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, December 18, 2014


My daughter rescued a black Persian soon after we moved to Oklahoma.  In a new neighborhood people used to be transferred to other cities in their jobs leaving their pets behind to fend for themselves.  There is a natural creek behind our house.  Animals and humankind make use of it to this day.  The exploring Persian came into the yard when No. 1 daughter came home from school.  She fed him, and he immediately adopted her.  She had to leave her former cat, Shade, in the animal shelter, so she was wide open for a new cat. 

Her dad named the cat, Tom, using no imagination, and he was the second Tom in my life, too.  Tom was a very real contributor to family life.  The area being right next to open country, he took advantage of the rodents who roamed the fields.  He came and went through a partially opened garage door at night, and by morning left at the back door toward the kitchen his best gifts of big, fat mice from the fields.  He also announced his approach as would a hunter with a trumpet -- substituting loud m'rows.  Tom lived several years lovingly cared for by daughter, who combed his long fur to keep him looking his best.  He was most friendly and missed, until he was replace with a mixed color female my son named Grindl after a story character.