Happy 2010, Max supporters!

I hope your holiday season was wonderful and that you rang in the new year safely.

I am very happy to report that this past month, unlike last month, was not a country music month for Max. In fact, it was more of a mushy-romance-song-type month. Now, before you get your hopes up, the Max man still hates his feline roommates (okay, maybe hate is a strong word, but he certainly has no use for them). He does, however, have a strong love for his biped companion (read: your humble correspondent). Allow me to explain.

I usually visit Max once a week, on Tuesday. Most of the time, he is in Adoption Room 2 hanging out on the settee as his roommates – who now include Angelo, Cypress, and Trey — stay out of his path. These visits normally last 15 to 20 minutes before Max either gets bored, or falls asleep.

On the Tuesday before Christmas, though, Max was still in the apartment. Sharon led me back to the apartment, showed me how Max drinks out of the faucet of the kitchen sink, then left me to visit with Max. Wow. What a love-bug! Max is all about the head-butts, and making sure that he was attached to me at all times. His favorite thing was to rest the top of his head against my forehead. As I left after an hour of Max love, I could see it in his eyes that he heard nothing except the sound of Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes off You”.

Because I spent the week between Christmas and New Year’s in North Carolina, I stopped in to see Max on the Monday after New Year’s. At first, Max was ecstatic to see me. Visions of Frankie Valli swarmed in Max’s head. I sat on the settee next to Max and petted him as he told me what Santa brought. I was so focused on Max that I did not see Trey hop up next to me. The next thing I knew there was a cat — Trey – sitting on my lap.

That was it; now I had done it. I had scorned the Max man, and hell hath no fury like a Max scorned! From that point forward, Max wanted nothing to do with me. His conversational meows turned to meows of warning. Even after Trey got down and went back to his bed, Max was angry. I decided to leave the room to let him cool off, but when I returned, Angelo tried to love on me. Max swatted at Angelo and began meowing angrily at his tail. Realizing that this was not going well, I left, and Max replaced Frankie Valli with Joan Jett’s “I Hate Myself for Loving You”. Boy, was he mad!

The next day, Tuesday, I stopped by for my regular visit, hoping that he had forgiven me.
Because they were cleaning Adoption Room two, Max stayed in the apartment. I nervously went back and opened the bedroom door to see Max prowling around. I sat in the chair, and…

… all was forgiven. For the next hour, Max was my best buddy, excitedly head-butting me, resting the top of his head against my forehead, and purring up a storm. Doves and bluebirds flew around us in a circle, and Frankie Valli played to a crescendo in the background. Okay, maybe I am a little bit over dramatic, but Max sure was happy.

My encounters with Max this month served to reinforce what I have believed from the beginning: Max is going to be an amazing companion for a very lucky person. I can see him as a buddy to a sweet and patient old man, joyfully conversing as the old man fishes. Regardless of the type of person who will (I hope) one day adopt Max, I am certain that Max will be not only a very loyal companion, but one with an infinite amount of love to give.

I thank you for your continued generosity and support of our sweet boy.