Rob brought her in to the house and laid her on my shoulder. Who could not fall in love with her instantly. Pooh came over and sort of checked her over and then preceeded to give her a proper kitty bath. Well, Pooh decided that she was "his" so she was there to stay.

The next day she went to the vet who pronounced her to be a "healthy part-Persian male". Everyone thought she was a boy - that real "girlie" personality had not come about yet. When "he" was almost a year old "he" went in to be neutered. After her bottom was shaved and they found nothing there, everyone realized that "he" was a she. So, Max became Maxie and the brown leather collar was exchanged for the pink patent leather color with the pink rhinestones. She wore that collar until the day she died and had never even lost a rhinestone out of it.

Most cats have balance and coordination galore, not Maxie! She couldn't jump for beans, heck she couldn't even jump up onto the sofa without falling over. When she was little Pooh used to jump on top of the hutch in the dining room or the one in the entrance foyer. One day Maxie decided to jump "down" to him from the landing above. She missed and landed loudly on the marble floor. She was lucky then that she didn't kill herself, or at least break something. She never tried that one again.

Then there was the time she decided to climb a tree while tied to a 8 foot lead. It was like trying to get a tangled kite down. She just sat and cried until someone decided to come and get her down. She didn't like trees, and whats more - hated birds! Actually, she was afraid of the outdoors and would prefer not to be put out on a lead. Pooh always liked it, but not Maxie. She was the one always hiding under the bushes from the world.

My mom always said that Maxie was "Just a short haired cat trapped in a long haired body". When she would get groomed and her fur cut to about 1/2" in length she would behave much better. I think it was because she would get really hot and uncomfortable in that fur, especially in the summer. So, every summer she would get her short haircut and be in heaven.

Maxie had a fairly healthy and a very happy life. She moved from Southeast Texas to Dallas to Michigan to Ohio without a hitch. As long as her food and her brothers went along she did just fine. For a cat who really didn't like change, she really did quite well.

In the fall of 1997 her inflammatory response to a red ant bite flared up again and she had to have a steriod based medication to calm it down. Being over 13 years old this set her in to transient diabetes - which corrected itself at Christmas that year. Rob and Terri were here visiting when she "self corrected" and almost died. Since that day she'd had normal blood sugars and was doing fine.

In February of 1999, Pooh died and we were not sure how Maxie would cope. She missed her big brother, but amazingly did quite well. She became the "lap cat" that she never was and was always wanting attention. She even didn't woof her food down and took her time. She even returned to sleeping in the bed with us at night.

On November 5, 1999 when I picked her up and my hand hit her bottom she cried. When I check it I found dried blood on her long fur. Cleaning of the fur and cutting away of some of it found some badly inflammed anal glands and torn tissue with bleeding. Until that time she had shown no signs whatsoever of anything being wrong. The next morning she went to see her vet. At the time he knew she had an infection, but wasn't sure if it was extremely infected anal glands or a colorectal tumor. She was put on antibiotics and brought home.

By day two of the antibiotics she was her old self again. Some of the tissue tearing began to heal and the redness and hardness along her rectal area were improving. She was back to "bitching" about everything, demanding to be petted and held and sitting upstairs in the bay window again. By the end of the week she was about the same in behavior, but somewhat slower. She was eating less and less - vomiting some which could have been from the antibiotics.

By Sunday she wouldn't eat much, just take the juice off the food. Little sips of water and I noticed she had rapidly lost weight (in just over two days it changed dramatically). Monday, November 15, 1999, I took her to see her vet (who she always loved dearly). She was bright eyed, but very tired. The infection had just about cleared up so her vet could do a rectal exam. What he found was a very long tumor which was inoperable. She had lost over 3-1/2 pounds in a few days. She was in no pain (except for her sore bottom), but would be in the next few days. A decision had to be made.

I sat on the floor in the vets office with her and Diarmid and cried for a long time. She was tired and just layed in my lap, purring and looking up at me with a "it's alright mom, I'm ready" look on her face. Diarmid licked her nose and I just cried. They brought in the shot and I held her. You could tell she was ready. She layed down on her side with her head in my hands and just gave her doctor the "ok" look. She never flinched and was gone before the most tiny amount had been injected on November 15, 1999 at 11:15 am. I sat and held her a while longer and Diarmid was right next to her, protecting her and crying in his way.

She was cremated and I will place her ashes with Pooh's. In the spring I will plant a new tree with their ashes at the roots. I will miss my little girl so much. I have not been without a kitty now for over 21 years and Diarmid has never been an only child. I thank God for the years I had with my "little princess" and wish her a swift journey to the Rainbow Bridge. I know she now plays with Pooh and Angus again, and has finally met Ti and MacGregor and all her Bridge cousins and friends who went before her.

Until we meet again little one.....