On this day, July 31. We celebrate Max's death day.

He was an incredibly chill cat, very cute and a good boy. His interests included quietly talking, sleeping, and eating good treats. He was a constant companion to my brother. He wasn't much of a mouser and wouldn't go for four shillings in Wales, but with Timmy by his side, he kept the peace in this corner of the neighbor hood. With his passing at the rough age of 17, other cats will rise to take the throne, and he leaves his brother behind to tend to the humans.

Requiem post vitae.

In the words of our family, "Nite Nite." May travelers here be blessed by my family.
A poem:

What dusty roads take them,
Nine lives.

Enamoured by the bright eyed humans,
with tails to tell, what stories they speak.

Thus ends a day in life,
and dawns the day after.