Max the Cat died on Sunday at home 5/7/2006. He lived well - very smart and thoughtful, with so much love. For 14 years he was one of my closest friends. He's lived on a boat, gotten seasick, fallen into the ocean, run freely in the desert and destroyed more than his share of cat toys. He slept tightly under my arm every night and woke me up every morning. Whenever I'd come home, he'd run up to me with a long meow (telling me he missed me) and then demand some of my time. But... he could still kill a bird in seconds and eat it in minutes. I'm sure he's up in cat heaven hanging with those petite female cats with soft fur and supple pink cat lips.
We met when he was just a few weeks old when he worked hard to try to follow me home in a snowstorm. He just kept falling into the snow and disappearing and I felt so guilty I took him home. The vet figured that he likely had not eaten in days and would have likely died that night.
We met when he was just a few weeks old when he worked hard to try to follow me home in a snowstorm. He just kept falling into the snow and disappearing and I felt so guilty I took him home. The vet figured that he likely had not eaten in days and would have likely died that night.
