The bowl of cat kibble I left in the garage last week is disappearing slowly. With rat-like speed more than a cat-like speed, I'm afraid. I have not seen our little feral and nor have our neighbors. They are currently siding the shed under which she seemed to be living, and David hopes that she has simply moved to quieter grounds. I am less optimistic.
Hazel has been hopping around the house on three legs, rarely taking weight on the front right. I think it might be a problem with a claw as she keeps scratching at things, but she is not one to allow close examination of her paws without fierce retribution. She is otherwise her usual self doing all of her usual things, and seems better this morning. We may be off to the vet after Christina comes to trim the horses this afternoon.