The Nine Lives of Buster

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
They say cats can feel it when they are about to die. The story is told by the cat describing a life the cat is proud of and about the cat's friendship with a man that saved it a long time ago.

Submitted: October 16, 2011

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Submitted: October 16, 2011



My friend… specifically friend and not a owner! Together we’ve experienced more than one could remember! It is only with a cat that you can completely understand yourself and no dog could ever replace us. For dogs you will always remain an owner, while for us cats you are a friend!

Remember the day you found me? I was a small kitten, not older then six months, I think. I was thrown off a bridge, under which you were hiding from your dad. If I remember correctly, you broke his crystalline vase or an ashtray. Oscar, the neighbors ginger cat told me it was one fabulous vase. Or was it actually an ashtray? Your dad often took it with him to the balcony. Anyway, having seen me fall, you jumped into the cold water at once. I was lucky that my old owners (specifically owners, and not friends at all) were too greedy to spare a box for me, nor did they hide me into a bag. And you jumped into the water just as you were, all dressed up. You only pulled your shirt off and carried me home wrapped in it. I remember very well, that everything around smelled of the river and the shirt bore your smell. You pulled me out just a moment too late and thus I lost my first life. In return, the other eight became all yours.

And remember the night you had a gas leak? That summer, in your country house. I recall coming home and seeing you sleep carelessly. You were visited by friends and went to sleep after they left. I tried different ways to wake you up and you can never imagine all the things I tried to do. I had never again yelled as much, as I yelled into your ear that night. Believe me, after those two flights across the room you granted me anyone else would have turned his back and left. I didn’t, because you were my friend… You swore so much after I dropped all the books from the shelves on you, but I don’t mind. If I were you I would also wonder why did you, all of a sudden, start crawling on the shelves: what if you decided you were a roach, or, perhaps, it was another Spiderman movie that affected you too much. But come to think of it, how would you explain there was a gas leak if you were me? Luckily, I started to cough and you decided I was going to throw up and pushed me outside. Amazingly, that helped. After getting a sip of fresh air you could easily smell the gas leak on your own. Why do you people have a nose if your smelling is so weak? Trying to wake you up I inhaled so much methane, that it must be then that I lost my third life.

I proudly announce that I lost my fourth life with dignity, during a battle. We got a rat living in your kitchen. You were still young and trusty, and whenever you left some wurst on the table and didn’t find it on the same place some time later, it was said to be Buster’s fault. Why Buster? Perhaps Buster wasn’t even at home at that time! I return home from a date to get punished. Different cats may react differently, but my feelings were hurt. You will not believe this one, but I spent two weeks guarding it. At last, the big day came. I was daydreaming on the heater when I heard steps and smelled the rat! On the edge of hearing I lifted my head and at that moment it saw me! It rolled its evil yellow eyes and wagged its skinny tail. At once I performed a tae-kwon-do stand, and in response the rat jumped up in ju-jitsu. I crashed its ear with my paw and missed a hit on the head with a frying pan. That was when I lost my temper, forgot about my aristocratic manners and started fighting seriously, in full strength. I flashbacked watching a Freddie Krueger episode with you on video and released my claws – it unveiled razor-sharp teeth. It was a truly unequal combat, but I still came out as a winner. That is because I am a cat, that is, a creature of a much higher rank, besides I have nine lives, which are much better than one humble life of one humble rat.

My sixth life… Well, I have never felt myself guilty for it and I never will. Your Vicky was a real bitch and there is no way you could make me change my mind! They always have that unusual and unnatural smell. They are aware of it and try to hide that smell with expensive perfumes. They also have weird clothes and their skin is always cold. God be my witness, I tried to settle down on her knees and make friends. I turned this and that way, but once I managed to find a more or less comfortable position she would turn her knee unnoticeably so that I would be cold and uncomfortable again and again. She pretended for you that she was mad about me, but once you stepped out she would call her friends and tell them how stupid you were. Believe it or not, I couldn’t stand it! Punish me, curse me, be sulk with me, but that is my character. Do anything to me, but beware to do that to my friends! And how could I explain to you that she is the bad one? The task was far more difficult then that one with the gas leak. I am a very intelligent cat and you can never imagine what moral agony I had to go through while doing a job onto her best dress! But I had to do it! Of course the hit of her reticule was significant. It was that reticule (Gucci, as I now remember) that shook out my sixth life. It may sound cynical, but it was worth it, especially when you took me in your hands and hugged. Never again had I felt a stronger moral satisfaction! Your Katie now is totally different, especially when she shares with me the fibers she cuts out from the meat!

I don’t mind losing my seventh life. Kittens are always innocently witless, and your kitten Robbie isn’t an exception. It is very good that you let him play with me. Human cubs have to learn kindness and true wisdom from cats! I agree, he did pull my tail, drag me around and try to wash me, but because of that now he takes of me most care of all and is most worried for me. I feel ashamed to lie down doing nothing when he behaves so. However my age limits my abilities.

My second, fifth and eighth deaths were heroic. I was fighting other cats. First time it was for the sake of my love and the rest were lost in territorial arguments. These street cats wanted to claim your yard theirs. It was hard, but I managed and you helped me. I feel happy every time I remember how you dashed out onto the yard as soon as you heard my cry for help and scared these bandits with fur full of fleas away.

All in all, my eight lives make me proud and leave me with the memories of which I am proud of and which I enjoy. It is only the ninth life that causes my slight bewilderness. The point is that we, cats, foresee our ninth death. For some reason we cannot foresee any of our deaths except for the last one. It is ridiculous, that my outstanding life should end so usually and my death should be caused only by my age. It is funny how often I felt sorry for you with your single life, that I didn’t even imagine that my nine would be shorter then your one. You know, they say cats don’t go to heaven. I heard your mother tell that to Robbie. She also said animals have no soul. Maybe so, but why then is it so unbearably hard for me to leave you? You know, if I could write, I would have written all of it in a good-bye letter, addressed to you, however all I can do is meow it gently into your ear.

I am leaving. I am leaving, because my last, ninth death should be met honorably, no matter what may come and how would it happen. I remember you read about the Vikings, who believed that only those who die in a battle deserve heaven. A worthy belief and I like it much more then that of your mother. But cats have their own belief. Every, even the most humble cat believes, that if at the moment of death a cat is all alone and the cat’s life was noble enough (just like mine), we cats, as a reward for such life, receive strong armor and mighty wings. Wearing them, a cat turns into a young and beautiful dragon. Perhaps you remember reading about them in fairytales. It is the noble dragons that cats come from and it is noble dragons we turn into after living nine lives on Earth.

That is why you needn’t cry when I leave, although it is hard for me too. They say dragons can fly and chase the clouds in the sky for the rains to fall in the right places. In my free time I shall fly to your window and send away all the rainclouds. You will see the sun and smile, feeling that I am near. That is why, although I am leaving, you shouldn’t cry! And find your kitten a friend as good, as I was. Fare the well. Your Buster. Meow.

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