The best day is the day you discover your furry soulmate. The worst day is the day you say good bye.

In between, Maine Coons remind us they are different, very different. Maines are Maines; they will either capture your heart or drive you to distraction.

Max was my best friend, and I have had the fortune to have had many amazing animals bless us with their presence.

Max, was different.

Max drove my wife crazy with his nocturnal singing, but she was devastated by his loss, despite having uninterrupted sleep now.

Our boy was a welfare case, and I happened to be on a long assignment away from home when he was offered to me.

I accepted the offer sight unseen, and later that night I watched this supersized bear turn up at the doorstep.

28 pounds of fur, a tail flying like a flag pole. That was 10 years ago, and about the last time I had a good nights sleep, and I wish he was still there with us. Sleep is overrated.

Max put me into hospital 7 days after his arrival. A local siamese took umbrage to Max being around, and at some point in the past someone had declawed Max.

I can understand the motivation to doing such a radical procedure, but frankly I found it barbaric, and Max was left nearly defenseless, other than the 3 1/2 front teeth that he had remaining.

At 15 months old, Max had had a fairly eventful life. Stopping cats from squaring off across a window comes with consequences, I ended up with a course of antibiotics that didn't help, and systemic blood poisoning which had a rapid onset 7 days later while I was flying a Learjet in close formation with my B737 in a flight test.

Surprising seeing vermillion as a colour creeping up an arm from a bandaged bite site.

Max took to terrifying our housekeeper, he would open up drawers in any bedroom, then hop inside,. lie on his back, and then walk the drawer closed, until the housekeeper passed by, at which time he would start sliding the drawer out and back in, enjoying the squeal of fright he gave the poor victim.

This Maine spent a lots of his time lying on his back, legs precariously extended laterally, like an unfortunate hedgehog on a highway. Alternatively, he would be found draped over the arm of the Chesterfield looking like a throw rug.

After some years of bonding with Max, it was time for me to return to my family back in Australia, and Max followed after completing all of the processes. He tolerated quarantine better than my wife took that, and settled down to his life in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney.

Max confused most of the local wildlife, although he merely sat back and watched the parrots and cockatoos with interest and no animosity, he would share his dinner bowl with sundry wildlife quite calmly.

My work took me away once again during CoViD, flying international medivac jets, and not being able to return to home, Max took t to to WhatsApp and Zoom well, and a small consolation was afforded. A strange cat.

Post CoViD, I took time off to be at home with Max, he was showing some signs of ageing, and we had some quality time.

When I was at home, he changed allegiances and was steadfastly my companion, but he was loved and doted on by Gael, my wife. Of all of the animals we have had over 40 years together, Max received the top shelf service.

Last month, after having been overseas for a period on an R&D project for a couple of months, I got home, amid some concerns that that his behaviour had changed subtly.

Max was on treatment for issues around his rear legs, and was used to having the vet visit monthly to provide his care at home, but this time, in discussion with the vet, Gael suggested that an ultrasound might be worthwhile, and the vet had a portable system with her.

Watching the imaging, Gael and I recognised the image of tumours in his liver, and a Quick Look around his lymphatic system showed secondaries.

Max was sedated already and we had a sad decision to make. In reality, the decision was made the moment we saw the shadow on his liver.

The depth of feeling Gael and I had for Max made it a painful act to undertake, but the same depth of love for this raucous, massive fur ball was such that to have him endure any pain was not an option.

Extending his life at all to satisfy our own feelings is not an option with a part of the family that you care for so deeply.

Max passed away in my arms, as many of our other cats and dogs have done before, as painful as all losses are, Max's loss was on a different plateau of loss.

He was larger than life, was unlike any other cat we have had, and from my research so far is more or less what Maine Coons are. Maines are different, Max was a rather different Maine.

During his time with us, Max spent time with dingoes that took up residence at our property, and was unperturbed by them, they in turn never worked out what he was.

The local foxes also could be found sleeping beside him on the lawn... he was a curiosity to all concerned.

We are remaining cat-less at home for now, but that usually lasts for a few weeks before the first wild cat turns up.

In the Philippines, we have 5 cats, all looked after by housekeepers, all saves, and in Malaysia, we have another 4.

Occasionally, 2 of these exhibit Maine like posture, but Maines are Maines, and someday, I hope to spend enough time in one spot to have another Maine, but I am sure I want to have him or her with me all the time possible, I regret every second that I missed spending with this remarkable creature.

I'm a dog person, but Max cured me of that. Gael is a cat person, and she has saved many wild cats, but Max almost turned her into a dog person, but, after some years, she became as entranced with Max that she could also overlook the oddities that arise at 2AM.

I doubt that she will hold out for long on accepting another walk-in, and she has changed her position on Maines over time from never again, to maybe, to feeling the emptiness of a house without the presence of a Maine.

Max, 2012-2024, a fur ball that graced our lives.

Worst cat, ever, wish he was with us still.

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