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The bewildered tom sent a few more air-raid siren noises into empty air. Then he fell silent. At last he wandered off in another direction.
After that Buster was accepted as a neighborhood cat in good standing.
BUSTER HELPS ME UP AND OUT
Buster woke me in
morning by bouncing on my waterbed. I would dream I was in a small boat in a choppy sea. And gradually wake to find Buster leaping straight up in
air and briskly landing on all fours on
waterbed. KER-THUMP, KER-SLOSH. KER-THUMP, KER-SLOSH. The waterbed waves grew higher and higher as Buster briskly bounced . . . until, groggy and seasick, I rolled onto solid ground.
BUSTER AND THE ESSENTIAL KINDNESS OF AUTOMOBILES
Buster believed in
essential kindness of people and automobiles. When summer arrived, I began hearing cars honk in front of
house. And looked out to see Buster waking from a nap, which nap was taking place in
middle of
street. He found
sun-warmed blacktopped pavement ideal for that purpose. Fortunately ours was not a through street; drivers were honking at Buster and waiting for him to leisurely wake up and move out of their way. But how long could that last?
Whenever I saw Buster napping in
street, I yelled at him to get out. To which he paid no attention. I had to go into
street, pick up his warm, luxuriously limp body, and carry him indoors.
And
next day I’d hear a car honking again.
“Why didn’t you keep him indoors, you idiot?” you are thinking.
Well, with 20/20 hindsight I know I should have. But I hoped that
honking cars would teach Buster not to sleep in
street. They would have taught any other cat.
And, while I dithered, came
heartbreaking day when Buster didn’t return from his happy neighborhood rounds.
I of course made inquiries -- and learned about his tours of
home snack bars.
But he hadn’t been to any of them that day.
I asked a group of kids if they had seen Buster.
“Is he
cat who chases cars?” they asked.
Chases cars?
And then I recalled a half-forgotten memory: that of a little grey and white figure bounding joyously in
wake of an automobile.
“That’s him,” I said.
But they had not seen him lately either.
I will never know for certain what happened to Buster, but clearly he trusted in
essential kindness of people and automobiles one time too many.
