A cat in the wilderness

There is a stray cat that comes to visit us every day for food. At first
we named him Sylvester, but I started calling him Little Boy for short.
Little Boy is pretty scraggly looking...about as thin as a cat can get
without showing ribs. Something is wrong with his voice box because he
can't meow or purr. Thus the only thing he can do to let us know he's
hungry is stand, at soldier-like attention waiting on the front stoop.

Only rarely does he let us pet him and that's usually when he's eating. We
think he'd like to be an indoors cat the way he comes to put his nose
against the screen door when he's done eating. But when we open it,
inviting him in to the promise of a guaranteed meal, a comfortable bed and
companionship, he just stands there starring in.

Until recently I'd been feeling a bit like Little Boy, waiting silently if
a bit skittishly for the free handout from a higher power and then
waiting/wanting something else but not knowing what it is. It's driven me
to distraction of late.

I know there is something more but I can't quite figure out what it is, let
alone name it. In my frustration, I have found my voice but all it does is
whine or complain. Nothing productive really. Still, it's something.

What's the change? Where is it?