Well, I haven't blogged for awhile and I am sorry to have to resume with some sad news. Our dear Max, the orange cat in the DosGatos picture, has passed away. About a year ago, Max was diagnosed with fibro-sarcoma in the form of a large malignant tumor. He underwent surgery but the prognosis was that he would not live out the year. Well, he beat that and up until about three weeks ago, we thought that he was going to beat it completely. Then his cancer returned with a vengeance and his suffering ended today, May 11. Doris and I are extremely saddened by his passing but we are both happy that he was with us these last 12 years.
We got Max from Nike Animal Rescue Foundation (NARF) in mid-1997 when he was about eight weeks old. Max and his two sisters were raised by a foster family after his mother died when he was three weeks old. I had always wanted an orange cat, and Max was an orange tabby (though Doris always referred to him as butterscotch). He was cute and he loved people. Unfortunately, Muffin didn't think he was so cute and never did any more than barely tolerate his presence. As he grew, we realized that he had just about the longest and densest fur of any cat we had seen. That hair, combined with his general lack of personal hygiene, made grooming Max a never ending but mostly fruitless task.
Max sleeping in a hat (about nine weeks old)
Baby Max could sleep anywhere, anytime (about nine weeks)
Max was a big cat, peaking out at over 19 pounds. He had many aliases but Sweetie Boy was the most common and the most descriptive. Though he loved almost all people, he loved Doris most of all. He liked to sleep on her pillow with his body wrapped around her head like a hat with ear muffs. If she sat in a chair, he wanted to curl up on her lap. He liked to stretch out on your body and touch your face with his paw. And he had the best purr. It is so soothing and comforting to pet a cat and listen to that purr.
Young Max and Muffin sleeping in with Doris.
Max loved being outdoors. When we lived in Santa Clara, he would wander all over the neighborhood, sometimes more than a block away. His wandering worried us a lot and we often combed the block when he didn't come home at a reasonable hour. Once, when he didn't come home, we called the Humane Society, and sure enough, he was there. We bailed him out and then I went door to door to find why someone had trapped him and sent him to kitty jail. I finally found the culprit - his excuse was that Max was hunting and killing wild doves that frequented his backyard. He didn't like this very normal cat behavior and then went on to tell me how he was a dove hunter himself and enjoyed the "sport" of shotgunning those creatures. He didn't see the irony!
First time outside and he immediately climbed a tree (about three months old)
Max returning from a foray into the neighbor's yard (about one year old)
Since I work at home, my day was never complete without spending some unproductive time with Max on my lap. He always had to be in the same position: head on my left, feet facing me. He would sink his claws into my side and proceed to knead my torso. It was painful for me but heaven for Max; he would purr and purr. At night, we often fought over part of the bed - he liked to sleep on the corner of the bed where I liked to put my feet. Even when I won the battle at night, I would wake in the morning to find him stretched out on his corner with my feet moved to another part of the bed.
Max was not too fond of fast-moving little people and usually went outside when the grandchildren visited. He hated the sound of loud machinery; lawnmowers and vacuum cleaners terrified him. And he liked to bully Muffin for no discernible reason, reinforcing her disdain. But otherwise, he was quite mellow and mostly liked to just hang out. Want to watch TV? Max would watch with you, albeit with his eyes closed. Eating something tasty? Max would be glad to share it with you. Want to sleep? Sure, move over a little for Max.
When we moved to Morgan Hill in 2003, Max finally had the yard that he wanted and he almost never went beyond it's boundaries. He let Muffin have the house and he took the outdoors. He spent most of his time outside in one of his favorite sleeping spots: the front deck in the corner, the back deck against the railing, and behind the back deck in a bare spot under the trees. He is buried under the latter.
Max in his Morgan Hill backyard (seven years)
Max, we miss you. And we always will.
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