An Introduction to Buttons
He is the "Sun" in "Hearth and Sun." He is my sky. This will be Part 1 of an infinite series on him.
I want to tell you about my cat Buttons. He was a little grey man with bright, striking green eyes. He was very vocal - when it was just me and him living together, I could hear him meowing at the door as soon as I entered the apartment complex. I decided to put a note on our door that said, “Don’t mind my cat, he’s a huge crybaby,” just in case the neighbors heard and thought I was neglecting him. He always knew when it was me entering the building - if I was away and someone was cat sitting for me, he’d stay quiet until they entered our unit. He had many different types of meows. He had a meow for when he wanted wet food, a meow for when he wanted attention, a meow for when he just wanted to talk to you, and a meow for when he had the zoomies. Buttons and I talked every day for the better part of 15 years.
Buttons loved to cuddle. As soon as you sat down, he’d be in your lap. When I took baths, he’d lay on the bathmat. When I was in therapy, he’d be right there with me - my therapist would always point out how attuned he was with me. I joked that he was just getting free therapy. On mornings when my alarm wasn’t waking me up, he would gently pat me on the face with his paw so I would turn it off. Then, as soon as I was awake, he’d be laying right on my chest. He was only eight pounds, so it was like having a soft little weighted blanket on me. I loved to put my hand on him and feel him breathe. I would close my eyes and breathe with him.
He always knew the moment I was about to leave the house, because that was the exact moment he’d stomp onto my lap. “Sorry I haven’t left yet, Buttons is on me,” was a text I sent out very frequently. He did it to guests, too! No one was safe from Buttons’ cuddles. He would get comfy and stretch out one or both of his little front paws in a position we called his “fancy feet.” Look at that fancy foot! What a fancy little man. We’d laugh, and I would gently touch his paw pads, which was usually followed by him taking his paw close to his chest, fancy foot gone. For a creature that loved to cuddle, he was less into being picked up. I’d give him a scoop and he’d purr for a second and then longingly look at the ground, or press a front paw against my face. I’d gently place him back down and he’d look back up at me with a mrow!
Buttons was my childhood cat. When I was 11, I wanted to catch one of the new kittens that lived under the big pine tree in the backyard of our apartment complex. My family was enjoying the late August weather and I was feeling lucky. I crept up to the litter, being careful not to move too quickly or look at them too intently. I side stepped and held my breath until I was within arm’s length of one. The first kitten I grabbed promptly scratched my hand and escaped, so I walked away to reset and try again. After the kittens came out of hiding, I returned with my nonchalant creeping method. This time, I went for the smallest kitten in the group, catching him with ease as he didn’t put up a strong fight. Chuffed with my success, I brought him over to my mom who was sitting at the picnic table nearby. “Look, I caught a kitten!”
Her face lit up as she took him from my hands, commenting on how adorable he was. To my joy, she brought him up the peeling wooden steps and into our second-floor unit while I bounded close behind. She went straight to the kitchen sink and started bathing him with dish soap, removing his fleas and dirt. I was glued to her side, falling in love with the tiny grey floof that had to be three pounds wet. “Can we keep him?” I pleaded, not imaging what I’d do if I had to watch him go back outside. “I dunno…” she said, probably thinking of the cost of a new animal and her allergies. “But, you’re already washing him!” I pointed out. She couldn’t argue with that, and so he was officially mine.
Of course, the next step was to buy cat supplies. We brought him out with us so he didn’t get lost in the house or do anything crazy while we were gone. Without a cat carrier, I held him against my chest and he didn’t protest. I carried him around PetSmart and followed my mom around, wondering what I should name him. Cloud or Shadow, I thought, something cool like that. A few people walked up to tell me how cute he was. I saw a nearby cat tree and placed him on one of the platforms, watching him look around nervously. “Is that a real cat?” Someone asked behind me. “Um, yes!” I said, thinking that was a pretty funny question to ask someone with a small kitten in the pet store.
When we arrived at Walmart, he let his voice be known. He started yowling as we shopped, and I gently pet him and shushed him in the makeup isle, laughing nervously, feeling worried we’d get kicked out. He had an impressive set of vocal cords, his voice starting deep in his chest and raising to a loud crescendo. My heart hurt for him and I didn’t want him to be scared. I felt his distress, holding him close to my chest to comfort him. He was in a strange, florescent land with strange creatures. I wanted him to know he was safe with me. Thankfully, we got through the store quickly - I don’t even remember the ride home, just his cries, my worry for him, and the feeling of him in my arms.
Upon our return home, we opened the conversation on what to name him. My mom’s boyfriend at the time, who was also my younger brother’s dad, happened to be at our house. He said he always wanted a cat named Buttons. I highly disliked my mom’s boyfriend and didn’t want him to have any say in what my cat was named. I said I wanted to name him Shadow or Cloud, something cool like that. My mom disapproved, saying those names were “too dark.” In my disappointment, I couldn’t come up with anything better, so Buttons it was. She has since apologized for not letting me name him what I wanted to, but I had long forgiven her. Buttons turned out to be the perfect name.
I caught Buttons in 2008, the night before sixth grade started and Summer break was officially ending. He was only six weeks old, so he must have been a Leo, which totally tracks. He was beautiful, dramatic, and loved attention. When he entered my life, he was the tiniest grey puff that fit into the palms of my smaller-than-average hands. That first night together, I tucked him in the crook of my arm and drifted to sleep. We stayed together just like that, all night. This was one of the best moments of my life up to that point. I always loved animals more than anything. I wanted to be one - I ran around on all fours pretending I was a wolf or a lion or a horse, depending on the movie I was into at the time. By the time I was 11, I had outgrown this behavior, but I still dreamed of having a spiritual bond with an animal. My first night with Buttons, I felt the connection I longed for.
In our house, we had two cockatiels named Forrest Gump and Scooter, as well as a dog named Cody. Cody was a Shelty-Papillon mutt that we rescued from the Humane Society a few years back. We introduced Cody and Buttons slowly, worried that Buttons would be afraid of Cody since he was so much larger. We started by placing Buttons in the little dog house that belonged to my Build-A-Bear Border Collie named Zoey. We let Cody come up and sniff inside, making sure he didn’t overcrowd or get too excited. We had no concerns about Cody harming Buttons. Cody loved other animals and he immediately loved Buttons. After his excitement calmed, they were able to be around each other freely. Immediately, they became best friends, chasing each other around the house and cuddling while they napped. Both of them would sleep in my bed with me - I took pride in being the chosen one of the house.
It was just me, my mom, and my younger brother living together. There were a few times my brother and I swapped bedrooms, and Buttons would stick with me. Even when I had a loft bed, he taught himself how to climb up and down the steep ladder so we could sleep together. As I got older, he would cry at the door when I left for school or work, and almost never left my side when I returned home. After a long day of high school, I went straight to my bed to rest and unwind. I would lay on my stomach and scroll on my phone or text my friends while Buttons curled up on my butt. He was really there through it all: the awkward pre-teen years, the sixth grade bullies, the middle school crushes. I had my first kiss, went to prom, and dealt with the drama of high school boyfriends. Friends had come and gone and I grew up. Buttons was always the most stable thing in my life.
Buttons experienced household tragedies alongside us. When I was about 16, Cody had a sudden and tragic death when he was hit by a car on the nearby highway. Everyone was shaken. My mom, brother, and I sobbed together for days. The loss hit Buttons hard, too - he groomed himself bald due to stress. From the middle of his chest down, he had little fur on his belly and hind legs. He lost his best friend and was facing grief for the first time. The vet assured us that over-grooming was a normal reaction to stress and he would be okay. Sure enough, the fur did grow back, but it took a long time. It was incredible to watch another animal experience death and process it in their own way. Their bond was undeniable and I felt for Buttons. This shared experience brought us closer together.
Household instability touches every living thing. I did not always live in a safe house growing up, so neither did Buttons. When I was 18, my mom was experiencing domestic violence by her boyfriend. This was someone she had been with for about six months, maybe a year. My brother and I weren’t aware of what was happening until the night her boyfriend was arrested. When I processed this event in therapy as an adult, I worked through the terror and the grief, feeling the pain until I could tolerate the memory. Now, looking back, what remains is gratitude for our survival and awareness of Buttons’ proximity. Although he was hiding from the danger, I feel the comfort of his presence. I wish I could see that night through his eyes, feel his own fear and confusion. Buttons was more than a pet - he experienced trauma with us. I always saw him as an equal creature in the world with me, our lives intertwined.
That night happened in 2015 towards the end of my senior year. Our lives, shaken up as they were, continued on. I graduated and spent the Summer enjoying my time with my boyfriend and friends. Fall was approaching fast, and suddenly I was about to leave for college and start my life on my own. Now that I was moving out, my mom and brother didn’t need a three-bedroom place, and it would be easier to find a new apartment without pets. My older brother took in Forrest Gump (Scooter had since died), and I had to find somewhere for Buttons to go. Thankfully, my paternal grandparents had spent 10+ years taking in my dad’s and uncle’s animals when their situations changed, so they were immediately on board with caring for Buttons. They only lived an hour from college and I regularly visited them all of my life, so Buttons wouldn’t be far. Plus, they had a cat and a dog, so he’d make new friends!
Buttons was turning seven and I was turning 19 a few months later. We were about to spend five years apart. I had house trained him, handled his care, and knew him as my companion. He was a secure presence during unstable times. He provided me with unconditional love through some of the hardest events of my life. Although I was excited to move out and live independently for the first time, I wished it didn’t come with our separation. I want to unspool more memories with him from these first seven years, but memory recall isn't always easy for me. Just writing this has brought back long-forgotten moments that I cherish the return of. I have photos to look back on, and feelings, and the knowledge that he was there. There would be so much more time. The story of my life with Buttons has only just begun.
