This is a big Maine Coon Cat, even for Maine Coons. He’s a little overweight ( I hate that) but he is still just very big. The male Coons can run up to 20 pounds and this one is well over that. Male Maine Coons take a full 5 years to mature.
McGonnigle the Cat
I rescued my cat, McGonnigle, from bad people who lived in the apartment next to mine. I had no idea he was anything at all until I noticed that he kept changing even at 2 and 3 years old. His “ruff”, or, the fur around his head, kept getting longer and he filled out quite a bit. Then I googled “Maine Coon” one day and there was a cat that was a ringer for him! I then read up and realized that my guy was probably well over 85% Maine Coon!
They are the best cats by far. If I ever get another cat, it HAS to be a Maine Coon, no question. They are the most even-tempered. They are smart. They like to be around people they trust. They are as close as you’ll ever come to a dog, in a cat. My guy has just the strongest little will and sense of self. All the good attributes with none of the bad. But he’s not this big. My guy is only 11 to 13 pounds and that’s not terribly big by Maine standards. –fog
Mcgonnigle is a very loooong cat, as this photo attests.
Here is a good shot of McGonnigle’s tail. It defies description really and you must see it–thus, the picture. It doesn’t get tangled. It always looks like this.
Here is a shot of McGonnigle yawning, believe it or not. No, he’s not snarling because he’s hissing or yowling, he’s just yawning. But check out how his whiskers change color; sometimes growing white and sometimes growing black. They change randomly. Go figure.
[Gonnicle, in profile, in winter.]
The following addendum was written by myself in response to some pretty rude and childish comments left recently:
This is McGonnigle, owner of McGonnigle the big orange Maine Coon Cat. Since this genius has brought it up, let’s talk about this sentence: “I rescued my cat, McGonnigle, from bad people who lived in the apartment next to mine.”
There was an apartment next to mine. I was younger and trying to save some money living on the edge of the bad section of town. My apartment had one neighbor and we shared a staircase to the street. They had McGonnigle, and an even more beautiful (if that’s even possible) silver Coon. They got them as kittens in the Spring of 1999.
The landlord was sleeping with this 21 year old derelict boy’s mother and so he let the kid rent the apartment next to mine. The super told me that and also predicted that it would last, “…about six months” (he nailed it). The 21 year old boy had an 18 year old stripper, live in girlfriend. He used to smoke crack and sleep days and did nothing for money that I could see. Then he started beating her pretty regularly. She got pregnant and had a miscarrige somewhere in there and was taken out in an ambulance hemmoraging at one point.
After one beating, he must have bruised her because she couldn’t dance with the bruises and so the muscle boys over at the Bada-Bing (this is NJ – surprise, surprise) paid my neighbor a visit and completely destroyed the front door to the apartment. I walked in at lunch from work and could see the kid passed out on the floor with the kindling all over the room. This was 1pm or so.
A little while later on another night, the beating got so bad that I looked through my peep hole in my door to see the 18 year old in the hall naked, having her arm closed in the door pretty hard and you can imagine the yelling and screaming that accompanied all this. I called the police and they appeared in time to see her in the hall and that freaked me out because this guy had to know that I called.
Anyway, the 21 year old boy skipped out and the scumbag landlord who was sleeping with the kid’s mom tried to pin the apartment damage on the girl. She lived there a few more days or a week or two by herself and then she split.
I kept hearing McGonnigle crying and crying inside their apartment but I had no way of knowing who lived there. I did not know at the time that the place was empty. But the cries of the cat disturbed me because they were distressed. So I called the landlord to inquire. The super answered. I asked where they landlord was and he said “out of town and not available”. That’s New Jersey for “on the lamb” from something. The super said that the “couple” was moved out and that he’d come by and get the cat and take care of it.
So the next day after work, the cat is still in there hollering and the super had been there and gone. I thought that was odd. But the crying was distressed, like I said and I now felt reasonably secure in the knowledge that the idiot couple was gone. So I knocked and knocked and when I was satisfied that I wouldn’t be surprising a passed out hoodlum inside, I got a butter knife out of my kitchen and jimmied my way in in about 10 seconds. That I’ve never done that and yet had no trouble didn’t reassure me as to my own place’s security.
Inside the apartment was a horror show of trash and garbage. Except there was nothing edible in the garbage bags. The cat had licked every single molecule of edible ANYthing from inside of jars and everything. And there he was: McGonnigle, franticly meowing at me and his fur all matted down and looking half starved. I took him to my place and gave him a can of catfood I had for a stray I liked in the back and he wolfed it all down in about a minute and then puked it all up and then ate half of it back before I cut him off so he wouldn’t repeat that. He was starving so he loved it, naturally.
Then I did something that I still feel bad about. I put him back in the filthy apartment and locked the door and closed it. I just didn’t feel right taking the cat from THOSE people. I don’t know why but I didn’t do it. I know I didn’t have a litter box, but I recall that it was something else.
At work all the next day it haunted me. What if the super hadn’t come the other day? What if he comes back? What if he takes that cat and drops him at some pound? I was bummed. I left work and drove home and made up my mind that if Gonnicle was still there, then I was going to break back in and take him and adopt him. He was there and I did just that. I got a litter box and fed him and he was pretty smelly as a starving cat will give up the grooming to save energy. But it’s funny, you know, on that first full night when he stayed with me, I had to go to bed real early for work. I barely had time to get the cat and then go to the store and buy litter stuff and toys and then pretty much went to bed. I turned the lights out and got in bed and then I felt McGonnigle climb on my bed and go to sleep between my legs and I thought for a first night in a strange place, that was pretty cool.
No one ever came back. No one ever asked about him. I had even told others in the building that I had the cat and there was nothing left but the echo. The lease ended (mercifully) and I got the hell out of there and I still wonder why I picked that neighborhood and put up with all of that. McGonnigle lives with my parents where he has been an outdoor cat ever since. He LOVES outside. He hunts and does very well and eats and sleeps inside. In fact, I saw him today and he had ripped a bird apart and presented it to us. He was happy and proud to share it. He is a very beloved cat, as cats go. He has a very strong little will and sense of life, I can vouch for that, certainly.
To the guy who wrote the very rude comment: you’re not clever; you’re not funny–not even a little. You should spend less time watching CNN and reading the New York Times and if that went over your head, well, then, I’m not surprised.
–Fog (aka McGonnigle)