Tom

I was going through my tea cabinet today, and came across my Mexican Sweet Chili herbal tea, from Yogi Tea. It contains, among other things, cayenne and black pepper. These are the last ingredients listed, so they're used in the least amounts, and truthfully I can hardly taste them. But they do give the tea a little "bite". The first ingredient is licorice root, and the licorice taste is distinct. It's one of my favorite herbal teas.

My mug is a tall, thin one, covered with pink roses. It was a gift from my favorite aunt and good friend, Georgia. When I use it, I always think of her, and all thoughts of her are pleasant. I love her and her husband, Uncle Ed.

Today's quote: "All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope." – Winston Churchill.

Tom came to us when my daughter Tara and her children moved back to Ohio from Georgia in 2001. They stayed with my mother until they could get a place of their own, and since Mom is not an animal person, we got Tom.

Tom was born in an apartment, and we kept him inside because he had no front claws, but he tried to get out every time the door opened. On occasion he would manage a jailbreak, but he never got past the bushes by the door. We figured he heard the call of the wild, but couldn't speak the language.

Things happened, and it was several years before Tara and her children acquired a house where they could keep pets, and Austin, my grandson, wanted "his" cat back. It was hard, but I couldn't tell him no. They packed up Tom one day and off they went.

It was about then that our younger daughter, Amber, called. Their apartment complex had changed hands and the new owners wouldn't allow animals larger than twenty pounds. Their dog Sally Mae was over seventy pounds. Could we take her until they found a new place? Of course we could.

That's how Sallie Mae came to live with us. And she settled in quickly, though she missed her other family and always got excited when they visited. But it didn't take her long to get used to the freedom of a fenced back yard that she could spend hours exploring. She especially loved lying out by the pool in the early morning sun.

While Sally was thriving in her new home, Tom was languishing in his. Suddenly the little family that had to give up their one pet had plenty of room, and before long they also owned a dog, two ferrets, and two more cats. Tom had a hard time dealing with all the noise from so many people and pets, and never quite adjusted to the large menagerie.

One day he got out, and they didn't find him for three days. Tara called and asked if we wanted him back—he just wasn't happy. I sighed and said, "Yeah, we can take him back," but inwardly I was going, "YESSS!" I had missed him.

For two weeks after they brought him back he stayed in the basement and wouldn't come near us. We left him alone, figuring he would rejoin us in his own time. Then one day he just appeared upstairs, and it was as if he had never left.

Life fell back into its same pattern, Tom trying to get out every time we opened a door, and Bill and I running interference. He seemed to resent the fact that Sally came and went, but he was house-bound. Then one day as I opened the door, I saw him preparing to make a run for it. I opened the door wide and said, "Okay, it seems to be really important to you, so go on out."

Bill said, "What if he doesn't come back?"

"I think he will. But he's not happy. And I want him to be happy."

At first Tom didn't make any attempt to go out. He just looked up at me, as if trying to decide if I was serious or it was a bad joke. Suddenly he lunged for the door, maybe deciding to go before I changed my mind. I watched him go, and then stood by the door to see what he would do.

He got to the end of the deck and hesitated before finally trotting out to the middle of the yard. It must have been too scary, because he immediately ran back to the door and started scratching at it. I opened it and he ran in and zoomed into the living room and disappeared behind the couch. I shook my head and went into the kitchen to start dinner.

A few minutes later I heard Tom meowing at the door. I went in and opened it and he inched toward it, and finally lumbered out. This time he went to the middle of the yard and actually stood there for a few minutes before coming back and scratching at the door.

Over the next few hours he repeated this process a dozen times, each time becoming a little bit bolder when he got outside. By the time night fell, he was ready for bed, and so was I. It had been a long, grueling day.

After that he came and went as he pleased, just like Sally Mae, and it pleased him a lot to "went". And he became more affectionate toward me. He would curl up beside me on the couch sometimes, which he had never done before.

He slept downstairs at night, and one morning in early November 2009 when he came up we looked at him and Bill said, "There's something wrong with that cat." He was right. Tom was all swollen around his head, neck, shoulders, and front legs.

I bundled him up and took him to the vet. I love my vet. She is so knowledgeable, and she's great with animals. She diagnosed Tom with a blood disease. She gave him a couple of shots and sent us home with several bottles of pills, and hope.

A couple of weeks later, Tom took a turn for the worse. He dragged around the house, looking miserable. At one point I picked him up to love him and noticed he had litter glued to his paws. Anyone who knows cats knows they keep themselves clean, and when I saw the litter on his paws, my heart sunk into my stomach. I knew it was bad.

I was supposed to get my granddaughter Celeste off the school bus that afternoon, and shortly before she was due I decided Tom really needed to see the vet. I called and they said to bring him in as soon as possible. So I put him in his carrier and put him in the car and as soon as the school bus pulled away Celeste, Tom, and I headed out.

When we got to the vet, she looked at him and said, "I was afraid of this." She examined him and, in a very sad voice said, "He's suffering, and there's no chance he will get better. What do you want to do?"

These things are never easy, and I didn't want to have to answer her. But the decision was made, and poor Tom was put down. Celeste and I cried all the way home, and I cried for weeks. I still cry when I think about him.

And then Zacc, who I blogged about yesterday, came to us. He didn't replace Tom, but he's part of the family now. I like to picture Tom and Sallie romping around Heaven together, much as they did the back yard, and that the angels love them as much as I did.

As usual, have a great day, and God bless you and yours.