Article July 23, 1979 Issue

Tommy's grateful purr

Olive Catherine Cromwell

Tommy was a beautiful gray cat. When he was only a few weeks old, he came to live with Kay, June, and Donald, and they all loved him right away. His favorite games were chasing a little red ball all over the floor and jumping at their bare feet. He had been trained to go to each one of them to play for a few minutes every night when the children were in bed. Then he would jump from their beds and spend the rest of the night peacefully sleeping in the living room.

One day Tommy had been walking in the warm sunshine around the ranch house and over the pastureland. It was fun to chase the grasshoppers. They would buzz and fly as he touched them. This time he wandered farther away from the house than usual. He was having such fun chasing bugs and bees. Suddenly he touched something different. It glided along the ground. It was a long kind of something Tommy had never seen before. It struck at him, and he limped back to the house.

Kay, then nine, saw him coming back. "Mother!" she said, as she opened the door and took him in her arms. "Tommy is limping, and he has two marks that look like bites on his tail. I am going to take him to my room and pray to God for him."

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