When I went to fill Max’s food bowl, I noticed a huge mess in the garden from the overnight’s mega storm. Large hail, strong winds, and heavy rain had knocked over several potted plants and broken branches and high stalks on the plants in the ground.

I immediately stepped outside to clean up. My quick inspection turned into a 1.5-hour garden cleanup project. It wasn’t until I finished that I remembered it was well past Max’s scheduled lunch time! When I looked back at the window, I saw Max standing quietly with a wide-eyed, blank stare. He had his face pressed against the window screen, with one paw resting in the door track and the other tucked into the screen mesh.

I rewarded his patience with a generous portion of his favorite chicken gravy. As usual, he took the lead, guiding me to his dining table and happily enjoying his lunch.

Later, when I went back out to the garden, I saw several tears on the lower part of the window screen. They were Max’s little ‘paw prints’ from resting his paws on the screen during his long wait. Poor boy - he must have waited for his lunch right there for over an hour!

Because of a nearby construction project, I ended up taking a new trail today. Right at the beginning, a sleek, black neighborhood cat crouching in the center of the path, gave me a direct stare. Its jet black made its smoky blue eyes stand out.

While I was trying to figure out what kind of toll I should pay this trail guardian, a morning jogger ran past the cat, calling out, “Good boy!” Seeing that, I did the same. As I walked past, I said, “You’re beautiful!” The cat gave me a big “Meow” in return!

When I caught Max playing with my pencil, he bit it and ran away toward the bedroom. From the hallway, I saw him jump onto the bed and suddenly freeze. He dropped the pencil, his front paws firmly grasping the bed sheet, staring intently as if he saw something.

I slowly walked over to check. Turns out, he was startled by his own reflection in the large closet mirror. It was his first time seeing his “twin brother.”

He calmed down a bit when he saw me, but he refused to leave the bed. I decided to leave him alone, and he spent another 20 minutes studying the image. Since then, he has gotten completely comfortable seeing his twin in the mirror.

When I got inside, Max was standing on top of a high cabinet, looking at me proudly. “Max, you’re a good boy!” I said.

He’s not a climber. He’d only been up there maybe twice. His last time there is around 5 years years ago. I was happy to see him reclaim an activity from his younger days. But when he left, I noticed two deep marks on the dovetail at the edge of the cabinet…

Max begged to go out to the patio on a sunny morning, but I felt too low to go outside with him. So, I left him alone on his patio chair while I sat on the couch inside, watching him.

Sensing my unusual quietness, he turned his head around with a stern look. Then, he came inside and marched right up to me on the couch. He pressed one paw firmly onto my lap (he is not a lap cat) and spread his toes, as if to reassure me, “No worries, I’m around.” He held this pose until I finally got up.

Usually, when he is on his patio chair, he checks on me from time to time, seeking a chance to explore further into the yard while I’m not watching. When he does this, I immediately give him a “stop” sign - one hand flat and the other vertical. Max understands completely that this is a sign of my disapproval.

Like a five-star hotel concierge, Max dutifully waits at the entrance for W’s arrival. The moment W sits on the stairs changing shoes, Max provides an instant shoeshine, rubbing his head back and forth against the shoes. This premium service is strictly limited to W’s leather footwear. Max used to offer me a non-VIP boot-shining service using his paws, leaving scratches on most of my boots. After I stored away my boots, he permanently discontinued the boot-shining service.

Whenever Max hears me going downstairs to the backyard, he immediately emerges from somewhere and rushes ahead to lead me to his food bowl. My footsteps are his dinner bell!

I’m torn. It’s not his scheduled mealtime, but his genuine, pleading look is a total killer. He puts his best effort into pleasing me: a full-body stretch followed by a long meow. I finally figured out a solution: I take a detour through the front door to get to the yard. This detour is seasonal. When winter comes, there is no more yard work, so I don’t need to go downstairs as often.

One day, a neighbour caught me stepping out the front door wearing garden gloves and walking straight to the backyard. “Did you lock yourself out?” she asked. When I told her the reason, she laughed out loud. “Max is the boss!” she said.

One afternoon, I was sitting on the couch, one hand holding a book, my other hand on the cushion. Max came into the room and lounged beside me, people-watching through the window. After about 20 minutes, he rested his head on my hand, lying on his side. He quickly fell asleep, eyes half-closed. When I was about to leave, his head was firmly pressed on my hand. I took this rare moment to continue my reading until Max finally woke up and left 15 minutes later.

That was the first time in almost five years that he had ever used my hand as a pillow. Max isn’t a lap cat, and he rarely lets me pick him up. Since that afternoon, my hand has frequently become his favorite headrest.

One day, W spotted two tiny white hairs on the floor in a far corner of the living room.

“They’re probably my gray hairs,” I said casually.

“No way,” W replied confidently. “We seldom use this corner. They must be Max’s whiskers. He must have been playing around here.”

W was right. I hadn’t cleaned that corner for a while. I was surprised to see W display such sharp observation skills. Like me, W was never a great observer. It takes a lot of love and a very watchful eye to notice those tiny, hidden things.

Max is a wonderful master, teaching us the art of noticing.

After seeing a lovely elevated cat bowl at a friend’s house, we wanted one for Max. I immediately DIYed one by gluing two soup bowls together. W thought it looked a bit rough, so he went online and ordered a fancy one. Even though it had a generic style and pretty average craftsmanship, it was quite pricey!

Max loved the online bowl on day one, but completely ignored it on day two. I decided to test my DIY bowl. Max recognized our regular soup bowls and used my creation for a few days. Eventually, though, he snubbed both options and went right back to his old stainless steel bowl.

