Missing Gray Max

Early on, when Gray Max came into my life, I started singing him my own version of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean:

My Gray Max sails over the ocean.
My Gray Max sails over the sea.
My Gray Max sails over the ocean.
Oh bring back my Gray Max to me...

He loved to be held and petted while I sang that over and over. And I was happy to oblige.

Sometime between 10:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. on Tuesday, October 30, my beloved Gray Max went missing. When I went outside to feed him that cold and wet afternoon and called and called and he didn't come, I knew he was gone. Because Max always comes when I call, and on a day like that, he wouldn't be far. Even if he was at my neighbors, on the porch, with his buddy, my neighbor's cat, Trouble - they liked to hang out - he always came when called.

The rain and cold continued as night fell, and my dread continued. I held out hope that he'd somehow show up that evening, but he didn't. When I got up Halloween morning, I went to the backdoor immediately - and he wasn't there, those glowing eyes looking through the back window, waiting for me to let him in.

It's been 37 days. I miss him so much it's unbearable at times. But I don't think my Gray Max is coming back.

So many of you already know the story: we moved into our home in January 2013 and sometime after that, sitting outside in our backyard, enjoying a fire in the firepit, Stefan said, "We have a visitor." There, a few feet from where we were sitting, was Gray Max, sitting still, listening to us. After some cajoling sweet talk from me, he came over for some petting. The next visit, probably the next night, I dared to pick him up, and after that, he was happy to jump on my lap.

I assumed he belonged to some neighbor nearby: he looked well fed, he was fixed and he loved being with people. But it turned out he was being taken care of by a crazy neighbor who fed and housed six other cats - she said he'd shown up one day and never left, but that he never seemed interested in hanging out with her, though he tolerated all the cats and her two dogs. He sure loved hanging out with me.

She called him "Max." I called him "Not my cat," because Stefan and I had an agreement when we got married: no cats. For the next 20 months or so, I kept saying he was "Not my cat," though I called him "Gray Max" - I just thought that suited him more. And very quickly after that I started calling him "Graaaaay", and when I did, he would come running to me. I didn't feed him, but he loved being with me. And since our dog at the time, Albi, was blind, she couldn't see him to chase him, so we would all hang out together - Gray Max tolerated most dogs.

Gray Max hung out with me in the yard always when I gardened. I violated the house rules and let him come in on my lap in the afternoons. When it got colder, I would close him up for the night in the guest room. When he got ripped open by a raccoon, I paid the bill to get him fixed up, but his "real" owner, the crazy neighbor, kept him housed up in her apartment for recovery. He wouldn't let her pick him up, and even bit her once when she tried - but he loved when I picked him up and kissed his face over and over.

Two days before we put Albi down, I gave her a bath - I didn't want her to smell like pee for her last days on Earth - and we lay in the yard outside together in the sun. Gray Max joined us.

After Albi died, I went for nine months without a dog. I haven't gone without a dog since I was 24 years old. Gray Max was my dog. He followed me all over the house and all over the yard - all before I ever started feeding him. At one point, a raccoon did some serious damage to him, and I laid out a few hundred dollars to get him sewn up. My crazy neighbor kept him inside during his recovery, much to his outrage and frustration. He healed up nicely - and it was just another reason for him to dislike her and like me more.

Then, in October 2014, my neighbor died. I had to find homes for her cats and her two dogs. But I knew I was going to take Gray Max. I couldn't bear the idea of someone else having him nor the idea of not having him in my life. He was a part of my home - and I spend a great deal of time in this house. I just couldn't imagine this home without him.

I got a discarded dog crate for airline travel and converted it into a cat house for the winter. Gray Max often preferred to be outside, even overnight, and he immediately loved the house. I asked Stefan to build cat ladders on both sides of our backyard fence, and he did. Then I asked him to build a platform for the cat crate, so Gray Max could be well off the ground, but his crate wouldn't take up any space on the porch and would still be under the roof, and he did.

Here's a blog I wrote months ago, but never got around to publishing:

The dog and cat dynamics of my house.

Inside in the morning, before meals: if the Gray Max the Cat comes in from outside, Lucinda the Dog does this sniffy, chewy thing on his head, and he loves it. He pushes his head up against her mouth for more.

If I lay down on the couch, Max sleeps on my belly. Lucy sleeps on her bed in the living room or comes over to the couch so I'll pet her. More head chewing if Max leans over.

If Stefan's radio alarm goes off, Lucy begins bouncing around the living room and making a noise like an excited Chewbacca. Max used to panic and hide behind the couch, but now he just stands there, waiting for me to come back and feed him.

