Yes,it is the "day after". Thanks to all for responding to my blog yesterday. All animal lovers can relate to this subject...the dreaded "goodbye". 

Amazing what grief can do to you. It's not the first time I've been here...might not be my last either. Time will tell whether another stray will find their way to my door. As someone who's always thought of themselves as a "dog" person it still astounds me how I fell completely in love with a ball of purring fur. And how his passing has hit me the very hardest.

Cats? Oh no...not me. They're not as friendly as dogs...they catch mice (ewww!)...they own you,you don't own them. They never sounded appealing. But I was wrong.

I wasn't supposed to wind up with BusterBrat. (Or maybe I was?) He was already somebody else's cat...2 houses down. But the gentleman moved away and took the cat with him. That is until he left the door open at his new place and B.B. found his way back to his birthplace. He loved this street I guess. He had to cross 2 very busy boulevard's to get back here. But there was no one waiting for him. So the lady next door to me started feeding him.

But it wasn't long before she moved out. And there was Buster on her former porch...sitting up there looking at me for a few days. I felt sorry for him just mulling around up there. I called to him but he was kind of a scaredy cat and never came over. Until that can of tuna opened. I left it on the grass and went back in the house. Behind the living room curtain I watched him slowly make his way over and lap at it.

And then there was the rat on my porch the next day. We were friends!

He was still pretty skittish for a long time. His original owner came driving down the street one day and saw him outside. He offered to give me money for food but I told him no,thanks anyway. He couldn't have cared very much if he was willing to just let him go that easy....not even TRY to take him back to his new residence. So phooey on him...I didn't want his money. Buster was mine now though I didn't really believe it yet. 

Slowly but surely he let me pet him. Then before you knew it I'd sit on the porch and pick him up and rub his belly. He'd just flop out in my arms and purr away.Some lady walked by one day and said..."Gee...I wish MY cat would let me do that!" I guess that was the moment I realized that this WAS my cat now,lol.

So where did all these years go? I'm trying to pick my brain for whimsical stories or crazy tricks he could do or something special that stood out. But he was just...Buster. (His former owner named him that...I added the "Brat" later even though he wasn't :)

He was just always there. Part of the house. The presence in my backyard. The little orange tabby that became entwined in every aspect of my life. And especially my heart. For almost 17 years.   

He talked a lot. He talked to me constantly. All sorts of coos and purrs and complaints. His meow's were more like "wow's". So I "wowed" back at him a lot too. His assortment of sounds were endless. The "eh eh eh eh's" when watching a bird...mournful guttoral moans when a cat fight was in the making...gleeful purrs when digging in the catnip....hisses at a approaching enemy cat. One of my favorites was when he'd be sitting up on his ottoman (yes, it was clearly HIS) very quiet like and I'd come up behind him and lightly touch his head. He knew I was there but he'd do this startled little "oh!" like "I know you're there...quit disturbing me". It was a little game we played and I never tired of it. (Maybe he did :)

I understood him. At least I think I did...I HOPE I did. No, I'm pretty sure I did. When you're grieving it's easy to get all jumbled up. In time my memories will come back and I'll remember bits and pieces. And I will choke and my eyes will fill with tears...but hopefully they will be happier ones. 

Now I'm waiting for him to come home. In a different form. In a couple of weeks his remains will be returned and I will sprinkle him back to where he belongs--In the backyard hidden behind the Camellia bush on his special pile of leaves. And under the Mock Orange tree next to the big exposed root he liked to lay against. In the front yard on the sidewalk where he used to sit and watch what was going on. And under the car in the driveway...another favorite patrolling spot.

No matter how prepared you think you are for these moments...you never are. You just have to remind yourself that your little loved one is in a better place and waiting for you someday.

That's what gets me through the day. "wow",Buster. "wow".  Thanks for most purr-fect 17 years of my life :)