By Esme Garbi in Coral Springs, FL
It was four years ago, during a summer break when our daughter was visiting from college. She says to me one afternoon: "I just saw the prettiest bushy tail kitten! And he seems to be lost, mom."
Where from here?
Liking the sun
What's for dinner?
We had four adult cats, and no interest in another one.
The day after, I saw him. Jumping around in my neighbors' lawn, chasing something on the grass. He seemed as happy as a clam and kind of unaware of his surroundings. I thought: "Oh, boy." He looked like something I'd never seen before. His tail was so big for his body! It almost looked like a big squirrel.
That night, he chirped at us through the patio screen. "He must be hungry, mom?" "What is it?" I asked. "Is it really a cat? It doesn't even sound like one!"
He looked odd, and was very skittish. It was definitely a kitten, although rare for us in Florida. We have squirrels and raccoons that look like that; I'd never seen a cat with that bushier of a tail and furry paws.
He will come near our screen but will run away scared if we will get close. My daughter (against my best judgment) put some food for him outside our screen. And that's how it all started...
I didn't want to leave him at the mercy of wild animals or people, but he was impossible to catch (very feral). Calling animal control was out-of-the question for us (feral cats are put to death, no suitable for adoption). Being so feral, it didn't seem logical that he had been lost by previous owners. He was very young.
Still, we covered the neighborhood with flyers and contacted vets and pet shops in the area in hopes that someone will come along and claim property of him. I didn't want a fifth cat. No way!
Well, as you can guess, nobody answered. And little by little, my husband was able to get Mister Whiskers (Whisky for short) used to us. It took about a month of him living in the patio before we were able to catch him and take him to the vet. When they saw him at the vet (they said he was maybe about two or three months old at the time) they told me: "You've got a big boy here!" and laugh. "What do you mean?" I asked. "He's a Maine Coon," they said, but I heard "main coon".
On my way home, I called my husband. I was puzzled about what they have said: “A main coon.” What is that? I called my husband and asked him to Google it. When we saw some of the pictures online of this huge Maine Coons we didn’t know what to expect.
Well, little did we know that our big boy was going to be such a lover boy! He gets along with every single one of our other cats (all female), even with the one that is kind of crazy and it's not sociable with anybody.
He is the sweetest, most loving pet and the best companion. None of our other cats are "groomers" but he is. He licks and kisses everyone all the time. And although I was afraid of a male cat peeing and marking territory all over, we have had none of that with him.
Furthermore, since the other cats are happier they all behave much better now and the crazy one is not having accidents in the sofa anymore.
So, who knew having a fifth cat was going to make things easier? Our Whisky is not the fifth cat at all, he is the main one.
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