a tom tale
hallo,
I first created this blog with wild ideas about writing about dear Thomas Cat and the goings on of my life, but then I couldn't think of anything to write or any interesting way in which to present these goings on. Today, I feel inspired (along with a bout of procrastination and frustration at actually wanting to do my readings for today and not being able to locate the book in any library) to write a bit about dear Tom.
I shall start with a bit of Tom/Talibah History.
When I first moved to S. House (as I will affectionately refer to it) last March (ahh, it's been so long) I was not a cat lover - dogs - for sure I like dogs, but cats?.... not so much.... reason being that I consider cats to be too much like women (sorry for those women out there who mind this vast stereotype - but being a woman myself - well girl, I consider myself allowed to make such statements) - too temperamental (though there are temperamental men out there - I know, I've met a few), and cats are so funny and independent and demanding. and Tom, is no exception (but he's cute which is perhaps why I like him so). When I moved in it took over 2 months for us to settle our respective places (him master - me initially unwilling servant): he'd scratch and bite and throw mean looks and wouldn't let me pet him (not like I often tried - him being such a cantankerous cat). then, eventually, somehow - we kind of formed a relationship - I gave him food whenever I came downstairs, he left me alone. this all changed when I moved downstairs into K's old room (his "owner"). He constantly came in, demanding to be allowed to sniff every corner and investigate to see whether I had decorated to his fancy, and when I was in a bunk bed he'd bother until he could receive purchase, and there he would stay. I think moving my bed in (a low bed) was the real turning point of our relationship - a bed he could reach, in a warm, quiet room (the advantages of having the smallest room in the house mean that it's also the only warm room in the winter) and a light sleeper whom he could awaken all hours in the night. And so began our (affair? I can't think of a better word - especially since it involves Tom beating down my door so he can sleep in my bed) relationship.
ok, enough history - I must be off to lunch (mmm peanut butter - it's the new cereal).
I first created this blog with wild ideas about writing about dear Thomas Cat and the goings on of my life, but then I couldn't think of anything to write or any interesting way in which to present these goings on. Today, I feel inspired (along with a bout of procrastination and frustration at actually wanting to do my readings for today and not being able to locate the book in any library) to write a bit about dear Tom.
I shall start with a bit of Tom/Talibah History.
When I first moved to S. House (as I will affectionately refer to it) last March (ahh, it's been so long) I was not a cat lover - dogs - for sure I like dogs, but cats?.... not so much.... reason being that I consider cats to be too much like women (sorry for those women out there who mind this vast stereotype - but being a woman myself - well girl, I consider myself allowed to make such statements) - too temperamental (though there are temperamental men out there - I know, I've met a few), and cats are so funny and independent and demanding. and Tom, is no exception (but he's cute which is perhaps why I like him so). When I moved in it took over 2 months for us to settle our respective places (him master - me initially unwilling servant): he'd scratch and bite and throw mean looks and wouldn't let me pet him (not like I often tried - him being such a cantankerous cat). then, eventually, somehow - we kind of formed a relationship - I gave him food whenever I came downstairs, he left me alone. this all changed when I moved downstairs into K's old room (his "owner"). He constantly came in, demanding to be allowed to sniff every corner and investigate to see whether I had decorated to his fancy, and when I was in a bunk bed he'd bother until he could receive purchase, and there he would stay. I think moving my bed in (a low bed) was the real turning point of our relationship - a bed he could reach, in a warm, quiet room (the advantages of having the smallest room in the house mean that it's also the only warm room in the winter) and a light sleeper whom he could awaken all hours in the night. And so began our (affair? I can't think of a better word - especially since it involves Tom beating down my door so he can sleep in my bed) relationship.
ok, enough history - I must be off to lunch (mmm peanut butter - it's the new cereal).
posted by Tulip @ 9:28 AM
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