been caring for 5 ferals for a few years now.  DH built them a wonderful, heated home for the winter, which they love.  The three boys are very friendly and totally trusting.  The two females are a challenge.  We try very hard to be friends with the girls.  When my husband feeds them he actually gets down on his hands & knees, doesn't make eye contact.  Mama comes closer now and he's actually touched her side a few times.  The other, though, sits several feet away until we close the patio door, and then she comes to eat.  She won't let us near her.  I sit outside, talk to them, and just hang out.  Thanks for showing us that there's hope!

 

[mrjinx]

Thanks everyone!

He really is a very special cat. This morning I got up, sat with my coffee, and within minutes, there was a big black purrface spread out on my entire body, basically. LOL

He spends his nights behind the sofa. He likes to sleep down there for whatever reason. But as soon as he hears me plop down on the couch, he saunters out, stretches, tears at my rug (ha!) and then jumps right up for kisses.

I was just saying to DH today, "Can you remember when Mr. Jinx was just a little black butt and tail that stuck out from under the old house?" Because he was literally just that. You never saw him, only his back. And the few times I did see him in the yard, he'd run the moment he noticed me. 

I kept placing the food out at night, hoping to catch sight of him. Then one night, through the door, he let me watch him eat and didn't run, though I could see he was still terrified. That's when everything really started.

There is so much hope! It just took patience and a consistent attempt, no matter what. Even when he would attack (I had a few surprises from him - he was a full fisted whacker, so one time he was loving all over my face and then freaked and beat me up pretty badly. But even then, you could tell it was some kind of PTSD, and I'd leave him for a little while to tell him I was upset, and when I'd come back, he'd be actually sad, and trying so hard to be friends again. Lucky for me that only happened twice. And lucky for me (not him, though) that he doesn't have his canines. I'm pretty sure I'd have been broken!

But now he is literally a pile of furry mush. He even sleeps on the dog if he gets the chance!