Saturday, July 31, 2010

Everybody wants to be a cat.



Max had this world absolutely figured out. Max, the cat that largely thought he was a dog, the one who’d always respond when you called his name. His life was a relatively simple one filled with habits and the simplest of oft-repeated patterns. Perhaps that’s what endeared us to him … that he didn’t deter from the cat we grew to know, year after year. He taught us consistency.

Observe some of what made Max the cat he was, then, now that he’s gone.

Put weight on in the cold months to keep warm, dropped pounds like crazy during the warm ones to keep cooler; went from cuddly to sphinx in no time. Slept in his bed atop the freezer occasionally, slept atop a warm car hood for as long as the engine allowed it to stay so, leaving telltale signs of his footsteps cross the windshield. Tried to come inside for a few minutes to hang out with his people, either by sitting patiently outside a door or slipping in when nobody was looking. Purred loudly enough and acted cute enough, to the point someone would pick him up and comb the hairballs out of his coat. And someone always did, no matter how much static electricity he zapped him or her with in the process. Caught a bird with clawless paws when the dry cat food and other awful-smelling fish treats weren’t enough, then proceeded to eat it until only the bones and feathers remained. Tolerated a pretty hyperactive dog. Established long, enduring friendships in the neighborhood, friends that would feed and love and feed some more. Always came home. Never forgot where home was.

I can’t get caught up in how many years he was with us, as the reports vary depending on who’s doing the speaking, but it’s a little hard to recall when he wasn’t, you know? He was the big, gray, sauntering thing with sleepy yellow eyes that would make himself at home on your chest and think nothing of raising his tail and putting his cat butt directly in your face. A respecter of persons, he was not.

Is he missed? Certainly. And, going back to Utah, it’ll be hard not to feel the void left in his absence. It does make some kind of sense he was buried in the backyard there, however, next to a family dog we all remember as well. I can imagine some short conversations still playing out over yonder sometimes, much like the ones he’d have while alive.

“Hey, Max, how’s it going?” *meowrrr*

“What’s the latest?” *meowrrr*

“That right?” *meowr*

Thanks, Max, for being absolutely true to the cat and friend you were.


2 comments:

Mel said...

Couldn't have said it better myself. Bravo. I miss him already.

sarah nicole said...

: ( Coco and I send our condolences.