Max came to us years ago much like the other cats that have been in our life....a stray. The others have always been cute little kittens, however, and Max was a fully grown, filthy, mistreated stray. I say mistreated because his tail has a dramatic bend in it where it looks as if it has been slammed in a door or something.
Max would sit outside the door at our house in the woods and beg. Judy swore that she was going to ignore him till he left. A week later, she was feeding him and telling me that he was just going to be an outside cat. Another week later, after Trinity had cleaned him up with some dry cleaning solution that she had purchased from a pet store, he was named, inside, and sleeping contently on the bed.
Max has a personality unlike any cat that I have ever known. He almost seems to be able to talk and often times grumbles at me when I let him in kind of like chastising me for making him stay out so long. When he talks, I sometimes chide him with the statement, "Can't you hear the words that are coming out of my mouth.". Other times, his words seem to be just pathetic cries when his voice even cracks.
Max's only other demand than to let him in and out at his whim is that his water dish be up to the top at all times. He will cry at you and look at the dish until you fill it up. With a grumble like thanks, he will then drink.
He also will often times ask to go out and then come back to the slider and stare back in at you like he used to when he first joined us. Then when you open the door, he will either turn and walk away or just look up at you as if to say, "I really don't want back inside, I just wanted to see if you would open the door.".
He will let you know when he wants attention by climbing up in your lap and plopping down. Then if you don't show him the attention, an arm will soon go up with a paw touching towards your face letting you know that he is there and ready to be petted.
I liken him to Garfield who he looks somewhat like. His personality is somewhat Garfieldish also. We are there to serve him and dogs are just stupid slobbering idiots.
He has one annoying trait, however. At times, he gets dried poop up underneath that disfigured tail. I am always the one called upon to handle that problem of which has become progressively harder to deal with as Max does not like the practice one bit.
Last week was such the case. I took him in to our small bathroom downstairs and made ready to do my duty. Placing Max between my legs and laying a hold of his tail, he knew exactly what was next to come and he was bound and determined for it not to happen. He let me know in no easy terms to let go of his tail or suffer the consequences. I let go.
I told Judy that I needed two others in order to do it. Casey and Trin volunteered. Casey grabbed the back of his neck and held him down. Trin tried to grab his back two paws that still had claws while I readied to grab his tail, pull it up, and extract the dreaded dry poop. Max soon let us know that it didn't matter that he was outnumbered, he was not going down without a fight and fight he did. Trin could not keep his back legs together so I grabbed them with my right hand and told her to hold up his tail. He twisted and turned until he was in striking distance of Casey's hand and snapped at it, making Casey let go and we all then released the now psycho cat who grumbled at us and ran away.
The next morning, I stared at the lounging cat on the downstairs floor and developed a plan. With my tissue held in my right hand behind my back, I began to talk to Max and stroke him with my left hand. This Max enjoyed and he stood to insure that my stroke could go all the way down his back just like he liked it. I knew that sooner or later as I petted down towards the lower part of his back that he would naturally raise his tail and when he did, with stealth like accuracy, my tissued right hand zipped around, grasped the dried on poop and pulled. With a yelp, Max jumped up into the air and sped off while I held up the wrapped tissue paper that enveloped the targeted extraction and yelled, "Got ya!".
Max stared at me from underneath the table as if to say, "OK, you win this time but the next time won't be quite so easy.". And I am sure that it won't.
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