[Magdalen] Max -- RIP

[James Oppenheimer-Crawford]

Some might remember some of my mentions of our companions. We got four cats
from the shelter six years ago: Malcolm, Max, Boris and Nancy.

We were delighted that all of them got along surprisingly well.

Malcolm, a 26-pound big guy, who wants to be a puma when he grows up, is
the gentle giant who is the head cat. He and Max lived in the same location
before being surrendered to the SPCA. Malcolm has seemed to respect his
older brother, and in all the years they have been with us, I have never
seen Malcolm treat Max with anything but gentleness. This was more so shown
recently as Max began to visibly slow down. Malcolm would come and gently
groom Max, who seemed to accept this.
Max was not eating much and seemed to be hiding from everyone, a really
strong sign that the end might be near. I left him in our bedroom with the
light out and a bowl of food which he ate a small amount of.
I came in to check on him from time to time, and at about eleven PM, I came
in and found Max in a small space by our bed, unresponsive.
I gently put him up on the bed and told Christine that he was gone. We came
and gently petted him for some time, and we allowed the other cats to see
him. I was especially concerned about Malcolm. They seemed to sense what
was going on, and that was that. I have read of similar reactions elsewhere.

Max had been losing his hearing (a common event with bicolors, which I
understand are actually the result of a mutation -- they are actually
supposed to be all black), but he never seemed to have a problem with it.
We developed techniques of calling him for dinner involving flashing
lights, which he quickly figured out.

Of all our companions, he was probably the quirkiest, but we loved him, and
he had a good life with us, I hope.

I was so very glad that Max died in a short time from when he got really
ill. Just a few days ago, he got in my lap, I petted him and he purred with
obvious contentment.

I am also extremely gad that he died when he did, at home. I could allow
the others to see him, and he went out without another trip to the vet,
which would not have helped him, but would have been upsetting for him.

Death is a part of life, and in this case, it came quickly with a minimum
of trauma. I shall miss the big guy very much, but his death was about as
good as one could hope for. So I have not really wept for him. I sat down
about a day before these events and asked The Lord to please take him, if
it be His will, as gently as possible, and as quickly as possible, and I
feel He answered my prayer. Everyone else has been doing fine, seems to
have dealt with Max's death well.

We shall no doubt be considering whether to get another cat at some point,
but at my age, I am now afraid if I were to get another cat, it might well
outlive me. Cats who have been in a home for years are traumatized to be in
a shelter again. We still have three who are a real joy. Nancy continues to
be like a kitten, hopping into my lap and purring and kissing me and
nesting on my right arm (always the elbow of the right arm). For now, we
are content with the three we have. What Christine wants will probably
determine where we go from here. She is the one who has always gotten a
visit from each cat after its passing to say goodbye. I envy her.

Life goes on, and it truly is beautiful.



James W. Oppenheimer-Crawford
*“A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved,
except in memory. LLAP**”  -- *Leonard Nimoy