Wednesday, February 16, 2005

3

Max is going to his new home today. Funny, crazy Max who will bite his own back leg if it scratches him. His green-gold eyes are going to stare demandingly at a new person tomorrow morning when he wants his breakfast "Nnneowwww." His soft white fur is going to engrain itself in somebody else's couch.

Zoe is going to miss him, I think. She's going to look at me with her sad puppy-dog eyes and want to know where her playmate went. Who's going to terrorize her now? Who's going to fight from the safety of the nearest chair, batting his paws at her as she barks in glee?

I'm gonna miss him, too. He grew on me this past month after I took pity on him in the Wal-Mart parking lot that night. The skinny, hungry, white-and-gray adolescent cat with the loud MEOW has become a fat, content, fuzzy adult lap-cat with a penchant for sprawling in the middle of the floor (right where you need to step) like it was his kingdom.

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