Maxcapades

Max Power, King God of all the Beautiful Empowerful Cats of the World, has been unusually squirrelly lately. I don’t know what is up with him but if he doesn’t stop I may lose my mind.

The Cereal Incident
Max loves cereal. More accurately, Max loves to drink the sugary milk left over from the cereal. Loves. As my friend D would say, pink puffy heart loves. Will he drink normal milk that we give to him? Oh, ew, no. That’s disgusting and disdainful, almost as gross as bananas (we once tried to give him some banana, just for fun, and he hissed at it. Hissed!). But USED cereal milk, well that is the nectar of the freaking Gods. So the other day LB is eating cereal. Not long after commencement of cereal eating, His Royal Entitledness hops up on the table and starts staring at the cereal bowl, then staring at LB, alternately. LB finishes his cereal, and Max makes a move for it, but not quick enough because LB gets up to refill the cereal bowl. “Oh noes!” Says Max, “I hafta wait for NOTHER bowlful?” Max decides waiting is for pussies. Throughout the second bowl of cereal, he emits frustrated, demanding chirps and growls. LB finishes his second bowl, drinks the milk and resumes TV watching. Max pounces upon the bowl only to discover his precious cereal milk is gone. GONE! Max decides that this is shit up with which he will not put. He WILL get a yummy and he WILL make LB pay. Max proceeds to the treat cupboard, where he yowls demandingly for 10 minutes until LB gives in and gives him a treat, whereupon he struts off triumphantly.

The Great Escape Incident
Max, like many indoor cats, is always and forever trying to escape. He isn’t usually sneaky about it; most of the time he merely sits by the door and demands to be let out. Every once in a while I let him out for observed exploration. Last night, I went to get groceries. As I’m bringing them into the house, Max demands to go out. My thinking was, OK, it’s like 10 degrees below zero, he’s been asking all week, perhaps if I let him out he’ll realize it’s not so pleasant out there. So I let him out while shuttling the groceries between the car and the porch. After scratching excitedly and urgently at the door to be let out, once I open it and hold it open for His Royal Highness, he stares at me for an eternity before gingerly stepping out, one dainty paw at a time. He cautiously makes his way down the four stairs. In the meantime I have made two more trips between the car and the porch. Max starts to realize that the ground, it is ass cold. He starts picking up his paws quickly, one at a time, propelling forward movement. He rounds the snow bank at the end of the walk and turns onto the sidewalk. Freedom is within reach! But damn is the ground cold! He adds to his quick-stepping a paw shake at the apex of every paw lift, resulting in a crouched wobbly march. This propels him forward faster. It is damn cold but will we turn back and enter the warm sanctuary of home? NEVAR!! Myself, having finished shuttling groceries and dying of laughter, decide it’s time to collect the poor, frigid cat. I scoop him up in my warm arms, only to receive a reproachful meowl and complaints all the way into the house. After glaring at me for a time, he decides I am his best friend and demands snuggles.

The Shade of Doom Incident
Later that evening, after the Great Escape Incident, Max was a-snugglin and a-sleepin upstairs with Milo while LB and I enjoyed Top Chef. All of the sudden, out of nowhere, we hear a MEOW! Then Max comes tearing down the stairs, at top speed, races through the living room and across the dining room in a bee-line for one particular window, leaps onto the window sill, stands up on his legs and intently inspects the window shade. I’m not exactly sure what the mission was, but damn he was intent on staring at that particular window shade at that exact moment.