Butch Returns

Our family made a long sad journey to the farm in Evansport, Ohio where Grandma and Grandpa lived. We had to find a home for our old, yellow, cat Butch. The doctors and my parents knew there was something wrong with me when I was born. They didn't know what it was. There were many long nights when my parents took turns caring for me. I was wheezing and having alot of trouble breathing. I had to sleep sitting up in bed or on someones lap. As I grew older the problem still remained. When I was about 4 or 5 our doctor sent us to a specialist in the city. They determined I had asthma. Needless to say during these years I was a sickly child. In every picture of me there were dark circles under my eyes. I was scrawny. These doctors did alot of testing for things I was allergic to and it was determined that cats were at the top of the list. The house had to be specially cleaned. Covers were put on my mattress and pillows, and worst of all I had to get a shot in the arm every week. I was to be desensitized to my worst allergies. Overshadowing any problemas my family might have with this problem, was the problem of the cat. We had had Butch as far back as I could remember. He was a member of our family. He knew when my dad got home from work he better move out of his way. My dad always said,"I am not stepping over any cat!" Butch knew my dad meant it. Butch use to sleep on the cedar chest in the bedroom above the kitchen. When he heard my mom open the refrigerator door, the next thing you heard was his feet hit the bedroom floor. My older sisters, Janny and Nedy and I, use to dress Butch in doll clothes and take him for rides in our doll baby buggie. Fun for us. We all loved Butch. Even my dad in his own way. We went to see our Grandma and Grandpa in Evansport every Sunday after church. This particular Sunday was different. We were taking Butch to his mew home with them. We were all very sad. I was very unpopular. I felt very bad. Butch was, our only animal. Time sofened the loss of our beloved Butch. I quickly learned that the shots hurt as the amount of medicine in the shot increased. The doctor and I had some go arounds. My screaming from my defensive position on my back on the floor and him with shot in hand made an interesting picture. My mother would promise me a gift if I would not resist. I remember the pink plastis music box. It was round and had blue flowers on the top. I don't remember what song it played. Is that a bribe? It worked some of the time. Poor mom. After a few years the shots were stopped. I had out grown most of my asthma. Now, at sixty nine, at my cabin in the Texas Hill Country Butch has returned. Low and behold a large yellow cat has come to live with Gypsy and me and the rest of the cabin bunch. What a wonderful gift from the past. He will not live in our house because of lingering allergies. We will love him like before. Welcome home to the cabin Butch. I have missed you.