Butch

                                                                                                            My Friend

      Butch entered my life through the front door of the small veterinary clinic where I worked, wailing at the top of his voice. When I went to investigate, I saw a small wet bunch of orange fur, dangling in mid- air at the end of a man's arm.

      A truck, driving in front of the kitten's rescuer, had struck the young cat, knocking him to the side of the road. As the truck drove away, the man stopped and found a young male kitten with a broken leg. And he was full of fleas, hungry, wet, and cold. When that truck had hit him, it had been the last straw. He wailed and hollered and cried. He was tired and starving and HIS LEG HURT!

      The man knew he couldn't keep the little kitten, but he couldn't leave him in the road. Seeing the vet clinic's sign just down the street, the young man, picking the kitten up, brought him to us. I reached for that little bundle, wrapped him in a towel, and held him close, claiming him for my own.

      After examining him, the veterinarian said he couldn't fix the broken leg. As his new owner, I could choose to amputate it or wait and see how he managed. I decided to wait. I felt this kitten had had enough pain and I wanted to make him feel safe. After feeding and drying him, I put him in a small towel--filled box, named him Butch, and left him there to rest as I finished my work.

      Then, I took Butch to his new home, a home that had become increasingly unhappy, my marriage was slowly coming to an end, and it was painful. Little did I know that this little orange kitty would help me through some of the roughest days of my life
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      About a year after I brought Butch home, I, finally, decided to break away from my husband. By this time Butch had grown into a 22 1b. luxuriously rich beige adult. His leg had healed with a bent paw that he used as a tool, scooping water from his water bowl. He was my closest friend. No matter what else I took when I left the marriage, he was coming with me.

      I left early one morning after my husband had gone to work, taking only my clothes, my needlework, a few of my books, and Butch. We ended up at my brother's but living there wasn't working.

      By this time, I'd started working at another veterinary clinic so I knew I could support us very cheaply. It was very hard. I had very little furniture, no bed, no kitchen appliances and no car. The only place I could afford was very small without a decent bathroom and no heat.  My brother would take me to work but I had to beg a ride home every day.

      But Butch kept me somewhat normal. When I would get home from work, Butch would greet me at the door and, immediately, demand his supper. My appetite hadn't been good since leaving and I didn't always feel like eating. But as I fed Butch, I would fix something for myself.

      After we both ate, we would sit blanketed together on the couch, and eat popcorn, Butch would make me laugh as I watched him eat his, He preferred his popcorn, one piece at a time, perched on the couch's edge. After eyeing the piece for a moment, he would hook it with his bent paw, knocking it to the floor, and eat it. This went on for several minutes until he tired of the game. Next, Butch had learned how to fetch so I would throw a crumpled cigarette pack and he'd bring it back.  That was our playtime.

      Then as I bathed out of a bucket, he would sit on the rug and groom himself. We would go to bed early to stay warm and in our pile of blankets on the floor, he would cuddle next to me, sharing body heat.
 
      Some days, especially on the weekends, I didn't want to leave my bed. Butch would sense this and make great leaps over me until he aggravated me so much, I'd have to get up, When I felt really low, wondering if our lives would ever get better, Butch would sit next to me and gently touch my face as I cried, curling up in a warm comforting ball in my lap and purr very loudly as if he was telling me everything was okay because we were together.Gradually, things got better, and our life became easier.

      Butch and I are still together. He's glad to see me when I get home, and we still play the popcorn game. I know Butch helped me keep going when my life went through such a hard time.

    Through those dark days, he was the only bright spot in my life, and he made it so much easier for me.


WC 834