Buster the Benevolent Boxer

Buster the Benevolent Boxer

 
    It was the holiday which humans call Christmas. I’m amazed every year when the humans bring a whole tree inside and then hang lights and bright colorful trinkets all around the pine. I have to fight the urge to relieve myself at the base of the tree. Even though it was in the house, it was still a tree to me.

    All was quiet, and I was curled up at the foot of my master's bed, chasing squirrels in my sleep. My keen ears perked up to the sound of clattering downstairs. I eased off the bed so as not to wake Becky and padded down the stairs to investigate. As I stood at the foot of the stairs, I discovered the source of the noise. I settled down, my front paws crossed and tucked under my muzzle, and watched the show.

    I reluctantly share my humans’ affections with the family feline, Paddy. I don’t like Paddy, and I have to suffer the indignation of posing with her for Christmas portraits—ugh. Paddy doesn’t contribute one bit to the well being of my humans.  Becky calls Paddy with a, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” and the insufferable fur ball holds her position on the top of the sofa with no intention of answering Becky’s call. I, on the other hand, race through the big house, losing traction on the hard wood floors as I run into walls, in answer to Becky’s, “Here, boy.” She doesn’t have to call me twice.

    Paddy was pouncing sideways, her back humped like a camel, bravely stalking her prey in the jungle of the den. Her victim was the ferocious milk carton cap which was perched in attack-mode behind the trunk of the lighted tree.

    I chuffed at the ludicrous hunter as she silently approached her prey. Then my head tilted to one side as I took in the devastation that followed. Paddy’s sharp claws dug into the base of the tree. As she struggled to detach herself from the bark, the tree began to sway. It toppled over, carrying lights and baubles to the floor and pulling the plug away from the wall.

    A spark emerged from the wall plug and ignited the drapes nearby. The fire quickly spread over the Christmas tree and across the den. I began to bark. It was my most desperate and demanding bark. I tore upstairs and leaped onto Becky’s bed. 

    “Go away, Buster. It’s the middle of the night,” she moaned as she rolled over and snuggled under the covers. I knew that I had to get her up at any cost. I saw her hand dangling off the side of the bed, and I grasped it with my sharp teeth, expertly avoiding any skin damage. “Ow, Buster. What’s the matter with you?“ I gently pulled at her wrist, and Becky finally awoke. 

    The smoke was already curling around the bedroom door. Becky’s eyes grew wide as she sat up and saw the orange flicker of light in the hallway outside her room. “We gotta get Mom and Dad, Buster.“ She jumped out of bed, and I was already racing down the hall ahead of her to the master bedroom. Mom and Dad had heard my frantic barking, and they met us at the stair landing. They grabbed Becky and carried her down the stairs with me panting at their heels. The den was engulfed in flames. We made it through the kitchen and out the back door into the yard.

    “How did this happen, Jim?” Mom looked at Dad with tears in her eyes.

    “Rrrrufff,” I said, but they never can understand me.The fire trucks arrived, and their sirens hurt my ears. “Oooooowwwww.” 

      As the firemen put out the blaze, I spotted the four legged arsonist stretched out on the patio table, calmly taking a tongue bath. The milk carton cap lay lifeless at her feet. Becky took me in her arms. As her tears fell upon my smoky pelt, she whispered, “Buster, you could have been killed getting us out of there.  You’re so brave.”

    “Yeah, boy, looks like you’re a hero tonight,” said Dad as he scratched behind my ears. I love when he does that. 

    Mom joined in and rubbed my tummy as I rolled over on my back. “You must be part cat, Buster, cause I think you may have nine lives.”

    Well, I wouldn’t go that far, I thought.

Buster & Paddy