Rory has been "one of the family" for some considerable time [ 18 months, I believe.] When we first set eyes on him, he was wandering through the snow followed by Mother cat and a black kitten. Mr soop made the wee wooden chalet, under which, we put out a few scraps of food. The cats ate the food but stayed well away from us. One day, Rory wandered into the utility room. I put a dish of food on the doormat. When I startled him a little later in the evening, he attacked me. I bear the scars. We then put a cleaned out wheelie bin on its side. We furnished it with a smart igloo cat basket and several fleeces. He loved it. He bacame "fond" of us. We tried to capture him so that he could be neutered. He refused to enter the trap - finishing up high on a shelf, looking down on we mere mortals.
. His wifelet and by then, two kits, were captured. The vet sterilised the three girls. They have lived happily ever since, 'though we haven't seen the tiger-stripe kit for several weeks.
Rory would wander around the garden with Mr soop. He has been into the house for a quick looksie on many occasions. He winds himself around my legs. He no longer hisses, spits or bites. He joined us recently as we had a drink on the terrace. He took a liking to Mr soop's canvas chair. Mr soop therefore sat on a cushion on the steps. 
We've no idea how old he is. He is battle-scarred and certainly not in his prime.
Have checked outside...for the umpteenth time...still no Rory.