by Kristie Theobald

Created on: April 14, 2009

He was a pointy-faced, wide-eyed, stripy grey kitten with a beautiful brush tail, belonging to my sister Kim. I remember the day that our eldest sister Donna brought him to her from the pet shop. Kim and her husband at the time brought their new fur-baby to our house. I was only nearly nine years old when I first got acquainted with the little man who would be a lifelong friend, known to all as Max.

From that very first day, he was the most affectionate, cuddly boy we'd ever come across. He would jump up on a person's lap, ease himself into their arms, and flip himself over, resting his head in the crook of their arm just like a baby, and start a thundering purr resembling that of a Harley Davidson, vibrating all over his little body. He would also put his two front paws around your neck and gaze into your eyes with his big, wise green ones, still purring. He showed you all the love in the world.

Max had many adventures. He would wander the neighbourhood and get himself locked in the neighbours' garage. Then one day he got himself stuck up a gum tree in the back yard of Kim's neighbour. She didn't care that she had a terrified, crying kitten up her tree. All she worried about was whether the rescue squad would wake up her kids! Nevertheless she grudgingly let them through and the little guy was rescued, safe and sound.

When Kim and her husband divorced, she moved back home, along with Max, and his two foster-siblings, Merry and Lucky (who was more commonly known as The Ginger Whinger). Then when she got married again and her new husband was allergic to cats, there was no choice but to leave the three cats with my parents and me so our house became Max's permanent home for the rest of his life.

He developed an abcess on the base of his tail one time and had to have it removed. With his rear shaved off and an Elizabethan collar around his neck to stop him from licking the spot, his foster siblings fled when they saw him, thinking he was some kind of crazy looking lion.

As Max grew older, he grew extremely bossy and set in his ways. His vets took special care, learning very quickly the things he tolerated and the things he hated. His meow grew louder, and more demanding. When he was young he jumped onto the wash basin every morning, yelling for one of us to turn the tap on for him to drink from. As he grew older and developed arthritis, he no longer could jump, but he still sat near the wash basin and yelled to be picked up. Other times he would stand near the shower

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