I used to have a cat named Bud. His given name was Budweiser but Bud was his real identity. He was the coolest cat ever.
I got him when I was in sixth or seventh grade. Bud was a pound cat. He was a brown tabby with a white stomach and big, white paws. Bud had a singular talent of walking on his hind legs and asking not-very-politely for his food.
Bud had an attitude. Bud was independent. Bud was a bit ornery. Bud was like one of the cool kids in high school. The ones who impressed you just by knowing your name, even though you otherwise had little in common. Bud was a rock star of a cat. Remember those fat cat cartoons with the sunglasses? Bud could’ve been the inspiration for those.
Tragically, he was struck and killed by a car on the busy street where we lived. It was summer. I think I was 17 or so. My brother had to give me the bad news. I’ve always wondered if that was difficult for him. He did it rather businesslike. I was in the shower. He came in, told me through the steam and water, said that Bud was in the garage and then he left for work.
I didn’t cry. I think I always figured that Bud would go out that way. He had been hit in full stride. He had what you could only categorize as a smile on his face. Eyes open. The only sign of trauma was a small trickle of blood from his mouth. I can still see his image in my mind’s eye. I’d like to think that he died instantly and didn’t suffer. It certainly looked that way.
Bud was the last cat that I have called my own. Turns out I am allergic to the beasts.
I was reminded of Bud last night when I was at my friends, Lucas and Audrey’s for dinner. They have two cats of personality: Mudshark and Sputnik. Sputnik is a wonderful spaz of a cat. Mudshark may be the reincarnation of Bud himself. I had fun playing with them between a few too many swigs of port and episodes of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.
And with that I realized that I am a cat person. Not an active cat person but a cat person nonetheless. Allergies aside, if there’s a cat that I meet in my strolls I always try to engage it. Jangle some keys. Call to it. See if it will do that sort of feline Salsa dance between my ankles.
Yep. Cat person.
Take care crossing the street.