Cat people are different, to the extent that they generally are not conformists. How could they be, with a cat running their lives?
~Louis J. Camuti
It had been three years since my husband Ed and I had pets. Our Sheltie, Casey, had been with us for almost fifteen years. He was the last of a long list of four-legged family members. When he passed away, we said, “That’s it. No more pets.”
In 2008, we experienced our first tropical storm as new residents of south Florida’s east coast. That got me focused on how I wanted to live, and after the storm, I said to Ed, “We need a pet. The house is too quiet, and I have gone too long without one.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It would tie us down again.”
“I’m sure.”
Ed had his reservations, but I was determined to get a cat from the Humane Society of the Treasure Coast. The storm had reminded me that a dog would still have to be walked, no matter what the weather was like.
We agreed to get just one cat. One Sunday afternoon, while Ed was working, I drove to Petco in Stuart, where the Humane Society had dogs and cats for adoption. On the drive there, I pictured a sweet, female, shorthaired cat. I would name her Lily. Ed would instantly fall in love with my sweet Lily. Just the thought of it made my heart warm.
I entered the store and started scanning the cages that the shelter had brought, looking for my Lily. As I surveyed the kittens and cats, I locked eyes with a young cat with brilliant blue eyes. It was love at first sight!
The nice lady from the shelter came up to me. “Looks like Ol’ Blue Eyes likes you. Would you like to hold him?”
“Him?” I wanted a her. But I couldn’t take my eyes off this handsome, little guy with his beige-and-brown long hair and the dark mask on his face that surrounded his blueberry eyes. Forget Lily, this little guy is definitely coming home with me. “Yes, I would love to hold him,” I said as I smiled.
He and I bonded instantly. After the paperwork was completed, I shopped for necessary supplies. Finally, we were on our way home. I learned that my new cat was a Snowshoe/Ragdoll mix, and he was a year old. Realizing he had some Siamese in him, I understood his chattiness as we conversed on our ride back to Port St. Lucie. The first thing I told him was that a name change was in order. I wanted one to match his personality, but it might take an adjustment period before the right name came to me.
Ed loved our new addition to the family as soon as he met him. “He is definitely unique with that mask on his face,” he commented. “It makes his eyes so blue.”
In the days and weeks to come, our blue-eyed boy settled in. You could say he took over the house. Cat toys were scattered everywhere, and I became his new playmate and wrestling partner. His abundance of energy never ceased and his quirky personality became more and more evident. We finally found a name to match his antics… Max. Mad Max to be exact. Max was funny, loving and exhausting.
By springtime, I noticed Max could not bear to see me leave the house. He would come after me, ready to pounce, claws and all. He also had to have my undivided attention whenever he was awake. Max helped with everything I did around the house. On laundry day, Max was fascinated by watching the washing machine fill up with soapy water. He sat on the dryer watching me drop the dirty clothes in one by one. Each shopping day, he would sit on the kitchen counter with his head in each grocery bag to see what I had bought. He was constantly getting into mischief — until the day came when I had had enough. We needed to make some changes.
When Ed came home from work, I sat him down. “Max needs a playmate,” I stated emphatically.
“He has one… you.”
“I need him to have a playmate other than me. Let’s go back to the shelter and find him one.”
Ed looked at me as though I had lost my mind. “What?”
The next morning, we drove to the Humane Society of the Treasure Coast on a quest for a female about the same size and age as Max. This time, it was Ed’s choice, and he picked a sweet, longhaired, black-and-gray girl. We named her Mandy. Lily was long forgotten.
It took a few days for Max to adjust to this new intrusion and for Mandy to acclimate herself to her new surroundings. Then one night, around four o’clock in the morning, we heard what sounded like a herd of elephants racing through the house. We both woke up at the same time. Ed whispered, “I guess the adjustment period has officially ended.” We laughed and went back to sleep.
Max and Mandy became attached to each other and to us. Max favored me, and Mandy attached herself to Ed. I believe they knew who chose them. Either way, they have been a blessing to our home.
Last year, we lost Ed to cancer. Mandy looked for him for weeks. I would often find her sitting on the arm of his recliner, waiting for him to come and sit with her. Slowly, Mandy became my lap cat. We sit together every afternoon and evening while I read or watch television. Max still owns me, but he has been gracious enough to share my lap with Mandy several times a day. I always knew deep down that “Ol’ Blue Eyes” would one day grow into a fine gentleman despite his quirky personality.
~Catherine Ancewicz
