I "rescued" a tiny black feral kitten who was curled up underneath a gas meter near the building where I work. Since most days have been as hot as hell, I was worried this kitten wouldn't survive sleeping on the concrete. I brought the little guy home though he was deadset against being rescued. I live in a neighborhood in a mostly wooded area. He didn't like the indoors - I think the air conditioning might have been a bit much - so I took him outside to feed him. The little guy, who I named Huckleberry just because he reminds me of the Mark Twain character, ate the food I gave him, explored the yard - and took off. I've seen him twice since I brought him home. He won't let me near him and he takes off when he sees I've spotted him. Huckleberry seems to be doing fine. I leave food and water out for him. Maybe I should leave him a corn cob pipe.