I was worried about him. He had been absent from his usual perch. And then one day I spotted him there. He was wounded: a juicy gash torn into his ribs. He looked frail and withered.
So we made a point to have water nearby, and although he was often nowhere to be seen, he would periodically show up, his long tail curled against the stabby blades of the agave.
But then he went missing.
Today as we returned from the greenbelt, there he was on the side of the house: evidence that he’s getting around a little more. His color was bright. His wound and he looked much better.
I like to think setting out the water was key.