Life with Buddy began about six years ago with a white speck in the distance, away off in the woods. I could tell it was a
cat, since hardly any other creature is so snow white in appearance. In the beginning he wouldn't let me get within 100
yards. Months passed, and the only appearance of this cat would be distant, and if I approached, he would run off.

In the meantime I had other animals to feed, and of the many cats I cared for several of them were of the strictly outside
variety, so I had food available for them out under a lean-to, which was attached to one of the outbuildings. A year or
more went by, during which time I would notice the white cat, mostly out away in the woods, but occasionally I would see
him near where the other cats would feed. Many months and weeks would pass before I would finally get to see that he
was eating from the food that I had left for the other cats.

"Buddy," I would eventually call him, because I could only think to call him that when I would speak to him, and although
he was wild and woolly, he did appear to get along with the other cats. Eventually I made a first attempt at approaching
him while he was feeding, but he quickly ran away -- something he would do many times.  Many weeks and months
would pass before he would allow me to approach without running off, but even then he would only allow me to stand
near, probably no closer than 10 feet.  From there he would eat and observe me obliquely with a wary eye.  Closer and
closer I would inch until Buddy would allow me to stand within just a few feet as he would eat, and that standoff continued
for some time -- probably for at least another year before he would even allow me to approach to within an arm's length.

Eventually the time came when I knew I had to make an attempt to touch him. At least three years passed between the
time I first saw Buddy and the day I first touched him, and it had taken me all of that time with much patience and
perseverance to find myself with my hand outstretched to the cat that had come to consume so much of my thoughts
and energy. In a flash he let me know his opinion of my disposition. My arm looked like someone had taken a box cutter
and hit me with it three or four times. A pretty site it was not, and it felt not much different. This would be my experience
with Buddy for another several weeks and months. Buddy was a "bruiser" and well endowed when it came to claws and
teeth, and he was quick, as well as bold and brave. He no longer ran from me or avoided me, but he wouldn't let me
touch him. I paid the price for every attempt.

Buddy was a gorgeous cat -- fat and snow white; but he had issues.  His ears were banged up, he had sores here and
there, and his eyes and nose showed obvious signs of wear and tear.  I knew that if I were to ever help him out I had to
catch him somehow.

I did not have a small animal trap, but I did devise one out of an old hamster cage. I set the cage out and put food in it.
Eventually I did find him alone in the cage eating, and sprung the trap. Buddy made one brave attempt after another to
tear his way through the cage, and I had to use a garden tool to pick the cage up. I was able to successfully deliver
Buddy to the Vet where he was properly neutered and even received some teeth work. He had his ears cleaned out,
received the shots he needed, and just received a good going over.

I returned home with him and locked him into one of my bedrooms. I observed him for a day or two, by easing myself into
the room. He was not eating nor was he using his litter box. He was recovering from his visit to the Vet, and he was also
recovering his mean disposition. He was not in a good mood. I do not have central heat and air so during the summer I
leave the windows up with screens in place. After a few days in the room, Buddy found a way out. I went in one day and
could not find him anywhere. However I did find a large hole in the screen of one of the windows. Buddy had torn
through the screen and escaped to the outside.

It would be weeks before I saw Buddy again. He would eventually find his way back to the general area of the woods
where I had first seen him.  Buddy was back eating the food I had left out for the outdoor cats, and I found myself
starting over in my attempt to win him over.  Again several weeks would pass before Buddy would allow me back into his
presence.  However, even though he was still pretty rough, he would not spit and scowl as much as he had before when
I approached.  Oh, I received another slash or two from those lethal claws, but I never gave up.  I continued to reach
forth my hand, and Buddy continued to rebuff my advances with a well-timed slash of the paw.  Then one day, with hand
outstretched I very quickly touched his back then yanked back my hand.  At the same instance buddy turned and
scowled and raised his paw, but he did not strike. He bared his teeth to me and stared with a sour warning of beware.

Time went on this way, and I would snatch little touches of Buddy with him scowling and hissing menacingly, each time
raising his paw in a striking position, but never quite launching out at me. And then one day I reached out quickly and
put my hand ever so lightly on his back, but instead of retreating it quickly to avoid his retaliation I left it there. I braced
for what I knew was coming.  Quickly Buddy turned around and ducked his head, hissing his disapproval. But instead of
lashing out with his paw as I was expecting he just moved away. And he only moved a couple of inches, but at least my
hand was still intact.

This situation continued for another week or two, but eventually I found myself stroking Buddy's back and fur, without
fear of retaliation from this ball of white fur, which for so long had been a bundle of nerves and energy. Over time Buddy
began to mellow. And it did not take much longer. Eventually I placed both of my hands on Buddy's sides and with much
fear and trepidation on my part picked him up and held him for a while.  I would do this again and again, holding him for
longer periods of time.

Eventually I would once again deliver Buddy to my house, where through several more weeks and months, Buddy and I
got to know each other better. Eventually the relationship between Buddy and me blossomed to the point where Buddy
would reach forth his nose and rub faces with me as I held him.  Ah ..., there's nothing sweeter; nothing more satisfying!

So that is the story of how Buddy came to live with me.  So nowadays, instead of running from me, Buddy runs to me
and waits his turn among the other cats to be picked up and held.  Face rubs are his favorite thing to do now, but Buddy
still throws those paws around now and then.  Yes, Buddy does use those paws, those once lethal paws.  You see,
Buddy always throws out a paw to pull me back to him whenever I let him go.
I just can't get enough of that "Buddy."