To be or not to be - A Tom Cat

Last winter I introduced a gray feral striped cat to you in an article I called Should I Call That Feral Cat Tom or Tomasina. After he decided to trust me and come in the house to live, I found out he was definitely a Tom

 All my other eight male cats, and three females are neutered or spayed, as were a great many others that I lost to coyotes before my dog Smokey Joe and I learned to herd cats. Tiger Tom has been a house cat now for over seven months, and I still have not taken him for that defining operation. It is partly because all my spare money has been going toward other more necessary things involving the care of Daughter Jane’s and my animals. So Tom is still a macho tomcat in good standing.

 Tiger Tom is the most intelligent and reasonable cat I have shared a house with, but he doesn’t get along with Black Mack, the other very macho cat that came from the junk yard that is called “The Truck Museum”. You might say he was a ‘junkyard cat’.

I got Mack before he was even one year old because he was spraying the inside of the open-windowed cars of visitor’s to the museum. He was so muscular and fearsome looking, he could have been a model for a cartoon alley cat. His front end looked to be two sizes bigger than his back end. Head on, he looked like a bulldog ready for a fight. Now, six years after he came to live with me, he is a normal sized cat, although you can tell he is much more muscular and wiry when you pick him up. He has learned how to play with the other cats, but they are still wary of him, and always ready to run when they are around him.

 Tiger Tom came to know my cats when he was still wild, lurking on top of my trailer or up in the big oak trees, and he must have made an assessment. When he came into the house to live, he was immediately tolerant of all the other seven male cats, but seven months later he still sometimes chases Black Mack up the tree in case Mack decides to revert to his belligerent ways. I have observed some small interaction between them that makes me believe they may someday become playmates.

Gradually, when all the male cats are outside being guarded by Smokey Joe, Tiger Tom joins in chase games, and he follows the other cats when they are following me as I take laps around the oak trees for exercise. For a muscular, full-powered tomcat, he is remarkably passive. He has even learned to use the cat box inside, and no longer feels the urge to christen the curtains and walls – thanks to Tiger Tom’s good nature, and a little bottle of stuff I spray around that is guaranteed to stop such behavior.

The boss cat in this household is really Buddy, my beautiful long-haired, light orange tabby. It is not because of Buddy’s size, age, or a bossy nature, it is his self confidence and regal bearing. Apparently he is certain that he has the final say in all cat activities around here. In any cat disagreements he rushes to the scene, and stares at the culprits. They take a look at him, and walk away. Buddy also has first dibbs on my lap, or the cozy corner at the right of my pillow at night. Tom, too, prefers to sit on my lap, but he backs off for Buddy, and settles for the end of my recliner when it is in reclining position. About an hour ago, they were both with me in the chair, and Buddy started alternately chewing and licking Tom’s tail. Tom just looked at Buddy, and turned his head back to me for more scratching and petting. Good! I don’t need a catfight on my lap.

Poor Mack no longer feels safe to roam around inside, but stays in the bedroom area. I let him out in the morning through an unscreened, louvered window, and carry him inside at dusk past the feared Tiger Tom, who seems to accept the division of inside territory. But I don’t trust this truce enough to leave them both inside together when I go away. Because they are both survivors of wild places, I risk the welfare of one of them by leaving him outside until I get home to referee. There are many places outside in sheds, in trees or in boxes under the trailer where a coyote can’t get them if they are smart enough to stay close to home.

My problem is whether to get Tiger Tom neutered or not. His agreeable disposition, and good house manners don’t seem to require it. But that old urge to procreate is still going to be there unless I get him neutered. The folks who lived up near the entrance to this park had a female cat whose litter of kittens a month ago looked remarkably like Tiger Tom. They moved away last week to a new house on the reservation at least ten miles away. Every other house within a mile or more of me has a pack of dogs guarding it. I doubt if a cat could survive at any of those places. Many of the dogs are pit bulls, part pit or Rottweilers, all fighting dogs who are death on cats. If Tom were determined to find a female to mate with, he would be unlikely to survive the gauntlet of coyotes, or the packs of vicious dogs he might meet.

Therefore I think I must get Tiger Tom neutered to preserve his chance to stau alive in this wild country. And I’d better have it done sooner than later because mating time is near. Poor Tom. I hope he doesn’t hate me and lose his placid nature.