We haven't seen either of the #yard #cats, Tux and Neo, for a few days. The cat food we put out is still getting eaten, and we're *reasonably* sure it's cats eating it rather than raccoons, because the plates are still in place when the food is gone. Raccoon raids, which we know well from previous experience, usually aren't that neat. But I'd feel better if I could actually see the cats eating it.

I've bragged a lot about our cat-rescuing record, and with good reason. Everyone at the #shelters we worked with was frankly amazed that we brought in four wild-born litters with no deaths, injuries, or disease. Throughout the #Denver metro area, there are a whole bunch of households with happy, healthy cats who are there because we made it happen. The cats must remember dimly if at all, and the humans will never know their stories. *We* know, and that's enough.

But we're not perfect. A few—all adults, never any of the #kittens born here—have slipped away. Too wild, too cautious, perhaps in some cases too abused. They come and eat the food we provide, seem to be responding to our friendly overtures, and then leave as silently as they arrived. All we can do is wish them well, and hope they found their way to some kind of forever home.

Some patients die. Some friendships end. Some dreams fail. Sometimes you know why, sometimes you don't. There is no perfection to be found anywhere in the universe.

I just really hope these two go on the win list. I'm selfish that way.