Scabby Cat

[smokingboot]

If he ever tolerates being given a name, I might call him Monty, short for Tony 'Scarface' Montana. His wound never gets worse, but it never gets better either. It just remains red, huge and horrible, so possibly a burn. He has been here twice this morning for food, and then just goes.

Though he comes to my door every day, his mistrust of humans is very great. He will come a little way into the house, but if he hears anything like, for example, a human trying to sneak round and close the doors behind him, he's off. A neighbour is ready to help, says she keeps her cat carrier in the corridor and can dash around, but the issue remains the same; we need him in an enclosed space to enable a capture in the first place, chasing him around the garden will both fail and scare him. He has snuck into the house before, when the weather was like this, and we were away - I know because I came back unexpectedly (for both of us) and he streaked out like furry freaked out lightning.

Monty Scabcat, it's a terrible day. Come sit inside, I've lit the fire and there's a cushion beside it, a sofa and food and water nearby. Come on lad, the warm is waiting.