Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
We were a little worried yesterday morning, when Phoebe wasn’t at the door as usual. Right on the heels of Max’s disappearance, it would have been too much to lose Phoebe too. Just the other night we heard a coyote in the distance and thought it was a crappy omen.
In a little while, though, Phoebe shows up and we launch our usual routine, my wife, Sue, and our dog, Hitch, heading out for Hitch’s morning business, Phoebe tagging along. I’m inside making the coffee and screaming at MSNBC, and when I turn back to the window I see Sue plucking a couple of dry twigs off the Japanese maple, Hitch coming up over the ridge. And a minute later, when I turn back again …
There’s Max sitting with Phoebe on the front porch! Hitch must have stumbled on him down below and invited him back.
I run out and scoop him up, immediately turn him upside down, which he likes. And he doesn’t look any the worse for wear, after about nine days in the woods. He’s purring lightly, a lot less than usual, but he seems to be okay and hasn’t gotten into any tangles while he’s been gone. His owner tells us later that someone had spotted him sleeping on the hillside down from her house, and her nonchalance about it, now that he’s back, makes us want to cuff her but good. We’re halfway ready to ask if we can buy the cats from her.
Anyway, I thought you’d all like to know that reports of Max’s death are exaggerated. He lives, for the time being, and we’re going to treat him like the prince he is so he’ll come to us when times are tough instead of running away. Here he is chowing down yesterday after his reappearance: