There remains no doubt in my mind that Larenti now trusts me a great deal more than she does any other human.

She spends most of her time on my patio.

She’s there nearly every morning when I wake up, at least 99% of the time.

She begs me for attention.  All the time.

She talks to me readily, without reserve or hesitation, and responds immediately when I speak to her.

She is less afraid of me—especially my hands—than she was when I first met her years ago.

And she doesn’t twitch when I step out to the patio, even when she’s extremely comfortable.

Like this. . .

As I told xocobra in the past, if I were to rescue another cat, it would be Larenti.

Very little doubt remains that such a thing will happen.

And as I ponder moving away from Dallas, she increasingly becomes a focus of my endeavors, a loose end I may well have to address sooner rather than later.

I find it abhorrent to consider leaving her now… especially now that she has grown so accustomed to me, so trusting of me, so reliant on me.

I am the only human she has faith in.

There now exists an expectation between us, one that presumes I will not abandon her or hurt her, something I know her previous caregiver(s) did.