Ol’ Tom lived back in the good old days and had the run of the farm and only God knows how many wooded acres. Since he was intact, he often took leaves of absence to exercise his tom-catting. Sometimes he’d be gone as much as three months, then show up skinny, battered, and exhausted for some much needed rest and relaxation. With his tattered ears and many scars, he wasn’t handsome but it didn’t seem to effect his social life.

Tom and the dogs ignored each other except at feeding time. Daddy had several dogs and dispensed food in several receptacles to prevent fighting. I don’t mean dishes, I mean old hubcaps, old pots and pans, or bucket lids. Daddy made the dogs stand back till all the dishes were filled, then gave the signal “Ok!” The ravenous dogs fell to eating and never left a scrap.

Tom took command when he was home. Once the “ dog dishes” were filled, he took his pick. The older, wiser dogs stepped back till Ol’ Tom had his fill. A foolish dog might threaten him, once. Tom would calmly reach out and hook the dog’s tender nose, holding the poor animal captive at paw’s length till he ate his fill. At Tom’s convenience, he’d retract the claw and saunter off. It never took a dog but one lesson to respect Tom.