The best of outcomes.
My grandmother kept complaining during the time when I worked so hard to save Gussy - taking food to him at all hours of the day and night, trying to figure out how to catch him and bring him in before he died of thirst, hunger, froze, or got taken by a bird - he was a very small kitten at the time. She told me to "oh, give up, you need your sleep more" (I barely slept during those 2-3 weeks).
Giving up wasn't going to happen. Not unless I found his dead body. My dad and I did figure out how to catch him... and he was part of the family for the next 14 years. He died a few months after I got Maddy when
she was a kitten. Now
she's the 14-year-old cat.