With his asthma and bowels under the control of prednisalone and his heart condition not serious enough to require medical intervention, Thomas was fit and healthy and the joyous years began.

I was blessed in Thomas. He was the gentlest and most loving cat you could ever hope to meet. Although extremely friendly and always pleased to see me, at first, Thomas rarely came downstairs. Also, for some reason, he would run and hide if you took a deep breath or sighed. Fortunately, he quickly got over that horror, but throughout his life, the sound of cutlery or crockery (unless he was eating fish at the time) has always had the power to make him flee upstairs. Another trait that has been captured in poetry (Special Needs Cat - Click here)

Never much of a climber, Thomas never ventured out of the garden for which I considered myself very lucky. Deaths on the roads being so prevalent with cats. He only snook past me once and got shut out the front. I could hear faint crying and searched the house for him. Finally, I looked out of the upstairs window and there he was, crouched under my neighbour's car, wailing for all he was worth. I hurried downstairs and opened the front door to be met with a white flash and the sound of feet thundering up the stairs. That was Thomas’s greatest excursion.

The dreaded cat flap
Thomas had always been a rather challenged cat where learning something new was concerned and never more so than when faced with a cat flap. Initial training was very hard and resulted in the consumption of so much fish as bait and reward that I began to worry that I needed a bigger portal. The flap wasn't easy to learn as the door opened onto a step, making the initial drop rather a long one. Thomas's first technique was to push through the door, twist sideways and precipitate down the steps on his head. However, his technique did eventually improve and he became quite an adept.

Thomas goes hunting.
Thomas has had his hunting skills compared to the grace and agility of a coiled duvet. His initial approach to hunting was to frolic down the middle of the lawn and wonder why all the birds flew away. He then honed his hunting skills so rather than frolicking, he instead stalked down the middle of the lawn. Moving when the birds weren’t looking and stopping when they were. I sometimes witnessed Thomas practically keeling over with muscle fatigue as the birds calmly observed him.
One of his greatest joys was chasing the squirrel. The squirrel gave him a good run for his kit bits and many a time were they seen in high-speed chases. Then one day the squirrel turned, ran straight at Thomas and jumped over his head. Thomas was terrified and bolted back into the house and thundered up the stairs. Henceforth he was content to watch the squirrel from the safety of the upstairs windowsill.
The birds came to lose all respect for Thomas as a hunter. Often they would be squabbling on the bird table while Thomas sat below with his mouth open in vain hope. One day, as he was sunning himself on the patio and 5 young starlings were romping in the flowerbeds, I decided to have words with him.
‘Thomas, you shouldn’t let them get away with it. They think cats aren’t a threat, you need to give them a scare just to let them know.’ Thomas looked at me thoughtfully, then raced away, clouted one of the young starlings and jumped on him. I was so shocked, I nearly spilt my tea!
‘No, No, I didn’t mean it!’ I cried as I sprinted after him. Uncertain what to do now, Thomas let the bird go and it flew off older and wiser. He did rack up a few kills though. A juvenile Robin, Blue Tit and a mouse. He also released unharmed a young blue tit and surprised and delighted me one day with a frog. Both were captured and released safely.
Once, on my return from holiday I was told that he’d killed an adult Blackbird and a young Starling, I’m afraid I was incredulous and to this day I believe that another cat was hunting in the garden and Thomas was bringing home the trophies. This too has been captured in poetry (Click here)

Thomas goes climbing.
Thomas must be the only cat afraid of heights. Thomas’s greatest adventure in the home was to get up onto the dining room chair, then onto the dining room table, then onto the breakfast bar where he feasted on the fish in a saucepan which I had hurriedly put down when the phone rang. I had been cooking it for him, but was nevertheless astonished at his audacity. His favourite place was the windowsill in the spare bedroom, which he scaled via the study chair. It afforded a good view of the garden and caught the sun quite delightfully, being a South facing window.

Cuddle tax
Thomas was a cat who needed to be cuddled. He was cuddled at great length, but sometimes, life gets busy and a cuddle quota falling below half an hour in one day would result in the dreaded cuddle tax. At 3:00.am in the morning, a paw gently but firmly and repeatedly inserted into your ear would indicate that quotas were below standard and petting and cooing must now be commenced or there'd be no sleep in the house that night.

The comforter
Thomas always slept with me, on my legs, chest or my stomach. Sometimes he'd snuggle up under my chin and I'd wake up to find myself wearing him like a beard. Sometimes he would find a gap in the bedclothes and slip into bed beside me and cuddle against my chest. Finally, he'd reach roasting point and then I'd enjoy the feeling of his warm little body brushing past my face as he exited. Since I was single when I got Thomas, his company at night was most appreciated and he was a great comfort.