Rescuing Mufasa; or the difference between rescuing a dog and a cat.
One thing I can't help noticing in every rescue video Eldad posts is that the dogs are almost immediately grateful and show instant adoration to their rescuers.
We've been feeding Precious, a mostly feral cat for two years, and she had only just began letting my husband pet her. On her terms only. She really enjoyed being touched. My son and I were able to touch her only one or two times and just that, touch her.
Then, as fall was closing in, my husband decided he wanted her to come into our entrance hall (which is long and narrow). He wanted her to have a warm place to sleep on cold nights.
So I started putting her food on the porch, then just inside the door. She would come in and eat only if the door was left open behind her. I got the plate of food half way down the hall. Then, one late afternoon, my husband opened the door when she came to be fed and he lured her in. Somehow, he closed the door behind her just as I opened the inner door to bring out her food.
Precious, startled, ran into the house and has since made it clear that she is not leaving. She has taken over (and is in the process of destroying the rug) a loft that we haven't used in about five years... A knee problem I have makes going upstairs difficult, but downstairs darned scary. She only comes down at night when she thinks we are asleep and runs back up if she sees us up.
My husband is making the trek upstairs most days now (she likes him) to pet her and try to get her willing to come down with the rest of us. It will take time. She has already been in the house for about three months and is even more stand offish than she was a few weeks ago.
She doesn't seem to be in good health, but I cannot take her to the vets until I (or my husband) can pick her up...
Meanwhile, all Eldad has to do to get unreserved devotion from his rescue dogs is feed them cheeseburgers and give them a bath...
= new reply since forum marked as read
a feral kitten, who had been born in the parking lot outside my apt. building. Chloe was between 6-9 months old at the time. I gradually got her used to being picked up and held for very brief periods, but that was the extent of any contact. Chloe never became a lap cat, or even a sit-next-to-you cat. She was happy to be in the same room with me, maybe spend some time sitting on a shelf of the cat tree. She slept on my bed but stayed down by my feet. She always kept her distance, and getting her into the carrier for vet visits was always an epic struggle for which I'd have to "suit up". I'd sometimes jokingly ask her if she was adjusting to the amenities of fine living, like having a roof over her head and regular meals. 
And we love that. 
