A friend lost a friend this weekend.
He was a loveable soft, gray furball of Cheshire infused smiles and Mufasa sized yawns bought for eleven dollars and a Pokemon card by a wide eyed boy a lifetime and several girls ago. Deemed Max, this fearless tom cat used his bantering paws to tame three yipping Chihuahuas and win over a pair of twin Texan boys, a green eyed sister, and the begrudging acceptance of a soft hearted father and graciously indulgent mother. It should also be noted he was a tireless Title VII advocate, discriminating against neither bird nor mouse as an appropriate gift for his owners.
From all signs, he went out as he spent his days doing—sleeping.
I had only met Max once before, so I can’t speak to all his virtues or talents. The best I can say is the truth—I’m not a cat person, but Max actually made me consider being one.
