Tom, No.1, story.

I promised you another story about my first "Tom". Yes, he was an unaltered male who disappeared from home at certain
times. I remember him coming home again in the spring season. He marched up the driveway in cadence with his demanding
voice, "Mm-row, mm-row, mm-row." He would be thin, and sometimes beat-up showing evidence of cat fights. Then half
starved he would be fed. In my family, pets were fed milk, bread, table scraps, and the left-over parts of cans of
red sockeye salmon. This was a favorite of Tom, No. 1. He would paw out from the can every cast scrap of that tasty
fish -- very patiently.

He also loved to hide in the hall closet at night when it was time to "put out the cat". In the closet was a small bed for my dolls, specially made by a neighbor who carved a complete set of a Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey circus parade
for his three children. Tom would go to sleep in this bed, and when I finally found him at night, he would look up at me
in the most trusting way. The most contented look would be on that cat's face, and I could hardly bear to put him out
for the night. The authority of my parents made me do it, anyway.