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.

Friday, January 23, 2015

Tom's "My Day"

I, Tom, the common tabby but a noble cat, began my day by posting myself at the back door where I
see into the house I belong to.  She was a little late this morning.  The sun was up and above the
horizon, before she came past.  I pretended not to see her, but I heard her in the kitchen turning on
water which begins her day.  She keeps the shades over her windows at night, so that I don't see her
getting out of bed.


I am watching when she approaches the door to let me in.  Then I move directly to the door to the garage and to the light switch where she follows me to click it each morning.  Back inside, I hear her get out the food sack for my breakfast dry menu.  I love the crunch of that good stuff. 


She leaves me alone then  and works over the bed she sleeps in,  The soft blanket is on the floor where I delight in flexing my toes in the soft feel of it.  Drat! She tells me to get off.  "I need the blanket," she says.  She puts it on the bed, along with another cover.  When she finished, I jumped up onto the pillows that match the top cover.  It feels so good; yet when she sees me she tells me to get off.  I pretend not to hear.  I actually have to endure a lecture about it, but I'd rather not hear it, so I hopped off.  Well, I found another nice warm, sunny spot on the floor.  It's not to bad, but nothing like the blanket or the pillow. 


I have been with her now so long I believe I deserve the same comforts she indulges in, herself.  Just when I think I have been accepted with the same privileges she has, she gives me pushes and lectures.
Is that any kind of life the king of the cats should have?  After all, I am royalty intended for my subjects to treat me with  the greatest respect. 


I will make her give me her full attention and pet me more than along my back and tail.  I will have nothing less than my jaws, my chin, and my head rubbed.  What does it matter if a little drool gets on her lap, or her fingers get wet from rubbing my jaws?


My friends, we must persist in making our house owners conform to our greatest comfort.

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