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.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

New Game for Tom and Fun Drumming

 A long. cold February.  We all suffered a degree of cabin fever; no less did Tom, the Noble Cat.\
He became rather feisty at times, and attacked a drippi9ng fawcett.  While I make my ablutions for the day in my bathroom with the wall mirror, Tom at times leaps upon the counter to open a cabinet
door.  Well, the fawcett does have a steady drip.  An inveterate game player (usually at my expense) he tried to catch the falling drop with his paw.  No touching the water didn't put him off  Failing to
catch the unruly object, he did the next best thing.  He bit it with his mouth.  No, he didn't swallow
it or put his tongue on the end of the fawcett to swallow the drops.  It was like a small, bouncing ball to him.  Another morning, after exhausting that game, he jumped on the edge of the bathtub between the shower curtain and the inside plastic shower protection.  His strong tail then proceeded to beat a rhythm against the plastic layer.  I should name him Tom, the drummer.
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