One of my little feral cats, Timmy, has finally decided I'm not going to harm him. He greets me at the door of the cat room every day and sniffs my hand, then turns around so I can stroke his tail. He doesn't stay with me very long, but I think that's the best he can do for now. When rescued, he and his two sisters had been orphaned and had begun hiding behind the shrubs in my front yard. I feel for this little band of feral kitties. I'm sure they don't realize what a rough life they had before I trapped them and brought them inside the house. They do seem happy and content even though they don't want to be held and the girls don't want to be petted. I'm hoping Timmy will be the example to them and one day I'll be able to stroke their tails too. I can't always have things the way I want them, but I accept the feral cats as they are. They're doing the best they can.