Inside in the morning, after meals: if I'm in the floor, petting Lucinda, she will carefully maneuver so that she is in front of me, partially on my lap, so that she can see Max if he approaches and push him away with a paw. Max will circle us both, sometimes getting close enough to give my hand or Lucy a lick. If he licks Lucy in the same direction as her fur, he'll give her several licks. If he licks Lucy against her fur, he will jump back as though he's licked a needle.

Inside in the evenings, after meals: Gray Max lays on my lap as I sit on the couch. Lucy comes over and positions herself in front of me so as to say, "Pet my bum." Sometimes, Max puts his paw out and places it on her rump for a few seconds. No attempt at head chewing - in fact, Max meows great annoyance at her.

When both animals are outside: if Max has just gone outside, and Lucy rushes out or is already outside, she will tear after him and he will dash up the fence and away from her as quickly as possible. If Lucy is already outside and Max gets over the fence and onto the porch, he'll stand right at the door and she will stand out in the yard and bark - she won't come near him.

And sometimes, Max will walk across the living room and Lucy will try to play and Max will meow great annoyance while continuing to walk wherever he is going.

I have always wanted a dog and a cat.

Of course, I have also wanted a donkey, goats, and chickens. But I knew the farm animals were probably NOT going to happen for me - and now, unless we win the lottery and get to buy a ranch, it's not happening.

But I do I have a dog and a cat.

In the last several months, more and more, Max would stay indoors as day ended, laying on my lap most evenings, content while I watched TV. He snuck into the bedroom a few times, but I'd put him outside when I found him and he quickly got the message - no bedroom.

And Stefan didn't divorce me, though it frustrated him so, so much to have a cat in the house.  He barely tolerated it all because he knew how much I loved Gray Max.

When we adopted Lucinda, I was determined for her to at least tolerate Gray Max, and vice versa. Gray Max had lived in a home with two dogs with my neighbor, so I knew it was possible. I brought Max into the house with Lucy after we'd had her for a week and then just sat on the couch while Max howled at the back door and Lucy lay alert in the floor, staring at him. It took about two hours for the howling to stop and for Max to finally wander over to the couch and sit on my lap. But within just a couple of days, they were fine together in the house. It took about two years for Lucy to stop chasing Max in the backyard, however, and she still loved to just start barking her head off at him when they were both out there - he would just lay wherever he was and wait for me to come tell her to stop. They did sometimes sleep together - in the floor of the living room or out in the backyard. I loved finding them next to each other. I even found Gray Max in Lucinda's bed a few times - she really didn't know what to think about that.

In the last two years, I had to make sure Gray Max was in the house when I walked Lucy because, otherwise, he'd follow us. Stefan once realized he was with them four blocks away. Max was obsessed with following Lucy outside the house (but never inside). If he stayed out all night, then when I let him in in the mornings, he would happily tolerate Lucy's morning sniffs and nibbles all over his face. They were buddies, no question. And I loved it. I had wanted a dog and a cat, at the same time, since I was a little girl. It was a dream come true.

Gray Max was around 6 or 7 years old when he came into my life in 2013. Earlier this year, I took him to the vet for his annual shots and because he had so obviously lost weight - a few people had commented on it. The vet did tests and said he was absolutely fine but to switch him to wet food entirely. I did, and he gained weight and seemed absolutely his usual self. You could tell he was 11 or more years old - his sides were sunken in that old man way - but otherwise, he was fine: great appetite, still active, still liked to play a bit.

There were only two things that I wondered about: firstly, he suddenly decided he hated all dogs that dared to walk by our house, moving in to attack as they approached. I often had to pick him up and hold him as dogs passed. The other thing was that he started trying to sleep in my bed again. We started catching him again in the bedroom - always on my side, snuggled down, looking so content - it concerned me because it meant he preferred being in dark and quiet more than being on my lap, and I thought that might be a sign of... oh, I dunno... something... but I still don't think he slunk off and died. He wasn't sick. He was in fine form and spirits and appetite. I had been thinking of a way to make him an entirely indoor cat, but two things were stopping me: there was nowhere Stefan would tolerate a litter box, and Max loved being outside. He absolutely loved it. And since he never went far without Lucy, I thought we could go with this lifestyle for at least a couple of more years.

But Gray Max is gone now. The day after he disappeared, I walked along all the surrounding streets to make sure he wasn't on the side of one, hit by a car. I've posted flyers all over the neighborhood. I've posted online. I've registered with the local animal shelter's lost and found. But Gray Max has not been found.

My guess is that another animal got him - a raccoon or even a coyote. I just wish we could have found the body. And I hate the idea of him dying somewhere, alone, cold and in pain.

I miss Gray Max on my lap, or snuggled up against me on the couch. Or next to me in the yard. I miss his howl of demand to open the door to go out or come in. I miss his look of frustrated as Lucinda stood over him barking. I miss him beyond anything I can put into words. I think Lucinda misses him too.