Tom's New Discovery

I have submitted more blogs than appear since February this year.
However, here is my latest, and I will try to rewrite the ones I remember .


Tom, the feline friend who keeps track of my every move. joins me in the morning while I begin
the day with a shower, dressing, and make up.  Sometimes he investigates what I have on the
counter, opens the cabinet door atop the counter and may either sniff inside or go in, circle around and come out.  Then he crosses the counter to the other end where a bar of facial soap lies in the
soap dish.  He has been nosing into it, and apparently likes the smell.  It is an olive oil based soft
soap and has a pleasing odor, unlike perfume, but most enjoyable to me.  Tom likes it so much, that
now he has rubbed his face in it.  Than -- can you believe this -- he has turned the other side of his
face and rubbed that side onto the soap also. 


I have to appreciate his sense of smell.


Now, somehow it didn't get onto the blog, but Tom has been playing psychological games for the
last two weeks.


He used to sit by the door when it was almost totally dark expecting me to let him out.  Now, he
seeks to challenge my authority as his owner and provider.  He disappears before that time to go
out.  I usually find him and flush him out from under furniture or behind chairs and sofas.  He may
run off to finish off the food left in his dish.  This I allow, but if I don't follow up at that time, he
takes off again to hide away somewhere.  I close off the bedroom door, so he can't hide under
the king size bed where I can't reach him.  I have learned to take hold of him by his forelegs and
dance him to the door, hold him there while I open the door.  By that time he is usually ready to go
out.


My daughter, his former owner has been with me now for two nights, and he has taken advantage
 of the circumstance.  Last night he fled under the wide bed before I could close off the room.
I lay down to sleep.  Of course, when I was beginning to drift I felt a light touch of a tongue on my
middle finger.  I didn't move.  Again was the touch.  I opened my eyes to see Tom sitting quietly looking at me.  When I moved, he went into the kitchen in the dark.  His food dish had been
removed from its place on the floor to prevent entrance by roaches.  Then he went into the
room and sat down across from the patio door.  We looked at each other after I got a loght on
and the door unlocked.  At last, I had to try to get to him, but he fled again and dashed up the
stairs, but apparently, avoided going into my daughter's room. 


I returned to try to sleep, but stirred up, it took some time to quiet down again.  Then I hear a
single meow.  He had positioned himself above my head.  This time on my knees I seized his
forelegs, boosted him onto a chair while I got to my feet.  Then I marched him to the door, got
it unlocked again, and pushed his rear end out.


With the lost sleep, I find my patience short today.  But I am still Barbara Lockett, Author.Amazon, author page Barbara Lockett, The Hidden City