A couple days ago the house cat tomcat Trouble ate like he hadn't eaten for many days. He gobbled like a junkyard dog at the end of its chain in good chow.

Today? He grazed his breakfast and just stared when I laid out a premium lunch. He didn't come over for a sniff - he let his mother and sister eat while he flopped off for an afternoon of sleep.

Trouble was the big mummy in a litter of four out of a small mother. He got neutered before he was 6 months of age but this guy was destined to be huge. Off a short gallop he leaps almost 8 feet in the air to land on the bride's cabinets in the living room. He loves to be roughed up, buried under blankets for rubbings and walks around the house with his tail straight up in the air (catspeak for confidence, happiness and joy).

But he doesn't eat much and that's why he's long and lean with a belly that has nothing to it. I think he might have lasted a long time time as a feral tom but I'm thrilled he never had a chance to live that way. He's a sweet huge gentle cat creature to have sleeping nearby. On the nights now and again when he's sleeping on my bed he makes room for me when I go for the nightly nap and crashes with happiness by my feet. I might pet him in the dark and he'll stretch and sigh.

And I've had dogs all my life until the momcat showed up for handouts.