The Best Pussy I Ever Had

Max is the best cat I’ve ever had.

I found him as a tiny kitten utterly lost, crying and stumbling across the back lawn one Saturday. A scrap of black fur inconveniently placed in front of my mower. We bottle fed him for a while and he pulled through just fine. The girls were so little then, everyone got their ba-bas, and no doubt Max thinks he’s one of our kids. He’s also calm and affectionate with visiting kids and toddlers and always quietly leads them on the guided tour of the house, ending in the kitchen and him staring at the drawer with the cat treats.

Max is exceptionally smart, knowing everyone’s pattern of movements and sleeping schedules. During the week, he will climb on Jennifer in bed by 730am to make sure she’s up. On the weekend, Max sleeps in too. On Jennifer’s work from home days he sits on the chair next to her and naps on and off, with periodic prompts for strokes and cuddles. He greets everyone as they come in the house as a sort of feline doorman. Artful Dodger style, he’ll will hit up both girls and Jennifer in turn and fleece all three of them into giving him cat treats within a half hour span. I figure he gets enough treats, plus I don’t want to be nagged for treats all day, so I pass on treat giving for the most part. I’d see him staring at the cat treat drawer in the kitchen and I’d just pretend I didn’t see him.

As a result, Max started using a system of asking to go out the back door and then immediately asking to come back in, and then gave me that “oh while you’re up and I have your attention…” look and would walk to the cat treat drawer and stare at it. He got me a few times with this I admit.

Being behavior minded, I fixed him of his “outside-inside-get me treats” plan by letting him out the backdoor and then simply walking away for 10-15 minutes before letting him back in. If he wants out, he can go out. If he wants treats, it’s an annoying waste of time for him. I also only give Max treats once a day – usually when he is not asking for them - and then ignore his requests for more treats. As a result he doesn’t keep bugging me for treats. But he does bug everyone else because they just go “awwww Maxy-Waxy wantz moar num-nums” and pile them in front of him like Cleopatra buying off Julius Caesar.

Using a method known as “lightly tossing”, Max has learned to not climb over me in bed. Everyone else wakes up with a chance of sharing a bed with Max. He’s a ah… close sleeper and puts his head on your pillow about a third of the time. So sorry Max, but the facesitting position has been filled.

His other name is ”Inconvenient Placement Cat”. The family catch phrase being “Inconvenient Placement Cat is placed inconveniently.” Max has learned that he can sprawl in a high traffic area and everyone will step over him and he’s quite safe to do so. The middle of the hall. On the stairs. Doorways. Anywhere you want to put your feet, there he is lying blissfully semi-conscious. Unless you want to pick up him and move him, people are formally required to perform a clog dance to get him to move, which is quite difficult when one is moving a sofa. 

However after a several quite accidental cat punting episodes, Max has learned that black cats should not be placed inconveniently in dark rooms at night when I’m not wearing my glasses. The eight foot path between my side of the bed and the bathroom being notable for said punting episodes. I always feel bad after these events and check and cuddle him and the last couple times I swear he looked at me to say, “No actually that was totally my fault for sleeping there. Don’t beat yourself up about it. But if it would make you feel better, maybe we could get through this awkward moment if you gave me some treats.”

Max is getting older so we don’t play rough together quite so much now. It usually starts as a game of me playfully pinning his tail or back legs and just holding them. Flap-flap-flap-flap-flap goes Max’s tail on the floor giving me the warning that he’ll play rough if I want to play rough, but there’s no crying. At some point it’s all on and he moves unbelievably fast and pounces on my hand and arm. I seriously have no hope of avoiding him. He’s all muscle, claws and teeth and it’s both scary and amazing to watch him. I have a couple of minor scars from him, but if he really wanted to hurt me I’d have stopped messing with him long ago. I just view it as all my fault for messing with him and get through the awkward moment by having some ice cream as a treat.

If Max doesn’t want to play rough, he just gets up, walks away and ignores me in favor of one of Jennifer and the girls. Which is exactly what I do to him, about the behavior I don’t want to see of his.

He’s a very quiet cat too. He just wanders around calmly and does what he wants to do. It’s like he’s reserved meowing for emergencies or something. If he does meow at all loudly, the entire family snaps to instant attention and checks on Max.

You can love him and cuddle him for hours on end and he’ll soak it all in. On the days Jennifer and the girls are all out somewhere and I’m home alone for most of the day, I break my one treat policy and give him treats three or four times. He’s a good cat, being good, so he can have treats.

I’d tell you about about our other cat, but he’s as dumb as mud. He looks at the cat door like it’s a frakking Rubik’s Cube.

Jennifer: The “no threesome” rule has been enforced with Max as well. He waits right outside our bedroom door now before he comes in to say goodnight.