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, October 13, 2015

Tomcats Lose

Tomcats, even the aggressive kind, sometimes lose the fight.  Here is what happened to my first Tom, the light yellow cat, unaltered.  He was a fighter who came home after two weeks awol with battle scars, marching triumphantly up the drive "mrowing" in cadence with his steps.  Remember, this Tom was my first pet, so I was between 6 and 10 years old.  We had left the house on a summer evening while it was still sunny.  There were crawdad holes in the yard, the inch and a half in diameter hole with the muddy diggings piled up on the ground.


When we arrived home, our neighbor came over with the news.  He had rescued Tom after hearing him set up a mighty howling.  He followed the noise and there was Tom with the crawdad from the hole clamped to Tom's upper lip.  Tom was known to paw down into things he couldn't see, and, perhaps, he had brought up the crustacean who fought back and pinched Tom as he tried to bite his catch. 


Tom never again caught a crawdad.  If you eat them, you may call them crayfish.  If in a muddy hole in the ground, they are just crawdads.  Cats are smart.  They learn more than it is acknowledged by those who don't understand them.

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