Many years ago when I was living in uptown Charlotte NC, I discovered a lovely feral cat living on the grounds of my apartment complex. Before long, she starting coming to my patio with 2 tiny kittens in tow. Somehow she knew I would be a soft touch and an easy meal; she was right.

I began leaving food and water for her and the kittens. Momma cat allowed herself to get fairly close to me, but she would leave her kittens behind and carry food back to them. At least at first. I began to sit closer to the food and talk to her while she ate, and soon she would bring the kittens within a few feet of me. As we continued this daily ritual, over the next few weeks I was able to sit right next to the plate of food while the kittens ate. They would even enjoy a few ear scratches, too.

After a few weeks, momma cat began bringing her kittens right up to my doorstep, and leaving. It was as if she was trying to give them to me, and I felt that I had to bring these little fluff balls inside. After much coaxing, I finally managed to get Honey, the baby calico, and Max, the handsome grey and white boy, into my apartment. Once momma saw that I took her babies inside, sadly she stopped coming around.

Getting through their initial panic of walls, a concept they didn’t understand and which drove them to literally try to climb up those walls, took time and patience. Once I tamed them down, a coworker friend adopted Honey, and Max joined my cats Precious and Sebastian and became part of my cat family. A very shy and sweet cat, I always felt he was just a little uneasy being inside.

Three years later after moving to another city, Max made his escape after slitting open the screened in porch at my condo. Luckily none of my other cats escaped, but Max was gone and I was heartbroken. I put up flyers, walked all over the area, knocked on many doors, and cried a lot of tears. Although a few people called and had spotted him, I was never able to find him and bring him back home.

It’s been 18 years now since Max made his great escape. I have never stopped wondering if he found a new home, I have never stopped worrying about him, and I have never stopped missing his sweet little face. Often I’ve wondered why there were no pet tracking devices available; having something like that would have made all the difference in Max’s fate. Even if a cat has a microchip, people don’t try to catch a stray cat and reunite them with their owners, as they would with a stray dog. Most people who see a cat running loose outside assume it to be neighbor’s outdoor cat.

If my Max had a Pet Tracker Tagg, which is essentially a GPS for your pet, it would have made all the difference in this story. I would have been able to see exactly where he was, I could have found him immediately, and he would have lived to be a ripe old age at home with me where he belongs. Microchips help, but are not a effective as having a GPS chip.

Max is forever missed and he will never be forgotten.

(Note: the photos in the article are actually of our Oliver. Photos of Max were lost long ago, sadly, and Oliver is a look-alike of Max.)