I took the day off from work yesterday. I'm going in today and I hope to have time afterward for a ride (besides my regular commute), however short. I think it's the best way to deal with my feelings about Max.
He's not the first cat I've lost. But he has experienced so much with me. To be more exact, he was a sweet, loving presence through both the joys and the trials of the past ten and a half years.
Max was at the door when I came home from a couple thousand days of work, a few hundred bike rides, trips to see my parents in Florida, trips to see my friends in France and other trips to Italy and the Czech Republic--and to Colorado, for my surgery. He was with me during some difficult times, when people who said they would "always be there" for me changed their minds, and when a beau revealed his true, abusive, colors--and nearly destroyed my life.
Most important of all--at least to me--he was with me as I was re-defining myself as a person, and a cyclist. He didn't care whether I raced or if a 150 kilometer ride took half an hour, then an hour, longer than it did when I was in my twenties, thirties or even early 40s. He didn't even care when I had a "bad hair day": something that was never a concern of mine when I was younger.
I had long heard that orange cats were the friendliest. Max certainly lived up to that. He was all love, all the time. And when he wasn't basking in someone's affection, he was doing the other thing he did best:
A friend of mine, Michiko, called him "The Zen Cat." Now you know why. Maybe I should remember his calm affection today, as I ride to work and, hopefully, somewhere--even if it's just a park near work--afterward.
He's not the first cat I've lost. But he has experienced so much with me. To be more exact, he was a sweet, loving presence through both the joys and the trials of the past ten and a half years.
Max was at the door when I came home from a couple thousand days of work, a few hundred bike rides, trips to see my parents in Florida, trips to see my friends in France and other trips to Italy and the Czech Republic--and to Colorado, for my surgery. He was with me during some difficult times, when people who said they would "always be there" for me changed their minds, and when a beau revealed his true, abusive, colors--and nearly destroyed my life.
Most important of all--at least to me--he was with me as I was re-defining myself as a person, and a cyclist. He didn't care whether I raced or if a 150 kilometer ride took half an hour, then an hour, longer than it did when I was in my twenties, thirties or even early 40s. He didn't even care when I had a "bad hair day": something that was never a concern of mine when I was younger.
I had long heard that orange cats were the friendliest. Max certainly lived up to that. He was all love, all the time. And when he wasn't basking in someone's affection, he was doing the other thing he did best:
A friend of mine, Michiko, called him "The Zen Cat." Now you know why. Maybe I should remember his calm affection today, as I ride to work and, hopefully, somewhere--even if it's just a park near work--afterward.
Justine, I read your blog daily. I enjoy your postings very much - sensitive, thoughtful and funny. Thank you for your writing and for your candor about your life. I am sorry for your loss, and wish you comfort in your memories of Max.
ReplyDeleteKen--Thank you for reading every day--and for your compliments and condolences. I certainly will take comfort in my memories of Max: I think he would have wanted that.
ReplyDeleteA good pet gets into your heart in a way that very few other things can. It's a special relationship. I'm sorry that you've lost your friend, but I'm happy for you for the time you had with him.
ReplyDeleteBest wishes.
Wolf.
Wolf--Thank you. Ten and a half years with Max was indeed a gift I will always treasure.
ReplyDeleteLosing a pet is always hard.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you.
Accordion--Thank you. My main consolation now is that Max doesn't have to suffer.
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