Tom and the Soapdish

Tom shares the bathroom in the mornings as I prepare for the day.  He investigates the items on the counter by the lavatory.  The soap fascinates him.  Apparently, he likes the scent.  But it doesn't stop there.  He even tests it with his tongue, lightly of course.  Yes, cats are curious .

Helper Tom

Today, Tom is adamant about his input for this posting.  He is pawing on the side of my chair with his claws out.  Except for the Captain's Chair I'm sitting in, he would be in my lap and up on the computer desk.  However, the chair has spindles under the side arms.  I have to say, he has now given up gracefully and retired away from the room.

Tom, Sensitive to My Illness

I can't call nosebleed an illness, but it does confine one to a reclining position for a time.  Tom, ever ready to help me by lying down beside me when I rest always senses when I am down.  I can often count to ten, and he is with me before I get to ten.  I am now past the last one.

Tom's Comfort Zone

I apologize for not keeping up with my blogs due to physical treatments now over.  To resume, Tom's comfort zone is on my bed.  If I am not there, it is on my pillow -- bed made up and neat.  Otherwise, Tom is often upstairs on one of the twin beds with white lace spreads.  His dusty fur leaves a  dusty, dingy darkened spot.  However, the longer I live the more I tolerate small error to keep my days as simple and easy on me as possible.

Noble Cat Tom's Winter Antics

Severe cold, snow and icy streets and roads outside affects our behavior.  So our pets also react.
The big, strong Tom in my house has been able to go out in the evening for about four hours, but
the below freezing temps at night I do not impose on him.  He comes in when I turn out the lights.


Suddenly, for no reason he began racing through the rooms.  At first, I thought, as usual he had seen a bird or a squirrel move around the house and had run to watch from another window.  Not this time.
He did not stop but raced through the rooms several times.  He must have concluded,  "I need to exercise more." 


Another new thing happened one morning as I was going through my morning ablutions.  He sat upon the counter next to the lavatory and watched the drops fall from the dripping faucet.  Call the plumber again after the last time?  No.  He watched for a few moments, and then put out his paw trying to catch each drop.  Not satisfied with this failure, he tried to bite the drops.  I expected he would then lick the faucet for the water, but not so.  It wasn't water to him, but a game.  I wonder
how he would tell the story.


Yet another game, not so new, but a bit different.  He jumped to the edge of the bathtub between the shower curtain and the plastic sheet next to the shower and delighted himself lashing his tail against the plastic.  A cat's got to beat up something, even with his tail, to show his prowess as a fighter. 

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.

You Know This Isn't My Cheese

I didn't know cats liked cheese.  I found out Tom the Noble Cat does.  He came to me when I unwrapped a package of Dutch Garden Smoked Gouda.  I gave him a small sliver.  He took it from my fingers, ate it, and begged for more.  Since then, he shows up waiting for cheese, which I like well enough to more or less keep it in supply.  He has eaten cheddar, and I thought I had fed him Swiss.  However, last week I gave him a bit of Jarlsberg Lite Swiss.  He didn't eat it.  I though the piece was too big and broke it up.  He didn't eat it where he mostly licks it up from the floor.  So I put it into his food dish on top of his dry Friskies.  Next day, it was still there with the Friskies mostly gone.  Later in the day I passed by his dish, and the cheese was there.  When I passed almost time for his canned meat, the two little Swiss bites were carefully laid outside the dish.  Very careful of him it was.  He is mostly a bit careless with his eating enough to find bits dropped from his mouth to the floor as he eats his meals in several sessions. 


This was his silent lesson for me, "You know I prefer the kind without the holes."