When I was a kid, we had a Maine Coon cat.
His name was Hero, and the city kids who happened through our suburban neighborhood were once heard identifying him as a bobcat.
He was a really awesome cat–a great hunter, and very affectionate. Of course, combine the two and you become the hunted. Hero was known to jump out of the bushes and attack our legs, or steal the hat off my head in the winter, or bear-hug you (with claws) if you tried to leave before he wanted you to.
There was an orange tomcat named OJ two doors down that sometimes came into Hero’s territory, and we’d hear the noisy posturing of the toms and let the dog out to chase off the interloper.
Our dog was a miniature black poodle–actually a pretty well trained little guy, trained by my mom and the indoor Siamese–and he would happily chase off OJ and then come back to touch noses with Hero.
There is something special about going outside and being sought out by the animals that live outdoors–just for companionship. I have fond memories of going out to play in the yard and being joined by our giant fluffy cat.
I should find a picture of him and paint it.
But this gray fluffball spoke to me, reminded me of him. Fear the might of the angry Maine Coon! He just looks like he should be named after Gandalf the Grey, Stormcrow, Lothspell, Mithrandir….just about any of those really work, I think.
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