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Buster is yet another kitty who saw the "sucker" sign on our house, but his timing was
off and he arrived during a "no room at the inn" period.
He showed up sometime in the late summer or early fall of 1996. At that time, there were five
kitties indoors already. He was an older kitten, no longer small and cuddly, and we couldn't
take him to the local shelter, as they aren't no-kill.
When it became obvious that no-one else in the neighborhood was taking care of him, we saw to
having him neutered and vaccinated. Post surgery, he was adamant that he did not want to be
confined to even the open-to-fresh-air-and-sun breezeway, so back out he went.
We watched out for him as he patrolled his little bit of territory here on our end of the block,
worried when he wasn't seen for a day or so, and nagged him about being careful around cars because
his territory also included the end of the block across the street. Kibble and fresh water being
dependably available on our porch, he checked in regularly and stayed for conversation, flea
combing and petting.
He got the name "Badseed" first, because he tended to play just a little roughly...we'd tell him
(with a smile) what a bad seed he was. "Buster" just flew out of my mouth one day, and "Buster
Badseed" became the name he responded to from then on.
Then, right before Thanksgiving, 1999, he was injured. Chance found him hiding beneath a car
parked in our driveway, and he couldn't stand. Off to the vet's he went...his pelvis was broken
and he stayed there for a week, coming home on December 2, 1999.
The intention was to give him a recuperation period of several weeks in our back room, away
from the stress and possible problems that meeting the other cats while he was incapacitated might
cause. He had one unplanned overnight guest his second night, 8 month old Azad (who generally
doesn't make trouble and wasn't watched as carefully as he should have been), snuck in one
evening and was trapped there all night, but otherwise he had no idea that four kitties awaited
on the other side of the door.
But Buster had his own plans for his recovery, and staying alone in the back room for
"several weeks" just wasn't on his agenda (frequent human visits apparently didn't count).
He decided he'd had enough segregation after three days, and loudly announced his decision
at 3:00 in the morning with multiple RattleBANGscratchscratchscratches on the door and howls
of "Let me OWWWWWWT!"
Since then, he's made slow but steady progress. He'll always have a definite limp
and doesn't often jump anywhere, but his gait isn't nearly so wobbly. He seems happy
with the places that he *can* reach and doesn't seem to fret the places (like
the countertops) that he *can't*.
The other cats seemed to recognize his disability, while they hissed and wanted nothing to
do with him at first, he didn't get whapped by anyone. He and Azad became particularly
friendly, playing wild chase games most evenings.
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