ABOUT ME

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.

WELCOME

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.

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.

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