Today is an anniversary for Maxine and me.
On February 9th, (in the year of our lord) 2000, we rolled into town, settled down and began calling Key West our home.
This past Friday, April 1st, was my girl Maxine's 13th birthday. Max adopted me back in 1998 when, for some God only knows why reason, I wandered into the Philadelphia Humane Society Shelter on a snowy December night.
The nice ladies at the shelter told me she was 8 months old and I counted backwards and figured she'd been born in April.
In my imaginative/poetic/artistic/twisted mind, I decided that April Fools Day was her actual birth date. (Why the hell not?)
The nice ladies at the shelter put Max and I in a small room together for a little while and we buddied up right away. It was like we recognized each other from a previous life. (yeah, the concept of reincarnation is a real deal to me) I mean, think about it. . . a shaky homeless kitten and a leather jacketed punk driving a T-Bird. What are the odds?
I'd never had a feline life-form in my world before, with me it was always a dog or nothing. But somehow, on that cold December night, bringing this cat home felt like the right thing to do - so I did.
Of course at that point in our relationship, her name was not Maxine. Her previous owners and the "official" adoption paper-work called her "Kirby" which sounded like a brand of vacuum cleaner to me and I thought, really sucked. So for the next two months, while I waited for the divine inspiration, my new roomy remained nameless. Then one night in February, my state of the art sound system was playing Donald Fagan's collection called "The NightFly". The 4th track on that album is a very easy piece called "Maxine".
I knew right then it was gonna be all good and it has been
ever since.
So, that's my sappy story and I'm stickin' to it.
Happy birthday Maxine, you knucklehead.
Of all the female life forms I've ever lived with, (and that's a handful) Maxine is the first to thank me for leaving the seat up.
