A few weeks ago a tiny, teenincey (as we say in the South) kitten showed up on the back porch. He was almost too small to eat crunchy cat food. But he kept at it manfully.
We are not keeping him. We are not keeping him. But we feed him twice a day (breakfast at 7:00 a.m., tea at 4:00 p.m.) just like we do Mr. Collins, the dignified ginger tabby that's been hanging around the porch for a couple of years.
We're still not keeping him, but since Daisy has initiated him into the pleasures of petting and lap-sitting, it looks like we're going to be able to get him to the vet for a fixing and some shots. I think that battle has been won.