After losing our 17 yr. old Bambi, I needed to find another pussycat that was warm, loving and affectionate.  I'd learned that Maine Coon cats were very loveable, so I set out on a search to adopt a stray.  After about a month, a saw an add placed by the PUFF organization for an adoption on Sunday at a local pet store.  I called that morning; YES they had a Maine Coon for adoption.

"What time does the adoption start", I asked.  At 11:00am - 20 minutes from now!!  You've never seen anyone rush so fast to a pet store.  As the doors opened, I was first in line and raced to find the Maine Coon.  There he was, 7 months old, all black, scared to death and absolutely beautiful!  I had him in my arms for only minutes when a lady asked me if I was interested in him, and if not, she definitely was.  Without a moment's hesitation I emphatically stated, "YES!"

So a scared lil guy came to his new home that day.  Rascal had come from a home where he was not treated very well, and trusted no one.  However, he allowed me to carry him around, laying on his back and was very content this way.  After a year of this, he finally allowed me to sit down and hold him for 30 seconds!  With lots of TLC we gradually worked up to 1 minute, 5 minutes, etc.

After about 2 years, Rascal finally decided that I was the "cat's meow", and we became the best of buddies.  I don't know who needed and gave more love, Rascal or me!  His favorite toy was a small ball that looked as if it was made out of tinsel.  We named them "fuzzy balls".  Rascal learned to play baseball with the fuzzy ball, he'd catch it, bat it back at you and happily pounce on it, kill it and parade around the house chirping his "I've just killed a mouse" song.

It's easy to lose these lil fuzzy balls in the house, so we had quite a supply.  Once a week, Rascal and I would go on a fuzzy ball hunt, armed with a flashlight and yardstick.  We'd check under all the furniture and he'd talk to me as we found each one.  We once found 17 on one hunt!  I'd then place them in a circle and watch as he'd sneak up and pounce on them one by one.

He was a great mouser!  He'd protect us during the night from all sorts of varmints, and leave his "kills" in the hall outside the bedroom.  These "kills" could be anything from gloves or photographs to his biggest achievement - a paperback book.  I would love to have seen him dragging that down the hall.

Well, it's quieter now when I come home, Rascal is no longer at the door chirping to be picked up and loved.   We lost him recently to cancer and heart disease.  He was only 7.  There's a very loud quiet in the house at times - he was a very, very special lil guy.  7 years is much too short a time, but I'm glad we shared them; he's given us many wonderful memories.  I'm sure he's very busy now chasing fuzzy balls all around heaven.