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A Memory of Maynard
This is a tribute to a beautiful, precious cat who touched my life and everyone who came into contact with him. He had 15 good years on this earth and somehow it doesn't seem like enough.

    “I’m gonna go change Maynard’s towels. Call me if you need me.”
    “Maynard’s towels? Good luck, honey, that cat can be a real grouch and he’s got claws.”
    To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I should take this to mean that he actually had his front claws intact or that he was cranky as I walked into the cat boarding room to change the morning litter boxes. I was hoping that it was the second when I pushed open the door, but every thought I ever had flew out of my mind when I saw the famous Maynard.
    He was a beautiful cat, to say the least. Round, golden eyes set in an inquisitive face met mine as I leaned closer to the cage and smiled cautiously at him. One of the first things I noticed was that Maynard was enormous. Not stocky or fat, but uncommonly tall and not afraid to show it by arching up his back and standing on those lovely tiptoes. The other thing was his nose. Maynard had one of those wide cat noses that just begged for an “Eskimo Kiss,” the kind you just knew was going to be as soft as velvet if he let you get close enough to rub it.
    I opened the bottom half of the kennel first, just in case he got the urge to slap at me like some cats do. Maynard, however, just looked at me calmly with his tiger’s eyes and cocked his head a little. I ventured a hand toward him.
    “Hello, Maynard,” I said softly, hoping my voice was soothing to him. True to unpredictable cat form, he pulled away from me but didn’t get angry or territorial. When you work with cats on a regular basis, you learn quickly to appreciate the little things, so I went back to cleaning his litter box.
    Admittedly, once he and I made our first contact I let my guard down and paid more attention to wiping the footprints off his floor than what Maynard himself was doing. So it was a real surprise when a silly grey and white face dropped in front of mine and bumped my nose with his. Laughing out loud, I stroked his head while he purred and continued to nuzzle my face.
    “This is the one I’m supposed to watch out for?”

    From then on, every morning that Maynard stayed with us we greeted one another with a quick nose touch while I gave him his fresh food. I got so used to his “kitty kisses” that whenever I’d report to the cat room in the morning to find him gone I would get a little sad.
    My favorite thing about Maynard was how he would talk when he ate. There is almost nothing as hilarious or as endearing as a cat trying to growl through a mouthful of Fancy Feast, no matter what kind of mood you were in before he got started. With some diabetic cats, it is a struggle just to get them to eat enough to take their insulin...thank goodness Maynard wasn’t just some cat! Despite his health concerns, Maynard was always a healthy eater and we were never surprised when the scale read a constant 13 pounds.
       
    We had all become so used to his routine that we were more than a little concerned when he began to lay around his cage more often, rather than coming to greet us and see if we had a Pounce treat for him. His Fancy Feast wasn’t disappearing as quickly as usual either, and Maynard seemed like a different cat. It wasn’t like Maynard not to come see me when I reached for his litter box, and when I had successfully removed his food dishes without discussion I knew something was wrong.

    In the few months I knew him, seeing Maynard waiting for his treats became one of the most anticipated parts of my day. Whenever I knew he was boarding, everything seemed just a little brighter and I could always count on one smiling face at the end of a rough day. Sometimes now I walk into the cat boarding room and look toward the one we always called “Maynard’s Place,” and it feels like my heart is breaking when I realize that he’s no longer there for a morning kiss.

    Every animal that I see is a reminder of how incredible the world can be. Every creature that I hold in my arms is a reminder to me of the miracle of life, and the unconditional love that radiates from them gives me the strength to go on when sometimes it seems that the job is getting too hard. Every cat I see is special. But not every cat is as special as Maynard.

    I hope there are lots of Pounce treats in Heaven.



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