Changing Max’s drinking water has become an essential part of my morning gardening rounds. Instead of throwing away his leftover water, I pour it into the saucers under the potted geraniums. This bottom-watering method works beautifully, and the geraniums have been blooming continuously since May.

Max’s contribution to the garden is all thanks to his specific tastes. We used to have a cat fountain, but Max didn’t like using it. He only started drinking regularly once we switched back to the old-fashioned way. Now, every morning, I fill his bowl with room-temperature boiled water, the old-school style that Max prefers.

Running late for a sketch meetup, I skipped filling Max’s treat bowl like I usually do and rushed toward the door. As I sat down to put on my shoes, Max laid down on his side , and the moment I reached for my backpack, he firmly wrapped his front paws around the strap and gave me a protesting stare. I had no choice but to hand over a few kibbles to buy my exit pass.

When Max first joined us, I kept a firm rule: the bed was off-limits. However, I gave him the green light after a year, as our bond grew and the boundaries began to blur.

Then one day, I overheard W talking to a new cat parent: “Max used to sleep on the bed at his previous home, so it was almost impossible to keep him off ours. I caught him on the bed just one week after he arrived. Since then, Max occasionally sneaked in a nap whenever Bree was away.”

I was so surprised to learn that Max had been living a double life for a year! He was patiently waiting for full bed access, secretly knowing exactly how to navigate between W and me. A smart boy!

Clearly, I am not a great observer. I never noticed a single trace. Max’s white hair is impossible to spot on white sheets.

I walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night only to catch Max standing right next to a plate on the table, licking his lips. Instead of panicking and bolting like he used to when he first moved in, he just stood his ground and gave me an unbothered side-eye.

It was my fault, I forgot to put the plate away after finishing my egg tart. Those leftover crust bits are Max’s treasured snack; he goes crazy for the buttery pastry. We always try so hard to keep them out of his reach. Even though we often enjoy egg tarts sneakily when Max is not around, he always keeps a close eye and has a sharp nose for ungarded pastries.

After a week at the sitter’s, Max picked up a resourceful new habit. He began thoroughly cleaning his bowl and finishing any pieces that fell outside of it.

Because Max is a fast eater, he often splashes bits onto the floor. I used to clean his bowl and the silicone placemat after every single meal.

What we didn’t expect was for Max to go the extra mile. He carried this habit into the kitchen, scavenging for delicious dropped bits on the floor. It really worried me at first. Because of this, I now keep the kitchen floor spotless after preparing meals or cooking. The kitchen looks much tidier now!

Max is changing me for the better!

I was drawn to a succulent at a small garden centre. It had clusters of striking scarlet flowers and thick, fleshy leaves in silvery green. I suddenly thought of Max when i was at the checkout. Would this plant be toxic to him?

The plant information tag was missing. The staff told me it was a “propeller plant,” so I wanted to do a quick online search to check its toxicity. Unfortunately, there was no internet access there. I ended up passing on the plant.

I checked it once home, i couldn’t find this plant on the ASPCA’s toxic plant list. Since it’s a relative of the toxic jade plant, I decided to take the precautionary approach.

Thanks to ’s recent post, I realized that I’ve unknowingly kept several houseplants that are toxic to cats, such as snake plants and potho. Even Max’s favourite lemon cypress is mildly toxic to cats.

Thankfully, Max quietly supports my plant passion. He has zero interest in touching any of them. Even though, now i’ve cautiously put those toxic plant out of his reach and whenever i am going to bring new plant, i will check its toxicity first.

Reference

• ASPCA American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals

A sudden pang-pang sound came from the basement. When I went downstairs to investigate, I saw Max aggressively swatting at something under the couch and heard a faint squeaking sound.

Terrified of mice since childhood, I quickly called W down to witness Max’s hunt. My brain was racing. How did a mouse get inside? What kind of damage had it already done?

After a few minutes of fierce fighting under the sofa, Max emerged victorious. He proudly dropped a dark brown mouse right in front of W. W immediately started laughing. It was a squeaky toy mouse we bought Max more than five years ago! He had lost interest after just a few plays, hiding it away.

As Max gets older, we are always looking for ways to keep him active. We were thrilled that he had “rediscovered” his old toy and was treating it like a brand-new one.

After five years of sitting in the dark, the toy’s battery was almost dead. It wasn’t designed for an easy battery replacement. I rejected W’s idea to just buy an identical replacement. Instead I carefully cut open the seam, swapped the battery, and stitched it back up. The mouse was squeaking perfectly again.

But Max’s interest disappeared along with the toy again after just two weeks. Luckily, we hadn’t bought him a new one!

It was an early morning with a light drizzle. I was doing my morning garden round. Max stayed inside and watched me through the window. Suddenly, I saw a bobcat with a white-tipped tail walk across the garden. It was huge, about 1.5 times the size of Max. I rushed back inside. Contrary to my panic, Max was not upset by the wild visitor at all. He just looked worried by my shocked face. Max had likely seen these white-tipped critters through the window many times before.

W was settling into the old IKEA POÄNG chair with a bowl of chips and an iPad. W was just a few minutes into this quiet moment when Max dashed abruptly from another room, jumped onto W’s chest, and forcefully stuck his head into the bowl. I came to the rescue and took the bowl away.

Ever since Max got a taste of some leftovers one day, he goes crazy whenever W has chips. W initially tends to spoil Max with a tiny bite, but I set a strict rule: all chips are off-limits to Max.

Max is not a lap cat, he has sat on W’s lap only once in seven years. But he suddenly becomes a chest cat just for a snack.