Tuxie stops scolding.

April 22, 2015 by  
Filed under New Posts, True AC Tales

T.A.C.T –True Animal Communication Tales

by Nedda Wittels
© April, 2015

tuxedo catTuxedo cat

Why does my cat scold me when I come home?

One of my first Animal Communication cases was solved by teaching my client a way to communicate with her own animal.

My client, whom I’ll call Lisa, was a semi-retirement computer software documentor, working 4 days a week.  Every few Fridays, she and a friend would go off for a 3-day weekend to rose festivals because they loved roses.

Lisa lived with her cat, Tuxie, in a house in a small town.  When Lisa began going away for long weekends, her cat, Tuxie, would greet her on her return by “scolding” her, refusing to sit on her lap, and refusing to sleep with Lisa that night.  Lisa didn’t understand what was happening.

I asked Lisa to explain the arrangements she made for Tuxie for the times she was away.  She told me that everything was taken care of by a neighbor – fresh food and water, litter box cleaned.  The neighbor would even brush Tuxie, if the cat was willing, as Tuxie knew the neighbor well.

Since my client and I were both working at the same computer software company, I suggested she try something on her own before I talked with Tuxie.

“From Tuxie’s perspective,” I told Lisa, “you suddenly leave – disappear – and she has no idea what’s going on, whether or not you’ll return, and what arrangements, if any, you’ve made for her care.

“Your cat is telepathic.  Even if you think you’re not telepathic, animals who live with us can tune into our thoughts and feelings.  If you say your cat’s name out loud, she’ll pay attention to whatever you say next and pick up the images, concepts, and emotions you’re expressing.  So here’s what I recommend.

“Sit down with Tuxie a few days before your next trip and explain everything to her just like you might tell a human who lives with you. 

“Tell Tuxie your plans.

  • when you plan to leave;
  • when you plan to return,
  • who’s going with you;
  • where you’re going;
  • why you’re going; and
  • most importantly, the arrangements you’ve made for Tuxie’s care while you’re gone.

“Try this and let me know what happens.”

Lisa protested.  “What will my neighbors think?” she asked me.

“Don’t talk to Tuxie in your yard.  Do it in the house.” I responded.  “You don’t have to tell your neighbor anything.  This is between you and Tuxie.”

Lisa said she’d consider this, although from the look on her face, I doubted that she would do it.

A few weeks passed, and I had forgotten completely about my conversation with Lisa.

One Monday morning I was surprised to find Lisa waiting for me in my office.  She was very excited.

“It’s amazing!”  she began, all smiles.  “I took your advice.  I went away this last weekend with my friend and before I left, I told Tuxie everything you had suggested.  She seemed to listen, but I wasn’t sure she understood.

“When I got home last night, Tuxie greeted me at the door without any complaints.  She purred and rubbed up against me.  After dinner, we watched TV together and she sat in my lap as usual.  She even came into my bed last night, just as though I’d never been away.

“I can’t thank you enough for teaching me about this.  Tuxie was happy to see me and not upset at all with me for being away.  Now I can travel and enjoy my trips without worrying that Tuxie is home fretting.”

* * * * *ac_tact_60

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Theodora, Tux, and the Mouse

March 13, 2012 by  
Filed under Animals and Nature Kingdoms, New Posts


How to Pretend You Are Mousing When You Aren’t.

Tuxedo Cat with Mouse.


Eventually, Theodora made a feline friend. We named him Tux because he was black and white and looked like he was wearing a tuxedo. Of the 15 cats who had been present when Theodora first arrived, only Theodora was still with us when Tux showed up. There were no male cats to fight with, so Tux hung around hoping for a handout.

Tux was a hobo, drifting from place to place, eating whatever he could catch or find, and not caring how clean he kept himself. This hardly sounds like the type of cat you would expect Theodora to befriend.  (If you don’t understand this reference, please read the other stories about Theodora, who had attended Oxford University in England.)

Susan, Theodora’s person, came for a visit and took pity on Tux, who was living outside our house hoping we would adopt him. She let him in through the kitchen window and gave Tux something to eat. That was all it took for Tux to decide that this was a good place to stay.

While visiting us, Susan took Tux to the vet for a check up, vaccinations, and neutering. Now that he had a home, Tux was expected to look and be respectable in every way.

Tux decided it was time to catch up on eating, and he began to grow quite large in girth. He had a large, wide, round head (Garfield like) with ears that were a bit flat and stuck out to the sides. His right ear looked like someone had chewed on it. His body soon filled out to match his large head, and he grew quite plump and hefty. I guess Theodora insisted that he wash, because he soon began to clean himself every day.

Early one morning, as I set the coffee to brew, I spied a field mouse walking on the kitchen counter. Now at this time, both Theodora and Tux were in the kitchen, lounging on the counter at the other end of the kitchen, completely ignoring the mouse.

“Well, you lazy fellows,” I remarked, partly annoyed, but mostly amused, “Obviously we feed you far too well. Here is a mouse, making itself quite at home, and here are both of you ignoring it. I think we will have to suspend feeding you until you rid the kitchen of this mouse.”

Two astonished pairs of eyes followed me as I said down at the table.

“No food until we catch the mouse?”

“Unheard of!”



I’m sure both cats were fed their regular dinner that night. But the next morning, to my complete amazement, there was Tux, waddling his chubby self across the room, chasing the mouse.

Theodora, of course, didn’t catch mice. She was watching the chase from the counter, where I saw her surreptitiously giving Tux tips on which way the mouse had gone. She would lick a paw and then point it in the appropriate direction while pretending to wash her face.

Tux, who hadn’t hunted in some time, and whose girth was quite expanded, was struggling to keep up with the mouse. Then the mouse dashed behind the legs of an electric frying pan. Suddenly, everything on the counter flew into the air all at once as mouse and enormous cat went sailing through the air. The mouse ran out the window, or maybe it was the door, and peace and quiet returned.

Tux was immensely proud of himself for chasing the mouse away, and Theodora was proud that she had helped without actually chasing the mouse at all.

Tux came over and lay down on my feet and purred and purred, louder than ever.

Theodora pretended nothing had happened. How typical of Theodora!!