HI! I'm Max, Wanna be friends?

I heard it first. A sound like someone lost a squeaky toy in a thunderstorm. A whimper. Then a lot of feet. People feet. Big ones, small ones, stompy ones. Doors opening, voices whispering, someone stepping on my water bowl AGAIN. But the smell. Whoa. That hit me like a tennis ball to the face.

Fur. Warm. Wet. With a weird mix of "YAY!" and "I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING YET!"

That smell? That was ME.

HI! I’m Max! I AM THE SMELL. I HAVE ARRIVED.

Blanket. Couch. BIG ROOM. Bigger than my crate! My nose popped out first, then my ears, and then the rest of me just kind of flopped out like a burrito of joy.

Wiggle. Trip. Wiggle again. SO MANY TOES TO STUMBLE OVER.

And then—oh. Oh no.

He was there.

Up on the windowsill. Watching me like I was a bug he might swat.

GRAY. FLOOFY. JUDGY.

He didn’t move. He just stared. I stared back. My tail wagged so hard I fell sideways.

The girl showed up. "There you are, Whiskers," she said. (WHISKERS. A name! I LOVE NAMES!) She scooped me up. I licked her face. She laughed. She told the Judgy One, "This is Max. He's just a baby. Be nice, okay?"

Nice! Yes! Let's all be nice!

I wagged at Whiskers. He blinked. I leaned toward him. He glared. I wiggled my whole self at him like a furry noodle of love.

He did NOT noodle back.

Rude.

Day One: Offended Cat is Offended

Everyone looked at me! Everyone said things like, "Awwww," and "He's so small!" and "Oops, he peed again."

Listen. I was excited. And the rug looked like the outside. That's not my fault!

Whiskers didn't come near me all day. He did his ninja-cat thing from high places. He stared. He sniffed. He probably judged my bone collection.

At night, I cried, not on purpose. It just came out. My bed was big and weird and didn’t smell like anything familiar. So I cried.

The humans brought me a sweatshirt. I licked it. They patted me. I cried less.

Later that night, I felt it.

Whiskers. Watching. Breathing near me.

Then—SMACK!

He booped me on the nose.

RUDE AGAIN.

I whimpered. He hissed. I shrank into my sweatshirt.

He sat there like a little king and cleaned his paw.

I didn't know what I did wrong. I just wanted a cuddle.

Days Later: Learning the Rules

Rule One: Don’t sniff Whiskers while he's eating.

Rule Two: Don’t sniff Whiskers while he's sleeping.

Rule Three: Don’t sniff Whiskers.

But I couldn't help it! He was cool! Mysterious! And I didn’t have any brothers or sisters to play with. I thought maybe he could be my buddy.

So I tried again. Every day.

Sometimes I got swatted.

Sometimes I just got the look.

But slowly, I got smarter. I learned to sniff from a distance. I watched how he moved. He flicked his tail when he was annoyed. How he tucked his paws when he was chill.

Once, we sat in the hallway at the same time. Not touching. Not fighting.

That was a win.

One time, I found his favorite napping spot—a warm laundry basket full of clean clothes. I jumped in. He was already there. He did not want to share. I tried to make myself very small. He hissed. I backed out slowly. I understood. Sacred nap spots are sacred.

Then I stole a sock and left it in his food bowl. An offering.

He knocked it out with his paw. But he didn’t knock ME.

Progress.

Thunder Night

BOOM! The sky broke! The whole world shook!

I ran. I hid. I whimpered and shook in my basket. My bones rattled. The sweatshirt didn't help.

Then—soft paws. A tail brushing my basket.

Whiskers.

He sat. Just SAT there like thunder didn’t matter. Like he was made of brave.

I ran to him. Buried my head in his floof. I think I made a sad squeaky noise.

He hissed.

But he didn’t move.

And then—he licked me.

RIGHT ON THE SHOULDER.

I froze. He stayed. We both sat there. Storm and all.

Later, we were on the rug together. Sleeping. My head on his back. His tail over my paws.

The humans smiled.

Team Stuff!

One time, a monster-bug got into the kitchen. I barked at it! Whiskers LEAPT from the counter like a ninja cloud and WHAP! Bug down.

We chased it! I barked! He swatted! I licked it! He made a face like he smelled butt.

We were a TEAM.

They gave us treats. I wagged so hard I knocked over the trash can. Worth it.

One morning, we both wanted the sunny patch on the rug. I got there first and rolled around like a toasted marshmallow. He stared. I scooted over. He joined me. We shared it. Half a sunbeam each.

That afternoon, we watched the birds together. He is on the windowsill. I'm with my paws up on the ledge. He twitched his tail. I wagged mine. He told me which ones were regular and which ones were Important Enemies.

Competition Mode Activated

Sometimes I want love. So I roll! I bark! I flail!

Whiskers just walks up like a boss, puts a paw on someone, and stares like a fuzzy statue. Boom. Scritches. He wins.

Once, I dove into the laundry basket with him to play. I flipped it. He fell out.

Not a win.

Later, we shared the warm towels. Both of us. Side by side. Same sock pillow.

That WAS a win.

Whiskers once leapt onto the bookshelf and posed like a sculpture. Everyone took photos.

So I climbed into the recycling bin.

I got stuck.

Mom had to lift me out. I got a treat, though!

Whiskers rolled his eyes. I think.

Max Learns

If Whiskers flicks his ears twice, I back up.

If he tucks his tail, I can scoot closer.

If he runs—GO TIME! SOMETHING FUN!

I think he respects me now. A little.

In the yard, a squirrel came too close. I barked. He chased. I ran after him! The squirrel ran up a tree. We stood there, panting, tails up. We were WILD.

Later, we got chicken. I went for the big piece. He bapped me. I waited. He gave me a shred.

That’s friendship. I think.

We had a secret mission one morning. Something skittered under the fridge. He saw it first. I saw him looking. We both got down low. CRAWLED. Stalked. I was not very quiet. But he let me try.

We didn’t catch it. But we almost did.

He let me bump his head with mine. He didn’t even growl.

Now

I snore. He naps. Sometimes we touch paws.

Sometimes he licks my ear.

Sometimes I bring him my toys. He pretends not to care.

We still fight. We still race. We still battle for couch space.

But now?

We’re a team.

Just... he’s the boss. And I’m okay with that.

Mostly.

WAG.