My Therapy Animal

Buttons, my therapy pet

Buttons was my faithful companion for 14 years. A workman at the monastery found him among the leaves, abandoned by his mother, a scrawny 4- or 5-week-old, belly extended, full of fleas, and squirming to get away. A vet visit cleared up the physical problems, and within a few months, he was jumping around my feet, sneaking rides in the elevator to check out the third floor of the monastery, hiding in trees to watch us during our picnics.

When I left the monastery in 2001, I took Buttons with me. He traveled with me to Texas, where I lived with my brother for 5 months. Then we returned to Massachusetts, where I was living with a friend. He loved exploring outside, but he had a habit of being by the door when I got home, every single time.

I won an award that allowed me to spend two months in France. When I returned, Buttons was by the door, waiting for me, excited I was back and not letting me out of his sight.

Buttons was not a lap cat. He didn't like to be held, and his purr was almost non-existent. But Buttons was there for me. Not just by the door when I’d return, but sitting in the room I was in, sometimes venturing on the back of the couch. He stayed in my bedroom when I was working on papers or reading. He slept with me every night.

I brought Buttons with me every year when I drove to Alabama to work at the monastery there during the summers I was in college.

I always thought I was the one who saved Buttons. But in the end, I realized he acted as my therapy pet. Attentive despite being aloof, faithful, and companionable, he helped me get through some tough years.

I took Buttons with me when I moved to Baltimore. A hardy boy, I thought he'd live to be 18 or 20 years old.

When the vet discovered he had a cancerous mass that prevented him from eliminating, I was devastated. Buttons had been my comfort for over 12 years. I never felt alone while he was there, watching me, rolling over on his back to let me know he was happy, playing feverishly with whatever toys I bought, or even a twistem I dropped.

As I held him for the last time, I thanked him for all he had given me.

He truly brought me great comfort and joy.