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On May 22, my companion of 13 years died. (No, not THAT companion! I was referring to my beloved cat Max).

I've had Max longer than I've had my husband. Max has been through countless boyfriends, moves between three different states, and the addition of 2 dogs. And, still, he was a great, loving cat.

Max was the kind of cat who liked to be around everyone and in the middle of everything all the time. He like everyone and everything: people, dogs - he didn't discriminate.

He even liked Little Green Men!

He wasn't a snobby or pretentious kind of cat. In fact, I'm not sure he knew he was a cat AT ALL. (There's evidence to suggest that he surfed the 'Net when I wasn't around...)

He had a WIDE RANGE of interests.

For example, he seemed to be really interested in my writing skills...

...and was obviously a Stephen King kinda fan.

He seemed to have this strange fascination with gang signs, too.

I guess you could say he was a renaissance kind of cat.

He was the kind of cat that would race out of the garage door in defiance each morning, only to realized half-way out onto the driveway that he was an indoor cat that had no use for the outside. Every morning at approximately 5:45 a.m., he would cowel (cross between howel and cry) at my bedroom door because he was sure that he was starving. As a matter of fact, anytime anyone made a move toward the kitchen, Max was literally underfoot and racing. That cat sure could eat (in case you couldn't tell). He was unique and most un-cat-like, that's for sure.

The only thing he did like a "normal" cat was sleep...

....and sleep

...and sleep some more.

So, sleep well my dear friend. Farewell. You will be missed.

Max Williams-Wilson (aka: SugarsMax & Maxamillion)

June 1994- May 2007

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Being consumed by books.
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