We call him Walter White

We heard it for the first time at the supper table Wenesday night. A faint, high-pitched sound that could have been coming from one of the girls, had they not been sitting right beside us. With food in their mouths. It just kept going and going until hubs and I found ourselves up on our feet, walking and listening, in the dining room, then into the den. What was that?

And then we saw him.

Sweet little bundle of gray and white fur, poking his head out from under the mini. Hubs put a little tuna in a bowl and took it outside, and while he did scamper away quickly when we got too near, the tuna was gone the next morning.

We've repeated this ritual everyday since then, but he still backs away when we get too close. Saturday morning, I had the brilliant idea of moving the food closer to the window so that I could get this...

I named him Walter White, and if you get the reference then you must be a fan of our fave tv show.

We played outside Saturday evening in the hopes that he'd see what a fun, non-violent family we are.

Hello 80 degrees in November.

But it's my Oliver who is the most determined to get Walter to like us.

He sat like this for quite a while, and just watched.

And waited.

When we arrived home from church yesterday, he was asleep on the picnic table. Again, Oliver watched.

And waited.

And Walter went from this,

to this,

and then this.

Which is definite progress in my book.

I was able to get these with my mega zoom lens.

Pardon my fancy photograpghy jargon.

So...if you live near me and are missing this precious kitty, we have him.

His new name is Walter White, or Walter baby, as the girls like to call him.

And if no one comes a'lookin' for him, well I reckon I'll keep you updted on whether or not Oliver ever gets to pick him up.

Which the poor boy is desperate to do.

We shall see...