Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
Our old friend, Max, stopped by yesterday. He’s the neighbor cat who used to hang around our place all the time, napping in our closet for hours, enjoying an occasional dollop of whipped cream, letting me cradle him like big baby and purring so loudly it sounded like a truck rumbling up the hill outside. Then something happened and he vanished. Remember?
We think what happened was, his human mother went away on a long trip last year and left her animals to endure a cold snap outdoors. Max’s sister, Phoebe, relied on us, and we let her spend whole days inside with us. The dog, Sam, was relegated to the neighbor’s garage and suffered through thirty-degree nights all alone. But Max? Max said, Screw it, I’m outta here. And he apparently found a new home nearby.
About every six weeks or so he comes around to visit, though. Unfortunately, he’s a different animal now. He’s lost his joie de vivre. He no longer purrs. He’s seen some things.
Plus he gets fussy with Phoebe now and they hiss at each other and slap-box until Max decides he’s had enough and leaves again. Our dog is baffled by the whole thing. All three of them used to be great friends.
I’m glad Max has a home, but I sure wish he could have stayed the bon vivant he used to be. I miss that guy.