BUSTER'S GIFT

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James offers us a wonderful story today about a special dog who
brings needed comfort for those who are about to pass on. It's a
gift -- but as you'll see, there is more than just one gift in
today's tale.


BUSTER'S GIFT
by James Colasanti Jr.

Sister Mary sat at her battered old desk holding the stack of
bills in her right hand and her imported wooden-bead rosary in her
left.
She had been in these predicaments before and had always managed
get through them. Plus she knew worrying would not make them go away.
And as much of a believer as she was, she didn't think she could
make the unpaid bills disappear with prayer alone. She knew it would
take more, but at this point, she didn't see any miracles on the
horizon.
* * *
The knock on her door was a welcome interruption and Sister
Angelina entered carrying a small box and the daily mail.
"Sister Mary," Sister Angelina began, "There is an old black dog
at the back gate and I do believe he is hungry. May I take some of
our leftovers to feed him in the backyard?"
Sister Angelina loved all animals. She knew that they were
God's way of bringing comfort and companionship to people. She kept
the bird feeders filled in the gardens and always left out food for
any stray animals that came by St. Patrick's Hospice Center.
The nuns at St. Patrick's were a dedicated group serving the
needs of people who were at the end of their lives. They carried on
a tradition of dignity with peace for the families and friends of the
loved ones who were about to leave this earth.
Sister Mary replied, "Of course feed the dog! Would you ever
expect me to say no? Sister Angelina, did you see what is written on
this box?"
"Yes Sister, it says 'to be opened only after the death of
MARTHA MARY MILLS.' Mrs. Mills is one of our patients in the hospice
ward. Perhaps you should ask her what is in the box," she said while
walking out the door.
* * *
Sister Angelina let the black dog into the kitchen. She had
placed the leftovers on a tray on the floor in front of the pantry
where the elderly dog began gobbling up the food.
"Well, Buster (that was Sister Angelina's generic name for all
male dogs, two-legged and four-legged alike) looks like you haven't
eaten in a week."
The black dog, a Lab-Terrier mix, looked up at her, barked once,
and then continued searching the tray for any remnants of food. When
he had licked all of the plates clean, including the tray, Buster sat
on his haunches and looked up at the nun. His graying muzzle gave
him a dignified air. She knew that he had left his mark on many
different fire hydrants on many different occasions.
"Buster, do you want to follow me today on my rounds?"
The sister knew that most legitimate therapy dogs have to pass a
course, be up-to-date on their shots, and be bathed. But she also
knew that most of the patients at St. Patrick's did not have a lot of
time left and petting an animal was a great source of comfort and
solace. She would take care of the bath and other things tomorrow.
So she invited the dog to follow her and he did.
After visiting some of the other residents they arrived at Mr.
Franklin Thomas' room. Buster immediately stood and put his front
paws on the side of the bed, turned toward Sister Angelina and barked.
"You want up with Mr. Thomas?" she asked. Buster barked again.
The nun picked up the small dog and placed him next to Mr. Thomas on
the bed. Mr. Thomas stirred.
"You have a visitor, Mr. Thomas. Someone who would like a
little petting," the sister said to the still man. Sister Angelina
did not know if Mr. Thomas could hear her but she never let an
opportunity to speak with the patients go by. Sometimes she felt
compelled to shout but she always wanted them to know that there was
always someone near.
Instinctively the old man's hand began to move seeking out the
small black dog. When he reached the dog's fur he pulled his hand
back in a reflexive petting movement. Sister Angelina was amazed.
She left the room to seek out the sister-on-duty.
When she returned a few minutes later with Sister Bernadette all
was still in the room. Buster had his head on Mr. Thomas's leg and
he was whining softly almost like a crying baby. Sister Bernadette
checked Mr. Thomas's vitals but there was no sign of life. He had
passed on sometime after Buster had gotten on the bed.
Sister Angelina picked Buster up from the bed and put him on the
floor. She looked at him and said, "Well I guess you knew his time
was coming, didn't you?" Buster barked back at her. Sister did not
think of it as a reply, but rather as an acknowledgment that she was
speaking to him.
* * *
Sister Mary walked down the hall toward the infirmary. Mrs.
Mills's room was coming up on the left. She hesitated outside the
door not knowing what she would say or would ask. She knew Mrs.
Mills was cognizant of her surroundings at times but she was also
going in and out of a coma at a regular rate. Finally she knocked
softly and let herself into the room.
Mrs. Mills was awake listening to the soft music serenading the room.
"Mrs. Mills, I received a package today -- from you. Can you
tell me what is inside?"
"It is something special for St. Patrick's. Someday, Sister
Mary, we'll share a little secret, but for now let me get some rest."
That was the last thing she said before entering a coma.
* * *
Sister Bernadette let Buster into the backyard for his nature
call and waited by the door until he returned. Buster raced down the
hall to Mrs. Mills' room, sat, and barked to be let into the room.
There again, he stood and placed his front paws on the side of the
bed. Sister Bernadette picked him up and placed him next to Mrs.
Mills on the bed.
Buster lay quietly beside the comatose woman and never moved.
Sister Bernadette checked on them both every 30 minutes. Buster
would open his eyes but he would never raise his head. This went on
all night long.
At sunrise, when Sister Bernadette came into the room, Buster
was whimpering again as he had in Mr. Thomas' room. Mrs. Mills had
passed on sometime between her visits to the room. Sister picked up
Buster and placed him on the floor. She did not speak to the dog and
the dog did not bark but followed her as they both left the room.
* * *
In the hall, Sister Bernadette looked at Buster and said, "Let's
go see Sister Mary." Buster's nails clicked on the shiny linoleum
floor as they walked the infirmary halls to Sister Mary's office.
The sister knocked softly and an immediate reply to enter was
forthcoming.
Sister Bernadette said, "I believe you can open that package
now. Mrs. Mills has left us."
Sister Mary opened her bottom desk drawer and took out the small
package. With her letter-opener she slit the tape on the ends and
opened the box. Two small pieces of paper fell out of the box and
onto her desk.
"For my fine care during my final moments, a gift for St.
Patrick's," signed by Mrs. Martha Mary Mills.
Sister Mary sat at her desk holding the gift from the lonely old
woman. She had never seen so many zeros in one place -- a cashier's
check made payable to the St. Patrick's Hospice Center for $1,000,000.
"Well, Sister, looks like this will put St. Patrick's back in
the black. And, Buster, I guess there's an extra bone or two in this
for you too!"

-- James Colasanti Jr.

___________________________________________
James is a lead clerk with Barnes & Noble Booksellers. A former
president of the Animal Rescue & Foster Program in Greensboro, NC,
James shares his home with a housemate and 13 dogs. His stories have
appeared in New York Dog Magazine, Dog & Kennel Magazine, Best
Friends Magazine, Pasta Magazine, Greensboro News/ Record, and can
also be found in the Petwarmers archives.
___________________________________________

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