Since I’ve written a couple of posts now about Annie, my crazy, wonderful Australian Shepherd, it feels only fair that I should also feature my big, beautiful Maine Coon cat, Gatsby.
Gatsby is almost fifteen years old. I got him when I was a senior in college, and he was just a scruffy little kitten.
Boy did he grow.
I didn’t know when I adopted him that he was a Maine Coon. I just figured he had a little extra fluff, and really, don’t we all? But here we are, all these years later, and he’s grown into a gentle giant with a huge personality.
He has a knack for always finding the sunniest spots.
And the best angles to show off his handsome face.
He and Annie are…not friends…but we’ve managed. Gatsby makes it easy, honestly. His favorite thing to do is nap, so they don’t see much of each other.
At fifteen, I know he’s an old man, but I’m so happy I found him, and I cherish every moment with him. He really is a special animal.