I would try to take him on this walk everyday, weather permitting. The park itself was about three miles away from our house. To reach park we had to cross a number of busy roads, however he would never pull or misbehave. He knew where we were heading and seemingly did not want to rock boat and risk been taken home before he reached his dream destination.

At park itself I would throw a ball and he would chase it and fetch it back to me.

We got Buster from county animal shelter. We usually get our cats from county animal shelter. That way we save a life -- and we’ve gotten some great cats that way. One fall, after our cat had died and left a big hole in our lives, we went to animal shelter for a kitten. There were no kittens.

I was about to give up, but my husband Bill kept saying, “That one over there looks good.”And he did. He was about three-quarters grown, grey and white, and had a sweet, hopeful expression on his little face. Also, he was scheduled to be killed next day. There was no time for us to go home and meditate on matter.

We went to people in charge and said, “We’ll take that one.”

As we and cat rode home, Bill picked out his name. We take turns naming our cats, and it was Bill’s turn. “We’ll call him Buster,” he said.

“Buster?”

“When you’re mad at me, you say, ‘See here, Buster,’ and I’d like to have someone else around named Buster.”

When we got Buster home, he of course had to inspect house. After a look around -- one briefer than that of most cats -- he went into my mother’s bedroom, where sun was shining warmly on her pink bedspread. He jumped onto bed and promptly went to sleep in a patch of sunlight, sprawled out on his back, paws up, way a cat sprawls when he’s feeling completely safe and happy.

“Home at last,” he was saying. “Home at last.”

BUSTER IS WELCOMED TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD

At our house Buster had food available around clock, but he must have been hungry as a kitten, because he didn’t think of other houses in our neighborhood as unfriendly. He thought of them as snack bars.

I later discovered that he got a slice of bologna from Pearl Cesare every morning around ten. He got milk from Bert Pigge shortly thereafter. Then he jumped onto a chair -- Bert had an especially desirable one -- and had a nap.

Buster was a successful entrepreneur from start.

The other cats welcomed Buster to neighborhood by hissing and snarling and letting him know he was in THEIR territory and he’d better get out. Well, Buster didn’t get out. He didn’t even get worried. I don’t know why; he just didn’t.

Then came heavy artillery: neighborhood’s reigning tomcat.