THE GREAT TOMATO MASSACRE

I awoke this morning and went into the kitchen to get a drink of water, as I do almost every day. Today, something was amiss. The big red ripe tomato from my father-in-law's garden had been wounded during the night. It looked as if it had been through a battle, while it had been perfectly fine when I placed it on the kitchen counter last night. I began to look around for a mouse trail, but found none. We haven't had mice in the house for years and hope to never have them again. So what, or who, had massacred my tomato?

It didn't take long to figure out that the scoundrel who shares my bed had defiled the tomato. No, it was not my spouse, but rather my innocent-looking cat, Holly. She was the only one out and about last night. The other cats were in the lower level and the dog was in her sleeping crate, so it had to be Holly. She has free run of the house at night and gets what I call "the night crazies". She often runs through the house as if something is chasing her and we sometimes see evidence that she has been on the diningroom table. She loves to knock things off the table and thrash them around the floor, playing with them. I never condone the cats jumping up on the table or kitchen counter, but what Holly does while we're sleeping is anybody's guess.

Holly obviously likes tomatoes, but who knew? I'd never heard of cats eating tomatoes and never previously had any fruit or vegetable accosted while it sat quietly on the kitchen counter. I guess there's a first time for everything!