I have invited you to let me tell you about Tom, my amazing friend of the feline specie. Love for the feline specie comes from the story of Peter Rabbit and Mr. Mcgregor wherein the white tabby is grooming herself by a pool of water. Later I collected insects and rocks growing up to becoming a chemist with a major oil company and later a college chemistry instruc-tor. Moving to other cities, family, etc. I lost contact with that field. Among other things, I have performed as a singer, speaker, museum docent, book recorder, newspaper reader for the blind; worked to establish a lighting business and got a mas-ters degree in radio/tv production and performance. My latest work is writing popular fiction, novels. I will try to entertain with stories about Tom and what I've learned about cats.


This is for all of you who love cats, who live with one, or more,. It is also for those of you who value friendship and enjoy the company of others. I welcome you into my life, about my cat and me. It may be we have other like interests and special loves than cats and friendship, be-cause I like to share, at times, some special insights, or some degree of enlightenment that may spring upon me. So, please join me for a little part of your day.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Tom's Routine

I posted a blog in July which I don't see here, so I will do it again -- more brief this time.  I have
mentioned before that Tom is big on routine.  When I first get up in the morning he is either at the door or hears the click of the lock and is there in the swish of a tail.  Before he goes for his breakfast he heads for the door from the utility room into the garage where I touch a switch to turn off the yard
light.  It was on a timer for many years, but the timer finally wore out.  But the on-off switch is
there and works well.  So Tom butts his head against the door to go with me to the switch, running
ahead, and after the "off" produces a soft sound he runs back inside.  I pour out the kibble and he
is already up on the dryer to chomp it down.  Why not on the floor?  The ants do not climb up on the dryer.  Yes, I spray for ants, but the food draws out their descendants.  The bugs got in when the
house was being built in the fall season, and some of them continued to live on through their generations.

Monday, July 21, 2014

Tom's Internal Computer

Right now, Tom is lying on his back up against the wall in my office, his hind legs up and his paws curled.  He is white furred all the way to his legs.  I think I have mentioned before that he is very big on routine, and somehow he always knows where I am -- at least in the house.  Example:  When he first come in in the morning, he goes directly through the kitchen, utility room to the garage door which he puts down his head to butt his way through.  Then he goes just ahead of me to the front
to the switch for the yard light.  It was on a timer, but the timer wore out, and I turn it on with
the switch which does work.  After, he turns and walks, or runs, back to the door and leaps up
on the dryer to eat his breakfast.  I put his dish up to prevent ants from swarming to cat food.  Yes,
I spray for insects, but they got into the ducts when the house was being built, and their descendants
have been there ever since.

In the mornings when I get up he does not appear at the glass door.  Somehow, though, by the
time I have sipped water in the kitchen and go back to the door, there he is with his morning
greeting ready to being his day.  The thing is, I am very quiet, even in turning on the water.  How
does he know I'm up?  Does he hear the water outside the house from the water lines, or is
he psychic?  I think he has a video on his internal computer mind.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Tom's games

Tom is a psychological game player.  What makes a cat want to make up a means of having his way
over the authority of his owner?  It's like a child who has been cooperative with his parent suddenly
becoming aware that it's time to exert himself to see what he can get away with.

Tom, having formerly sat by the door when the daylight began to wane ready to go outside for the night, began to disappear.  When I discovered his hiding place, he would flee and end up under
my bed where I could not reach him.  At first, I waited until having retired myself, he jumped onto
the bed to get my attention.  Then I picked him up, scrambled out of bed with him struggling all the way to the door.  Too relaxed he got out of my arms, but I caught him by one leg and then the other
while I was trying to get the locked door open.  He won.  I ended up with a scratched hand which  really hurt.  Keeping me awake I found him again.  Again we fought, and I lost.  Getting up the third time, because I couldn't get to sleep, I saw him sitting by the door, opened it, and he went out.

After that, I thought twice (a little slow, I thought to myself) and closed off the doors to the bedroom.
Then he hid under a side table in the living room, in sight, but when He saw me looking around the corner he retreated behind the sofa where I couldn't reach him.  I had to move the sofa to get him, but was able to pick him up before he could run off, and summarily put him out. 

After that, all over again, he has retired out of my sight, but where I could see him, having cut off
his routes of escape.  Also, I have approached him with petting and soft words.  Also, I have put both arms under his forelegs and hindlegs in which they extend like a carpenter's sawhorse.  Then, I have
been putting him down at the door while I open it, and he has been going out like a good little boy.

You could say we know each other a little better.