He was a big, dumb guy. He was clumsy and bossy. He was the cutest.
He was my friend, Max.
He slept with me every night since that first scary Christmas eve in 2003 when he curled up in my hair and kneaded the top of my head all night.
He bossed the lady cats around even then. He weighed about 6 ounces then.
Today, I was here, on the computer with my back to the bed. Like everyday, he was lying on the foot of the bed, napping, waiting for me to move, so he could follow.
I heard him jump down and paid no mind.
A few minutes later I turned around, no more than 5 minutes. There he lay, dead on the floor next to the bed. Maybe what I heard was him falling, I’ll never know.
I called for my husband and started CPR. My husband checked his airway, it was clear. I listened with a stethoscope, no heart beat, he was gone.
He had had bladder crystals about a year ago, but with antibiotics and a food change, he seemed to fully recover.
He threw up a hair ball this morning, but nothing else seemed to be wrong. He played with my shoelaces this morning while I was dressing.
My husband wants to know why, but I don’t. It won’t bring him back. We buried him back behind the shed, where it’s shady and all the birds hang out. I made a little, heart-shaped stepping stone last summer, so we made that his marker.
Maybe if I’d just turned around when I heard him jump down. Maybe lots of things, but in the end, it all means nothing. My friend is peaceful now.
I know there’s more I want to say, but, right now, I can’t see the keyboard so well.
Thanks for listening.
