Our Story

I was born a poor little orange kitty. It was April 1993, and the world was graced with my presence, and 5 others like me. Anyway, my original family, they were real nice, they called me Fireball. For the life of me, I don’t know why. The little humans amused me, they played with me, and petted me, the big humans fed me, they were the best! As the days went by, so did my brothers and sister, until one day there was just me and my youngest sister left. We didn’t know what was to become of us on that last day in the warm place, because the humans brought us to what I heard one of them say was "the pound".

It was cold in "the pound" and I really didn’t like it. My sister and I were put into the same cell, it was great to have a familiar face near me. It must have been about a week later when a family came by to look at me and my sister. Next thing I knew, this little fat pimply face kid was pointing at my sister! No! I meowed, don’t take my sister without me! But they didn’t listen. They opened the cage, picked up my sister, and that was the last I ever saw of her.

It was probably 2 or 3 days later when I first saw her. She looked into my cage and instantly fell in love with me, it was the eyes. Her fingers poked through the holes of the cage as she tried to call me over. I was very nervous. The prison guard opened my cage. She grabbed a hold of me and cradled me in her arms; NOPE, we will have NO cradling here! I pushed away and cried, yes I was a real baby back then. She put me down and said "I’ll adopt him!" OK, adopt, this was new to me.

About an hour later I found myself in my new home. My new family had a hard time picking out a name for me. She wanted either "Apple Jack" or "Max". He wanted either "Psychopath" or "Lunatic". But "Max" prevailed, I think I look like a Max; tall, sleek, & a tad mischievous. Mischievous, me? So what if I consider the bed, stairs, living room, bathroom, and occasionally the laundry room as my own personal race course? I am Mario Kitty, hear me roar!

 As told by Max
It was a sunny October day and I was going through my usual routine (wake up, stretch, use the kitty box, eat, clean myself, bat my toy, take a nap, wake up, stretch, use the kitty box, eat, clean myself, bat my toy, take a nap). It was a pretty stressful morning.

I was in mid lick when I heard my human outside talking to herself. I strolled over to my ledge and took a peak out of my window by the door. My whiskers shivered at the site my cute little orange eyes gazed upon... another CAT! My human was petting another CAT! Was I being betrayed? I could not believe it! By all that is sacred my human was petting another CAT!

I saw her laughing and rubbing this CAT'S belly! No no no, a cat is not suppose to have their belly rubbed. My human got up, and picked up that CAT! She then walked to the door and brought that CAT in! I couldn't believe it! Praise be Garfield, she brought that CAT in my house!

The next thing I saw was unbearable. She put that CAT on my couch! I walked over to my couch and took a peek at that CAT! She glanced over at me and smiled. Not a "Hey, how are you" kind of smile, but a "Hey, this your couch? Not anymore", kind of smile. What I heard then I knew it was over, my human on the phone talking about a new addition to the family, and her name was Sophie. Sophie? What kind of name is Sophie? Should have named her Tubby, or Lard Butt, or Queen Rotund. This cat was fat! And still is! I hear my humans sometimes calling her Meatloaf. 

Sophie has been living with my family for almost as long as I have. I keep asking her when she's going to leave, she just laughs at me. I don't think she's ever leaving. 

Oh, we get along now, she amuses me. When I have the urge to beat something up, she fits the bill.