"My" feral, Kitty, and her brother, Kitty, live in my adapted workshed as weather threatens, like last winter in NE! They were only 4 months old when November blasted us early. They are true survivors!
I give them space, so they come if I call, and we'll spend the evening; they'll sit within a few feet, and follow at a distance if I'm pouting around the yard.
Here she's coming out of a first exploration of my cellar. "What??"