My last two posts failed to get published, so I begin again.  When I was six years old I received my first pet, a cat named Tom.  I had wanted a white cat like the one mentioned in the Peter Rabbit story, but my parents did the best they could and found a pale yellow adult x.  Cats were acquired when a mama cat had kittens, or a stray was found.  Tom was a stray who wandered into my dad's mill where he kept other cats to eliminate the mice.  And he fed them, as well.  At that time, males were not altered, and Tom behaved like a Tom cat. 


I will mention one or two of his adventures.  He loved salmon and always received the scraps in the can of red sockeye.  He didn't push his face into the can, but used his paw to pick up the scraps.  He learned to sit on the kitchen stool when in the house and avoid the wrath of my mother who didn't really approve of cats in the house.  It was there my dad taught this cat to lift up his right paw and shake hands like a gentleman. 
One time Tom did something that really upset my mother and she chase him out with a broom.  The next morning he turned up at the mill, about a mile from home.  It was just a small town.  From then on he would take up residence at our house or at the mill. 


As I said, he was a natural tomcat, and in season he would disappear for a couple of weeks and then return home.  He never failed to announce his return with low murrrr-ows in cadence as he marched up the driveway.  I remember one time he came back thin, scratched, a tooth hanging and was very happy to be fed and petted again.  He was very patient with this little girl who used to hang him around her neck to wear as a furpiece.  Speaking of fur, my mother had worn in her single days a fox neckpiece which had the fox's head on it.  Apparently she couldn't bear to throw it away, although she never wore it.  It remained in the hall closet until my parents moved to another town, and the house was sold.  I guess I used to push the fox fur at Tom, and there was enough fox still in it that he hissed
at it. 
Also in the closet was a small bed made by a neighbor as a Christmas present along with a little chest for my dolls.  My parents always made sure the cat was put out before bedtime, and I had to do it.
One night I looked inn all the rooms for Tom but didn't find him.  At last I looked in the closets, and there in the hall closet was Tom peacefully asleep inn the doll bed.  He looked up at me with such satisfaction I couldn't bear to take him out of the bed.  But my parents were authoritative.