Thomas, The Cat

My Dad was a farmer all his life. He connected with the land and with the animals that he raised as his business. My love for animals came from my Dad. I look back at his life and realize that he was raising animals for food, but he also cared about them.

All animals on the farm, however, had to have a purpose. Dogs were meant to be protectors of the homestead and were expected to be helpful (and not a hindrance) with livestock. Cats were necessary for keeping the rodent populations down around farm buildings. Population control of cats was not needed as it seemed to occur naturally. Neither cats nor dogs were allowed in the farmhouse, but their lives were made as comfortable as possible on porches or in barns.

Thomas was the first cat, however, that owned my Dad. Thomas was a big striped yellow tabby. He wasn’t as big when my Dad first discovered him hiding in a rusted-out wagon that was partially covered by some metal siding unevenly slung over the top. Hay scraps provided some cushioning on the wooden floor. Dad tried to coax out the spitting young feline, but Thomas wanted nothing to do with my Dad. He ran off when Dad got too close.

Two days later, Dad surprised the feral cat who was back in the wagon snoozing. On Dad’s next trip to town, he bought a small bag of cheap cat food and put a plastic dish at the end of the wagon where the cat came to hide and rest. A day later, the dish was empty. The regular feeding began as did the time spent trying to cajole the cat to come closer.

The wild cat was a tomcat, so Dad uncreatively named him Thomas. After a couple weeks, Thomas wandered closer when Dad left the food. My Dad’s quiet gentle voice eventually encouraged Thomas to relax enough for a quick stroke on the head. A few days later, Thomas was waiting in the wagon every evening for Dad to come by and give him a few pats before leaving the food. Within another month, Thomas started following Dad around the farmstead. Whenever my Mom appeared or anyone else came too close, Thomas ran to hide. It was not uncommon to see my Dad walking through the alfalfa field on his way up the hill to feed his stock cows and see a striped, yellow tail following behind him.

Thomas seemed to adore Dad but would also take off on his own for periods of 2-3 days. After all, he was a tomcat. Dad would worry but Thomas always returned from his outings and seemed eagerly grateful to have affection and street food. My sister suggested that if Thomas were neutered, perhaps he would not stray as often. My Dad thought that was a ridiculous thing to spend money on. Besides, Thomas was a tomcat, and his gender identity should not be deterred. One day my sister caught Thomas and took him to the vet. My Dad was not happy, but it was done. Unfortunately, the procedure did not seem to change Thomas’s wandering ways.

Dad secured Thomas a permanent refuge in his shop. He had an old wooden peach crate with a cushy blue blanket snuggled into it. The haven faced the south window where the sun streamed in and Thomas could survey the fields without moving. He was king of the shop and the adjoining shed where nary a mouse nor rat dared set up habitation.

For the next two years, Thomas was Dad’s constant companion, at least when in residence. He would sit outside the house most mornings awaiting his breakfast and the help he would give Dad in feeding the cows. Thomas wandered sometimes but always returned after a day of absence.

A time came, however, when Thomas did not return after two days. The winter was coming on and it was getting cold. Dad walked all over his acreage and his neighbors’ fence rows looking and calling for Thomas. He talked to everyone he could in the neighborhood about whether they had seen a big yellow tabby tomcat. With each first morning light, Dad looked outside to see if Thomas was at the door. Two weeks went by, and then three weeks, and the first snowstorm happened. As Christmas approached, it seemed evident that Thomas was not coming home.

Thomas was Dad’s last cat. He and Mom moved to an independent living residence several months later. No pets were allowed.