Posted: 12/24/03

Max ó one cool cat with a mission in life

There was never any getting around the fact that Max was one cool cat. When it came to coolness, Max personified the word.

In the six years that I knew Max it was his coolness and laid back personality that defined him. Little could rattle the old boy and he carried himself with the style and grace that kept him cool.

He was a big old cat, but graceful on his paws. His thick Angora coat made him look like a big old boy, too, but he was close to 20 pounds in his prime. It was never an obstacle in making the leap to a chair, couch or bed where a lap or a soft pillow was awaiting his arrival and the hours he would wile away in cat dreamland.

Maxís soft eyes, deep purr and laid-back personality won me over on the first meeting. It was the same for others who came into the house, too. If Max would have needed a new home, the takers for this lover boy would have to get in line or throw their name in the hat to win this prize.

That was never going to happen, of course. Max was a part of the family and he always would be.

When an old college friend from Atlanta came to visit, Max quickly became his fast friend. It may have been that Max recognized Uncle Don as a cat lover or it may have simply been that willing lap. On his occasional visits, it just may have been Max that Don was most pleased to see.

It was the same for any animal lover who walked through our door. Max was the star attraction, the cool character in which they could never get enough.

We often joked that Max might live forever. He led the life of a king and his stress level was something we should all have.

A typical day for Max would include: a nap, a trip to the food bowl, a nap, a trip to the bay windows for some bird watching and sun, the food bowl, another nap, the litter box, more food, another nap, more food, and, well, you get the picture.

Life was simple for Max.

But there was more to Max ó much more than the simple things.

Max came to the family in the mid-to-late 1980s when he was snared in a live trap. He was a stray but quickly hit the lottery when he moved in with Marie. She was in need of a companion at the time and Max was the perfect partner. She spoiled him rotten but he returned the love that she lavished on him.

The two were inseparable for years, be it at Marieís home in St. Paul or at the cabin near Brainerd. The little summer home on Ruth Lake was a favorite for Marie and Max.

They would spend days there, lounging on the dock or napping in lawn chairs and on the small window bed that looked out over the lake. Max claimed the bed for his own personal use but would share the spot with anyone willing to snuggle.

The summer routine for Max and Marie ended in 1995. A car crash on US-169 claimed Marieís life. For some reason, Max was left at the cabin on that trip to the Twin Cities.

It may have been more than coincidental that Max lived on and did not perish in the crash.

In the years since Marieís passing, Max has remained a family conduit to the past for her children, grandchildren and the in-laws. I never met Marie but the love and attention family members would lavish on Max demonstrated their love for this mother and grandmother. Max remained a direct link to a loved one.

When Max would make the leap to the lap of a granddaughter or push his face into the beard of Marieís son stretched out on that comfy cabin bed, he was a living connection to the woman who had left this world all too soon and so unnecessarily.

You would see the continuing bond on every family visit. Max was usually the first to get a greeting and would be quickly swooped into loving arms. They could never get enough and he was equally willing to return the affection.

Many within the family were aware that Max was slipping and losing ground to a cancer that had weakened his body, dimmed the gleam in his green eyes and silenced that robust purr that was his trademark.

Max went to sleep for the final time on Dec. 14. How long he lived we arenít sure but Max was probably close to 16 ó perhaps older.

Some will say that losing a trusted and loving companion, even an animal, during the Christmas season is hard. It is without a doubt, but yet it is also a season that is filled with love.

For Christians everywhere, Christmas is the season marking the saviorís birth. It is a season that fills us with hope.

Max is no longer able to be with us and letting go is not easy. But in a sense we believe his work here is completed.

If there is a place in heaven for animals ó and there must be ó Max is reunited with Marie and his forever favorite lap. That only seems right.

If Christmas is a season of miracles ó and we believe it is ó it is the right time to let Max go. For the many years he spent with us, he was a friend to love, a lap buddy to cherish and a connection to the past. He gave as much as he got.

It may not have been by accident that Max stepped into that live trap so many years ago.

It was his first step on a mission that would be so important to so many. Max strolled through this world giving love, getting love and forever remaining one cool cat.

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