While living in Miami, Carlos and I were visited by our neighbor, the Witch. She wasn't a real witch but she always wore black and was not what you would call friendly. She used to call the HOA on us because we left yard refuse by the curb too long, so she was more of a bitch than a witch, I guess.
Max was diagnosed with kidney issues and wasn’t keen on the new diet, or the medication, and so his health diminished. When we had him at the vet’s office last month his numbers had gone up and the vet suggested that all we could do was make him comfortable and happy until that day came.
Yesterday. MaxGoldberg was sitting alone, head bowed, unmoving. He didn’t eat, didn’t sleep with us, didn’t get on the bed. As I worked in the office, he came in and meowed several times and it didn’t sound right, didn’t sound good. I told Carlos I didn’t like Max like this, in pain, isolation, hiding, and so we made that decision.
At the vet’s we found out that he’d lost almost two pounds in the last month, so we knew this was the right thing to do, no matter how much it hurt. We held him and kissed him and cried and told him we loved him, and then he was gone.
But enough about that … let’s talk MaxGoldberg through the years. He was our most neurotic cat, tearing through the house and throwing himself on the bed like a spoiled teenager every time he was reprimanded. He was the cat who hair-balled the most and would, yes, run down the hall and throw himself on the bed after leaving his mess because he knew his daddies weren’t happy.
But he was also the one who would sit in my lap and when I asked if he wanted a kiss, he would turn his face down and let me kiss him on top of his head. He was also a Desk Cat, who loved nothing more that settling in front of the computer screen, or behind it, while we worked on the computer. He sat with us in the evenings, going back and forth between our two laps; he slept with us every night, and lately he would make a nest between both our heads and fall asleep with Carlos and me petting him; he sat at the breakfast table while we ate, having his morning chat. He loved us, but strangers he almost always hid from, under a bed, until they left his house and he’d come out again.
He was a beautiful, sweet, neurotic, loving, crazy cat that lived with us for 17 years … until yesterday ... and I will miss that face forever.
You were loved and you loved us right back.
PS I'm going to take a few days, I think, before I feel like blogging again.