Big Boy, a Glorious Cat

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BB, aka Big Boy

A Maine Coon lives inside my phone. At least I dream that he does when I look at the wallpaper on my phone. When my husband noticed the picture, I told him that the cat will be my second husband.

While I was mostly teasing him with this claim, there is some truth to it. I had two cats pass away in their old age not long before I was married for the first time in my forties. I am not yet ready to open my heart to another cat, at least not on a full time basis.

In the meantime, I collect pictures of cats, the bigger and puffier the better. There’s something irresistible about a cat who is larger than a dozen small dog breeds. No perfectly tuned car engine can rival the purr of an overgrown house cat.

My daughter and I have lately visited a mammoth cat during our neighborhood walks. We call him BB, for Big Boy or Bowling Ball. He slinks from his porch to weave around our legs and roll before us.

I revel in these moments with BB, but I know is it not time yet to bring a cat home, to have a mountain of cat doze on me as I read myself to sleep.

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