I adopted Frankie about 14 years ago from a man named Chad, who said he didn't have the time to give the kitten the attention he craved. Yes, his original name was Frankie, and it fit him so well I never changed it.

When I first met him, Frankie was only a few months old. He was on his back on Chad’s kitchen floor, purring up a storm, with a stomach so round he looked like he’d swallowed a tennis ball. He was always a Chonk, and at his heaviest, weighed 15 pounds. Chad said he thought Frankie was half Maine Coon, and he certainly looked like it, and had the silly Coonie personality.

My other cat, Zeek (more later) was a pure-bred Maine Coon, and I was inspired to buy him by the cat that preceded him, Willie Bo-Bo. I rescued Willie from a shelter, where they told me he was unfriendly and had been there for a while. Apparently, our relationship was meant to be, because Willie and I were a team from Day One. He was a radical change from his predecessor, as I went from an elegant Siamese to a huge, gray goofball with enormous paws and a big fluffy tail.

After some research, I determined Willie was mostly Maine Coon, and I fell in love with these lunatics. Part of the reason I took Frankie was because I could see the Maine Coon in him. But he soon proved to be a unique individual.

He was the sweetest cat ever. His purr was so loud I could hear him all over the house, no matter what room he was in. He was always wherever I was, not always sitting on me but close by. He hogged the bed, though, and when I held him like a baby, he would reach up to touch my face.

I adopted Frankie when Zeek went walkabout. I lived in a second-floor apartment and left the door to the deck open one warm night. The next morning, the place had that awful, empty, "no cat" feel—Zeek was gone. A neighbor told me later she'd seen him deliberately jump down from the deck, about eight feet.

I put out flyers, registered with a pet finding service, set out traps (I caught the same little black cat three times), put ads up around the neighborhood and in the paper, but nothing worked. I couldn't stand it, so when Chad’s ad appeared saying he was looking for a good home for Frankie, it seemed perfect.

Then Zeek came home! Fortunately, after some spitting and hissing, they bonded.

I lost Zeek in 2017, and Frankie moped. So, I spent way too much money and purchased two pure-bred Maine Coons, because those huge, goofy, floppy cats are my favorites, as I said. Also, I'm old, so they will be my last cats. I wanted my favorite breed, so I followed my heart.

Using the Jackson Galaxy model, I introduced Frankie to his new roommates Jack (short for Captain Jack Sparrow) and Barnaby very slowly. After a month, the three were buddies and remained close until Frankie died, December 28, 2022.

Now, although I love my big lugs dearly, I still miss the little guy so much I cry sometimes, usually in the silliest circumstances, like over the rutabagas at the store. Mostly I miss his sweet nature. And that purr! We’re in Washington State, but I’m sure they heard him in Chicago. I hope he and Zeek are together again, kicking butt and taking names, and having a wonderful time. ________________________________________