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.

Friday, November 13, 2015

No Trespassing

The air suddenly filled with an eerie sound -- a higher pitched howl than a growl, but coming from a growling throat.  Tom sprang from the chair with the soft, fake-fur throw to the bed below the window.  He reared up on his hind legs to look out the window.  I followed his gaze.  On the high
board fence separating my property from that of my neighbor was a cat with a collar.  Tom had yet
to be influenced by a nearby cat, except outside where he was most likely to retreat before a strange
cat.  He jumped up to the window sill to make his presence authoritative.

Tom repeated the howl over and over, his altered voice still affecting his speech.  The cat on the fence didn't look in his direction through the window.  Why did this cat excite such a menacing response in the cool-cat personality which is Tom.  My impression was that the fence cat was a female, not that such has ever had any real affect on my altered Tom.  Yet in some ways she resembled Tom, but with much more white fur.  In fact, she was white with several small patches of striped fur of the same color as Tom's mostly striped head and back.  Only his chest and underbelly are white. 

Did he regard this feline as a relative that hadn't acknowledge his territory?  Or was this a sudden and very emotional warning to the marauder?  Stay off my space.  Can't you tell it is NO TRESPASSING here?

Friday, November 6, 2015

My Daugher's "Tom"

I have written much about the Tom I have adopted from my younger daughter after her divorce and her need to establish a new life.  That was seven years ago, and Tom is thoroughly my cat, demanding all the rights of affection from my, as well as, food, water, rights to all my domicile offers.

But  when we moved into the house I now inhabit when my children were children, my first daughter found a black cat that followed her up from a creek that ran back of our house.  She had to leave her
cat behind in Illinois when we moved here, so she welcomed and fed the long-hair 't feline who was so friendly.  He had been  someone's pet and needed a new home.  Sadly, in this neighborhood, when people moved away they left behind their pets to find for themselves.  So we had a willing tomcat and mistress. 

In the second grade she wrote lovingly of him as an elegant cat -- Tom, named by her father, a farm boy who considered all animals must earn their keep by being useful.  He wasn't used to cat being anything but catching mice in the barn.  So, as she continued to write her essay, "Dad calls him that fleabag, etc. and etc.

However, Tom did contribute to the general welfare of our family.  The housing plat had taken over a field on the edge of habitation which was not yet filled in as a residential area.  The field was rich with field mice and possums, skunks, squirrels and bluebirds and meadowlarks, long since vanished, except for the squirrels and rabbits and the occasional possum.  I also hear ducks downstream from the natural creek that has become a city-widened drainage system.  Tom often caught large field mice and brought them to the back door, proclaiming loudly his gift.  Not to mention his pride in the catch.
Of course, we praised and petted Tom for his thoughtfulness.

Tom was a loved pet by all the children, combed and fed by his mistress. 

To continue a rather long history of this Tom, his life was at risk one time.  A neighbor came racing by trying to catch her boxer pet.  Just as the dog past, Tom on the hood of a car in our drive jumped on the dog's back.  When the large dog got near the telephone pole at the very back o property, the cat jumped up onn the new pole with a new coat of creosote.  What should have been a \successful retreat turned into a cat's worst nightmare.  The dogs teeth ripped open his belly.  He
made it on up the pole as only a cat could.  The owner got hold of the boxer, but I could see a red line un Ton's underside.  He was able to come down the pole, and was taken immediately to the
neighborhood vet who stitched him up.  Thankfully the rip had only penetrated the outer skin.  The stomach lining held intact.

Pet ownership can be exciting.  Nevertheless, guard your pets

Afterthought:  this girl still has two cats and a dog and lives on a small acreage.  All these are friendly and love to be petted.  Her daughter also had four cats at one time, until one died.