For so long as I can remember Max and Leo were part of my son, Daniel’s life. One of Dan’s first roommates brought them back as kittens to the apartment he shared with Dan in the city. That was about 12 years ago
Pretty soon, Dan’s roommate moved on but Max and Leo stayed. And, then Dan moved to a new apartment and Max and Leo moved with him. Then Dan met Adrienne and they moved to a different apartment, and Max and Leo moved with them. That was about ten years ago.
Lap of Luxury
Max and Leo couldn’t have asked for a better life with Dan and Adrienne. They were indoor felines and lived pretty much in the lap of luxury. They were doted on, loved and petted, fed, cared for, taken for regular visits to the vet.
Diagnosis
On one of these visits, Max was diagnosed with diabetes. I did not really know Max or Leo at the time. I would not have been able to tell them apart. I rarely visited Dan and Adrienne in their various apartments in Brooklyn. Generally, it was easier for us all to meet for dinner in Manhattan where I worked.
So, five years ago, when I heard that Max had gotten sick and that he had diabetes and that a substantial amount of cash was required to stabilize him, and then keep him in insulin, my first thought –Max forgive me –was that he would be put to sleep.
Last week Max, whose life over the last five years was actually full and wonderful — despite twice daily insulin injections — was diagnosed with a tumor on his spleen.
Five years before, I had tried to persuade Dan and Adrienne that it would be better for Max to put him to sleep; last week I couldn’t bear the thought of letting him go without a fight. The idea of putting him to sleep without giving him a chance with surgery did NOT even occur to me.
What changed in those five years?
Bringing Joy To Our Lives
I got to know Max — and I fell in love with him. I fell in love with both of them: Max and Leo.
It happened last summer. At the height of the pandemic, Dan and Adrienne’s apartment lease expired, and their new home wasn’t ready to move into. So Dan and Adrienne and Max and Leo came to stay with me and Joe on the East End of Long Island.
It was the first time I’d had a pet in my house in more than 40 years, and it was –despite the pandemic–one of the better summers of my life.
Initially, Max and Leo were to be confined to Dan and Adrienne’s rooms. But that soon changed — and, they got the run of the house.
It was a joy to watch them basking, rain or shine, lying against the screen doors, or on top of the window ledges from where they could watch the birds.
I marveled at the way they jumped up on counters and bookcases and were so nimble they never knocked over a picture frame or any other knick knack on the shelves.
They were always spoken about as one entity. It was always “MaxandLeo” or “The Boys.” Max was the gentler, laid back one; Leo is the adventurer. Max would allow himself to be petted; Leo not so much if he wasn’t in the mood.
Max was always hungry, and would leap from his bed when Dan or Adrienne came to the kitchen to fix their breakfasts. His plaintive miaowing till he got his breakfast placed in front of him — it took all of 30 seconds to prepare — made me laugh.
Pets like Max and Leo become our beloved companions because they give you so much love and so much joy, and ask so little in return.
Going Home
After Dan and Adrienne left with Max and Leo to move into their new house, I got photos and videos of their adventures and explorations.
The Boys brought a special pleasure and calm into my life even after they left our home. Their photos were therapeutic. Despite the bad news so prevalent back then, they made me smile every time I looked through the albums of their photos.
Their “fight” over the expensive leather chair (which I’d bought for my Manhattan studio and which I bequeathed to Dan and Adrienne for the new house) also made me laugh.
When, Adrienne sent photos of Leo in his cat bed, I asked: where is Max’s bed? Dan replied: “he’s too upscale for pet furniture, he sleeps in the expensive chair.”
Last week Dan and Adrienne called to say that Max was sick. That it had happened suddenly. That the situation looked pretty hopeless. Max had a tumor on his spleen. They said they were sorry to deliver such bad news, but they were happy that at least I had gotten to know him over the summer.
I cried. Knowing Max made this so much worse. Not better.
A Ray Of Hope
A day later, there was a ray of hope: Max’s vet talked about possible surgery. I waited to hear about the time set for the surgery; how long it would take and when they would be able to pick him up to bring him home.
Instead, the call I got from Dan was to inform me that they’d had to put Max to sleep. The surgeon who was supposed to have performed the surgery to remove Max’s spleen had looked at all the x-rays and informed Dan and Adrienne that Max was inoperable.
Max went gently into the good night at the Animal Center on 62nd Street in Manhattan on Sunday May 30.
He was Dan and Adrienne’s loving pet and sweet companion for almost the entirety of their adult lives. I am heartbroken for them. I wish I could have done more.
R.I.P. Max, you sweet, gentle boy. Thank you for the joy you brought into our lives.
Max 2009-2021 💔
I’m such a dog person (allergic to felines) but Max touched my heart. We don’t deserve pets. They are too good. I’m sure heaven has an expensive leather chair. (At least I hope it does.)
And, if it does have an expensive leather chair, I think Ozzie led Max straight to it.