Saying Good-bye to Buster by Susan Michaels, Founder

Buster was the first cat Pasado’s Safe Haven rescued, nearly 11 years ago.

And what a cat we came to know.

He was a “sprayer - and where else could a cat no one would ever want, be given life for over a decade? To roam safely, indoors and out, hunt mice in the middle of the night, and snooze outside in the sun? And spray a bed, a wall, the front door. True sanctuary. When we think of those small hearts that are using their time to tear Pasado’s down, they do not think of Buster.

An orange, male tabby, who was the most photogenic of all cats to come, he was this little start-up sanctuary’s mascot. He ‘hosted’ our first work parties in 1998, the group effort that built this miracle over time. He was a barn cat when he arrived at Pasado’s, and he’d have nothing of the trailer we lived in – at least not during the day. He loved the outdoors, even in the drenching Northwest rain.

He followed our very first volunteers and he was my constant companion in the mornings. For the first few years, I started every day opening barn doors and unleashing cows and goats and pigs and chickens on to the sacred land – land that would eventually be used to save countless animals. Buster would lumber alongside as I’d feed the animals. I, with pitchfork in hand, would begin the daily regimen of mucking out stalls. Buster would hope to see a barn mouse scurry across the floor; he was always more interested in the chase than the catch. And always a sucker for a fresh bed of straw.

And that’s just where he’d while away the days, for the most part.

Before dusk, every night, he’d arrive on the doorstep of the trailer. In he’d come and join “Death Row Dogs” I rescued from the Everett Shelter. A memory I will go to my death coveting is clear in my mind today – Buster, with 6 dogs, multiple other rescued cats, and Wishbone, a turkey, eating peaceably in the small kitchen of the trailer. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder.

NO one, I recall thinking then, would ever believe this.

In the one room we would live for 5+ years (the “living room” and “bedrooms” already converted to house rescued animals or humans at work), Buster slept on my head, every night. Without fail. About two years in, Buster fell ill. He lingered in a 24-hour veterinary hospital for over a week; his body kept hydrated on IV fluids and antibiotics. We would learn he had a rare lung infection. He nearly died.

But he didn’t.

Lambchop, a little baby, rescued from a petting zoo, now about ten years old, and me are the only ‘originals” who now walk this sacred land.. I have watched many die and more, saved. The most difficult are those who we fetch from suffering only to lose them soon after they arrive. “How close,” I would mourn. “How close they came to Heaven.” I would hope they were in a place as good as here.

Buster has had a great life. As good as it gets for a cat, unless loved endlessly by a family. But that was not meant to be.

What is so difficult, for me, is to say goodbye to yet another being who was here, in the beginning, who I loved.

Deborah told me the vets wanted to keep Buster long enough to drain fluid from his body cavity. The doctors thought it was cancer. He was on pain meds so at least he was brought comfort during this torturous wait.

A day later, Deborah called -  Buster’s lungs had been drained of 100cc’s of fluid. He was failing. He needed to return to where he began.

Buster, below, in his final hour of life.

Buster came home. Deborah, Donna, Will, Autumn, Amber, Brendan, and others – released Buster on to the grounds he once roamed. He was much slower than the day he first arrived. When he tired, he curled up in high, green grass, outside, as the blue sky above beckoned to him. He heard our voices call his name, the favorite word to every animal. He purred, and purred. He looked into our eyes and smelled our scent. And we helped him slip away. So very loved.

So much good has come in your honor, and because of your suffering. Yet so little ‘good’ exists for animals. And for those like you, not a dog or cat, and especially for those who suffer to give food, few places of peace exist. Please help those who do not see this.

We know Buster is in your good hands. He joins so many of my children who have shared this home called Pasado’s. Pasado, please bring Buster to the “two white dots” who will no doubt push his way to the front of the line. Chomper and Buster were best buddies for years. My dear friend has not stopped calling to me since he came to you seven months ago.

Help them all be not afraid. It must be so much better there. It must.

For the animals...
Susan