Max was like a delicate flower that faded too soon. He had a water fetish and loved to drink from a running tap, from an unguarded cup or glass or even a watering can; he tracked kitty litter into the bathtub as he examined the droplets that gathered around the drain. A mischief-maker, he chewed on paper documents and tipped over waste baskets to get attention.
He had a purr like the running engine of a Mac truck and engaged it incessantly, signaling hunger, affection, or pure joy. He slept on our bed by my feet or cuddled up with companion Rocky for an afternoon snooze. Neither as athletic nor brave as Rocky, he was nevertheless unafraid of Pepper, our well-meaning but over-active mini-Aussie, whom Rocky loathes. Max was the peace-maker and go-between.
Sweet, petite, and beautiful, he stole our hearts and has not returned them.
"Good night, sweet prince; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."