If you've ever been to my house, you might be under the impression that you're special because Max saw you, lit up like a Christmas tree, and was all, "LET'S BE FRIENDS, FRIEND!"
I'm sorry to break it to you, but you're not special. Max loves everyone. E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E.
The kid who traumatized Ali when she was a kitten, thus turning her into the wussy fluff of cowardice that she is now? (Long story...I won't bore you with the details.) Max loves that kid.
The guy who once came to fix our fridge and ended up making it sound like we have a drum kit in the kitchen? Max was in looooove with him and his groovy pipe-banging beats.
The herd of kids who were at our house for Alexis' birthday party? Max made sure to introduce himself to every single screamy one of them. Twice.
Max is super-friendly because Max is a punk. He will steal food off of a plate, walks across my kitchen counters, and opens the door when I try to go to the bathroom. Total punk. But because he's so damn loveable and friendly, I forget that he's a punk and end up picking him up and squishing him with love. His ability to love anybody and anything is what keeps him alive.
Of course Max's propensity to love extends to the latest fuzzball to enter our home. When we showed up with Penny, Max greeted her with open paws. If I'm not mistaken, he gave her a basket of cookies and a fern as a housewarming gift. Max doesn't actively seek Penny out, but he's certainly willing to share space with her.
Even if she is five pounds of spunk and mischief.
The thing with Max, though, is that he's more than willing to admit that he loves having Penny around. He doesn't just cower in the corner and wait for her to waddle away, he tries to give her hugs.
He smooshes her chubby cheeks and tells her that she's cute.
Max lets Penny borrow his tail for a prosthetic leg.
And he invites her to take a nap with him.
Seriously. SO. MUCH. LOVE.