“Can I have him?”
“He’s already yours.”
Those are the words that my Mom said to me the day we went to pick up my cat Max. That day was almost 17 years ago, a number that’s really hard to believe.
Back then, I wanted a pet of my own so badly. I’m the youngest of 3, and by then my sister had her cat, Princess, and her sibling, Sparky, and my brother had his dog, Jake. I asked my parents if I could have one of my own now, and wished all the wishes that someday soon it might be true.
One afternoon, my Mom had picked my brother, sister, and I up after school. She asked if any of us wanted to go with her to a Petsmart that had a special kind of litter for my sister’s cat. Predictably, my brother and sister passed on the long drive, and I readily agreed to a mini adventure.
When we got to Petsmart, I made a beeline for the adoption center – the first place I always looked when we walked into a pet store. My parents had once told me that with our other pets, it would be harder to adopt a grown cat. They would consider a kitten.
I got to the adoption window, and there in the big window was the cutest little black and white tuxedo kitten you’ve ever seen. I must’ve had my face pressed all the way against the glass, I was so hopeful.
When my Mom came up beside me, I pointed him out excitedly. “Mom! There’s a kitten! Can I have him?” I asked her.
“He’s already yours.” She said. These words, this memory, send shivers down my arms to this day.
It. Was. Magical.
I couldn’t believe what she was saying, but there was a lot going on behind the scenes that I didn’t know about yet. My Mom had been searching for a kitten online for a few weeks, and hadn’t told me yet. Then one day, this kitten popped up.
He was at a Petsmart far away from our house, but my Mom called and asked if they would hold onto him until we could get there. She figured my brother and sister would want to stay home, and knew that I was almost guaranteed to come along.
She knew I would see him and ask if I could have him. And the wonderful surprise of already having him is almost too perfect for words.
This sweet kitten was already named – Max. (That’s probably a good thing for him, because none of the names I had been dreaming of would fit him nearly as well.)
Max was found on the street with his siblings, Minnie and Moe, who had already been adopted. I hope they’re somewhere out there in cozy homes with people who love them as much as I love Max.
Max is my baby, and he knows it. We’ve grown up together, playing with feather toys and his favorite toy bug, learning that he loves treats, and that he does this weird thing with his arms when he’s trying to get comfy. He made me more responsible, and showed me how much love my heart can hold.
Max is quirky.
There’s something about black and white cats that’s just extra special.
When he wants me to wake up, he’s learned to make a lot of noise. Example A: knocking every DVD I own off the shelf one-by-one.
And when that doesn’t work, lightly tapping my face with his claws. Not to scratch me, but more like a poke.
Max is also the sweetest boy.
He sat on my chest while I sobbed the night my sister’s cat died at 20 years old. He purred his biggest purr, making it better in the best way he knew how.
He marches right up to your face in the morning, and meows the loudest meow you’ve ever heard.
He lightly nibbles at your ankles when he’s ready for treats and you’re not getting them fast enough.
He wears his formal tuxedo to every occasion.
Max is my favorite boy in the whole world.
And come February 5, he will turn 17. He’s the best rescue that ever could’ve been made.
But we aren’t strangers to rescuing animals in my family. We also had a rescue cat named Callie, who came from farm land we live near.
Where Max is loud and goofy, Callie was proper and elegant. She walked on her tiptoes, and kept Max in line.
When she lost her battle with cancer in August of 2021, we were unmoored for a bit. It was just Max and Callie by then, and being without her left our hearts in pieces.
We hated the idea of Max being by himself, but the possibility of opening our hearts back up to another baby felt too soon. But the decision was made for us just a few short weeks after Callie passed.
We began to hear a kitten crying under our house, and my Dad went under to check on it. The first time, we thought it was crying for its mom, but the cries persisted. Pretty soon we realized the mom cat wasn’t coming back, and my Dad went back under to get the kitten out.
This kitten was a fighter. For the first time ever, we had a kitten take milk – from a syringe no less! This kitten, who we thought was a boy, we named Tom.
Tom stole all of our hearts, even Max who was especially skeptical. When we realized she was a she, her name had already stuck. So Tom it is. She took milk, and fell asleep under your chin. She suckled on your ear, and looked at the whole world with wonder in her eyes. She looked at Max like she’d never seen anything so awesome.
In a time when we were filled with such great sadness, Tom reminded us how to see the joy.
Tom follows everyone down the hallway, and regularly sprints from end to end of the house. She’s obsessed with my Dad, and will only purr for my Mom. She brought out the kitten in Max, who likes to play again!
Tom sits in the kitchen window, and jumps out from behind doors to surprise you. She plays with toy springs until she’s worn herself completely out. She’s the perfect personality, and sweetest spirit.
Tom is the combination of every fur-baby we’ve ever loved.
Rescuing kittens is a tough thing, but the joy is absolutely unmatched.
