As Alexis reached for the door handle, time slowed down just enough for me to catch the litte WIGGLE WIGGLE WIGGLE WIGGLE WIGGLE YEAH out of the corner of my eye. I knew what was about to happen.
"Hey, Alexis. Did you remember to grab your money?" I asked. She didn't really need to have her money with her to go to dance class, but I knew my words would stop her in her tracks. Her little hand pushed the doorknob down, paused, and then pulled away from the door without opening it.
*KA-BLAM*
A puddle of fur sprawled out on the floor. Max's face said, "I meant to do that," but everything else about his demeanor said, "WTH? I've done that a million times and it always works!"
Max's favorite way of sneaking out of the house is to wait for Alexis to approach the basement door. Just as she grabs the doorknob, he takes off at a full run and dashes through a narrow opening before Alexis can figure out that she's been played for a fool. That time, though, the door didn't open, so the cat splatted into the door.
And that's EXACTLY why he's my favorite.
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To be perfectly honest, Max is kind of a demanding little jerk. He'll follow you around launching himself at your legs if he wants picked up, forever leaving your pants with a fur stripe that makes it look like you're wearing orange and white Uggs. Max meows loudly when he wants you to pet him to the point that your ears begin to ring. He is willing to shove his way into pretty much any situation. In fact, during Alexis' birthday party, he risked life and limb by walking through a herd of obnoxious kids because he wanted to be in the family room and he didn't much care if there was anyone in his way.
His most ridiculous habit, however, is his nightly ritual. He insists on spooning with me every night when I go to bed. It's crazy adorabe that he wants to spoon, truly, but he thinks it needs to be done under the covers. He jumps onto my pillow as I climb into bed, and then sits on my head until I lift the blankets for him. He then quickly crawls into his spot, curls up in a ball, and falls asleep purring, but only after he has SAT ON MY HEAD. And if I don't lift the blankets for him, he'll keep sitting on my head, occasionally shoving a paw into my eye. He's all, "I know you're awake. What do you mean you're not? WAKE UP, BEYOTCH." One of these days, I'm pretty sure he's going to manage to get a claw stuck in my eyeball and he'll probably pluck it out and walk around with it, kind of like an eyeball shish kabob.
It's a good thing he's cute.
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Obviously, Max has no respect for boundaries. He thinks the entire house is his kingdom and he positively refuses to be banned from any spot in it. I have tried EVERYTHING to break him of getting on top of the kitchen counters. Wait. I take that back. I haven't tried breaking his neck to see if that will get him to stop, but I have tried EVERYTHING ELSE.
Water with vinegar in it? Pshaw. He laughs in the face of my water bottle.
Throwing a can filled with pennies at him? He thinks you're paying him his allowance.
Aluminum foal? LOOK! IT'S SO SHINY! I CAN SEE MYSELF!
If Max wants to be in a spot in the house, he will go there. That's all there is to it.
See?
I don't know why he thought it was a good idea to jump into a 4" by 6" hole, I just know that he did it. Then he stayed there long enough for me to grab the camera.
But not much longer than that.
And THAT is why he is my favorite cat. It's fun watching Karma slap him around.