A Buddy’s Life

  Buster was eighty-seven years old and his wife Georgie had rescued me from the shelter to keep him company.

   Buster and I sat in the sunroom watching the backyard for hours. A perfectly fine use of time in my opinion. We both turned our heads to the conversation in the kitchen, and then, with dignified scorn, we returned to watching.

   “Ma, why did you get him a cat?” Thomas said.

   “He needs company. He sits out there alone all day.” Georgie said.

   “He’s got stage four cancer and he’s refusing treatment. He wants to be alone.”

   “It’s not right. He doesn’t want to talk anymore. He needs some company.”

   “Some company? You think the cat’s going to talk to him?”

   “Thomas.”

   “At your ages you shouldn’t be taken on more responsibilities.”

   “It a cat. They look after themselves.”

   “No, they don’t. They eat and crap and get fleas and you have to watch what they’re up to all the time.”

   “Well, maybe if you visited your father more often...”

   “If I visited you more often. That’s what this is about. Why did you pick such a fat cat? And what about a kitten?”

   I licked a paw and groomed my ear. It’s not that cats don’t care. It’s mostly that we refuse to show that we care.

   “A big cat won’t jumped on the furniture. And a mature cat is more genteel.”

   “Whatever, I’ve got to get back to work. You watch that thing’s going to shred your furniture.”

   “Can you find a scratch post for it?”

   “Aw, ma, see this is what you do. Now you’re going to get me running errands for this thing.”

   A loathsome creature, I’m surprised they bothered with their son at all. She allowed him to hug her and thankfully he left.

   I got up from the wide arm of Buster’s chair and did a perfunctory stretch, and then dropped down to the floor. I stayed at Buster’s slippers. There was never any hurry to be anywhere else. I put my head against his ankle and flopped over. I was rewarded with a few head pats and cheek brushes.

   The time went by in the most satisfactory way.

   “I got him a scratch post, and some of this weight loss kibble. That cat’s got to get on a diet. It’s going to go before dad does.”

   “Thomas.”

   “Well, ma, I’d be more optimistic about dad if he went for his chemo.”

   “Leave him. He’s happy.”

   “He just sits there.”

   Thomas was clearly one of those humans who spent his days racing among rats. You know the type.

   Buster and I had another fruitful day of backyard watching. I sat at attention for a daring squirrel that had approached the sunroom. I made some faux swipes from inside. Buster got up and tapped the screen door to shoo the squirrel away. When he sat back down I headbutted his ankles in appreciation.  

   I happily overate the weight loss kibble and threw it up on the carpeted living room floor. Georgie was not happy, but didn’t blame me. The human smelling scratch post was not worth considering.

   “Where’s the food I bought him?”

   “It made him sick. He’s old and sensitive.”

   “It’s for old and sensitive. If you stop giving him the greasy canned stuff, he’ll eat the kibble and keep it down.”

   “Maybe I should just feed it to your father?”

   “How is he?”

   They stopped talking and hugged each other. I moved off the chair arm onto Buster’s lap. He didn’t mind the weight at all. He lightly brushed my back and we both enjoyed the warmth.

   The time went by in the most satisfactory way.

   I woke Georgie with loud cries. I headbutted Buster repeatedly but he wouldn’t move. Buster was always up earlier than Georgie, but today he didn’t make it to the sunroom. I circled his body as Georgie came down the steps, carefully, one step at a time. Strangers carried away Buster and Thomas sat with Georgie for a long time. I cried in the sunroom.

   Georgie and I got on well. I learned to climb steps again as Georgie was so late getting up in the mornings. Why anyone would sleep in so much when you could get up and play? I lost a little bit of weight without a change in diet.

   The stair climbing only lasted a year and then Georgie’s bed was moved downstairs into the dining room. That’s when she started to sit in the sunroom more often. While I never sat in her lap, she would help me up onto the arm of the chair. She was very good at cheek rubs.

   Thomas brought a cat toy for Georgie. Which she gave to me. Despite my wish to live a peaceful life I found myself playing with the cat toy. It was absolutely maddening the way she would dangle it in front of me. Sure, most of my grabbing for it was done on my back, paws swiping up. Still, it was very invigorating.

       The time went by in the most satisfactory way.

    When the strangers came for Georgie, she was alive, but they had to carry her away. I was alone in house now. The night came and I cried.

    Then Thomas returned that same night. He went and sat in the sunroom looking out at the darkness. I stayed in kitchen watching him.

   The time went by.

   Then Thomas got up and left and returned with a carrier. I know the hated thing when I see it. Awkwardly, and unceremoniously, I was pushed into it. I was taken to some twenty-four seven vet hospital. Where strangers stuck me with needles and drew my blood. They shoved metal things in my mouth and scraped and pushed them around.

   “His teeth needed cleaning badly, so we have some antibiotics he has to take to prevent infection. His bloodwork was fine, but he needs to lose weight. Otherwise, he’s a fine old gentleman.”

   Thomas took me to my new home. His apartment.

   “Okay, it’s you and me now, Buddy. And I’m going to look after you, and I’m not going to change your food. I got your litter box over here. And your toy. And I’m going to play with you everyday when I get home from work. And I got a view for you. Here.”  

   Thomas opened the door to the balcony. I could see birds from the balcony. Lots of birds and light.

    The time went by in the most satisfactory way.