Getting out of the truck and heading to the garden, I was startled to see this little thing, curled up beside an ornamental shrub.
We did not get nearly as much done as we had intended, but we didn't feel badly about it.
There's always Sunday.
When we got home, I saw Mangey. I was glad to see him and called to him, setting out a bowl of food as usual. He took one look at me and tore out of the yard like his tail was on fire. I went out later, and the food sat in the bowl, untouched. It's my fault. I rushed it. I should not have tried to touch him before he'd decided that he trusted me.