When Max the cat moved in with us nine years ago, he really thought he was ‘Lord of the Manor’.
He had free reign of the house, he was pampered, cuddled, and had his lovely black and white coat regularly brushed. He was doted on and lived the ‘life of Riley’. When we went to get a cat from the RSPCA, Max chose us – not the other way around. He soon settled in well and really became part of our family unit.
His life consisted of eating, sleeping and chasing the odd bird. Meals were catered, there was always a soft cushion to sleep on, and life was good for Max the cat.
Unbeknownst to Max his world was suddenly going to change; he was not going to be number one anymore. The attention he was so used to having was going to be diverted to the ‘new arrival’ in our house in the shape of little baby Hugo.
Max really did not understand why suddenly he was the centre of attention anymore. He would sniff around little Hugo’s bassinette looking quite forlorn and would let out the odd meow. He was probably thinking, “Hey what about me guys? Remember me?” He could hear the sound of squeaks and cries but this kind of noise was foreign to his little ears, so he would just wander off obviously feeling dejected. Poor Max really did not understand what was going on.
As the months went by, he would gradually come up to baby Hugo, give him the odd sniff, and then trot off. I am sure in his own furry little way he felt quite sad. He was probably thinking “why is this other creature getting all the fuss and attention and not me?”
As soon as Hugie started to crawl, poor Max knew he should make himself scarce. If Max ventured too close, Hugie would grab his tail or even manage to pull out some fur. Max was not too happy about that. Eventually he started to wise up and began to keep his distance from the tiny, grabbing hands.
Once Hugo started walking, he would run after Max and push him over. The poor cat was so good-natured about all this and would let Hugie give him a pat or a whack. We would all hold our breath waiting for something to happen. Obviously, Hugo had no idea he was hurting pussy and Max would just get himself up and trot off. Max has a little white dot on the end of his tail, which intrigued Hugo, and he would always make a grab for it, fortunately, Max never scratched him.
Max was such a tolerant cat during Hugo’s baby years, and he managed put up with Hugo’s ‘special’ kind of loving. As the months went by the bond between the two started to grow and now Hugo is three, they are becoming good friends. There is now room on the couch for both Max and Hugie and Max is happier and more contented. I am sure that when Hugo starts school Max will miss him but as he is getting older, he will probably enjoy the quiet time too.
Thank you Max for hanging in there and putting up with all that has been dished out to you. You are indeed a special cat. Hugo adores you and makes sure when I do the weekly shop I do not forget your food. As we rush around the aisles, Hugie sits up in the trolley happily cuddling the box of cats’ biscuits.
Two special friends, one black and white and furry and the other a cute little three year old with a mop of curly hair.
How truly delightful.
By Kay Rayner
Join the Discussion
Type out your comment here:
You must be logged in to post a comment.