So the thing about my family is that we have always been dog people. Like, always. I have lived an alpo life, I swear it. Anything that needs a walk and shakes it's tail has always been able to earn my immediate approval and adoration (and that includes some well trained rabbits and one very talented pig). So you can imagine my surprise and dismay when my parents, the very people who has instilled in me my pro-canine values, fell madly and desperately in love with a cat. I know, it's shocking. It was hard. There was some group therapy, a bit of drinking, who am I kidding, QUITE a bit of drinking, but slowly I came around, under the sheer force of the personality of this animal. For quite simply put, this was no ordinary cat. No, I will give this feline the highest compliment I am able and say this cat might actually have been half dog. I KNOW. Insanity.
Maximus the cat came into our lives quite suddenly and without any warning, like the plague or the Internet. When I returned home to not-Philadelphia last summer my parents, while delighted by my presence, had a better child to distribute their love upon. They had found a small ginger colored cat to love. It's a difficult thing to find yourself second in your parent's affections, however, being possessed of an older brother I was used to it. Being third, however, was a bit of a shock. But once acquainted with this animal I was willing to forgo my resentment in the face of pure adorableness. I can be utterly honest and say that Maximus is not only much cuter then I am, but much nicer. Besides, he is the sweetest little cat in the world. Big yellow eyes and a tolerance to my father pulling his tail puts this cat in the realm of sainthood. Clearly this was the ideal cat for us.
However, this god sent animal had already been promised to another. Yes, Maximus had an owner, a woman I would quickly deem "that dumb bitch" whose lax pet-owning methods allowed Maximus to run wild and charm my parents into hoping this cat could someday be theirs. Alas, it was not to be. After almost a year with Maximus appearing before their french doors every morning and evening he disappeared. Suddenly and without warning Max wasn't there. He didn't respond to the food left out for him, nor did he come late in the day as I made dinner. No, Maxie was gone.
Distressed by the anguish of my parents, I took it upon myself to ring on the doorbell of the previously mentioned dumb bitch and inquire as to Maximus' whereabouts. However, not only was she not home, but her neighbor informed me that she had LOST the cat by her sheer neglect and stupidity. SERIOUSLY? The nicest cat in the world and she LOST it? For reals?
My parents are devastated, I myself am extremely vexed and saddened, and I can only hope that wherever Max is now, he is with a family that loves and cherishes his charming nature. So Maximus, wherever you are now, whatever you are doing, I hope that you are avoiding the struggle with all your tiny kitty might. If anyone deserves to beat the struggle, you do.
Unhappy for Max? So are we all. Sulk with Joshua Radin. It's dorky but it works. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXu3WafBt6I
Leah Franqui is a fairly interesting person/director/writer/reader/eater/drinker. She likes ugly dogs and dislikes her hair in the morning. She's a sucker for environmental causes and plays hardball with deals on chewing gum. She is a struggle.