One of my desires has always been to have a Maine Coon cat. All my cats have been domestic short hairs of unknown origins. And I’ve completely loved them all. Except for that one crazy one. He only stayed a couple of weeks, so who knows, I may have come to love him too if he’d hung around longer. But the someday intention has always been to get a pedigree cat. Not for the pedigree itself, but for all the other perks – beauty, personality, size, beauty…. And the Maine Coon was my first choice. Super-sized, unique temperament, gorgeous long hair. I always knew that *some day* I would have one. But some day was still in the future.

After Baby Kitty had been gone for a while, I started feeling like I needed a new kitten. Mama Kitty would be ok – she’d already had to suffer the indignity of having a dog move into the house after she’d been ousted from her position as Only Cat. I don’t want to talk about the dog yet.

Any kitten we got would be a free or very low cost adoptee. I wasn’t ready to spend hundreds of dollars on a breed that would have to have more attention. A cute mutt cat would be perfect for us. It could be an indoor-outdoor cat like Mama Kitty was and Baby Kitty had been, which would solve the problem of a litter box. I found a little buddy on Craigslist and asked for pictures. It was a very tiny brown tabby cat, so young its eyes were still blue. I wasn’t sure this was the right cat. So small. The owner said that if I didn’t want it he had someone else coming out to look at him. “OK,” I said. “Let the other person come and look and if she doesn’t want the kitten then I’ll take it.”

Sometimes I do that to see if something is meant to be. I really believe if my heart is open to destiny, then putting a little challenge in the path won’t change things. It helps me to feel assured that my choice is in alignment with destiny. It was only a kitten, but I wanted to be sure this was the right kitten. In a few days I got an email – the lady had decided that driving from Spring Hill was too far for just a kitten. We went and got him. I will never forget the crying faces of the little children who had to give up their kitten because of allergies. They had named him Tiger.

We changed his name to Winky. Over the weeks, I gradually realized that Winky was no ordinary cat. I contacted the original owner. “Do you know anything about this kitten?” I asked. He didn’t; they’d rescued the kitten from a college student, that was all he knew. But I was starting to get a clue.

Now almost two years on, it is obvious.  This freebie cat is a true to type, big, fluffy, gorgeous Maine Coon. Everything about him, from the tips on his ears to his tufted paws to the shape of his jaw, to his affable, playful but calm temperament is 100% spot on. I didn’t think I was ready for a full breed cat. Apparently God thought otherwise.

Winky at one year

I use this snapshot of Winky (at a not-yet-fully grown one year old) as the cover image for custom orders in my online jewelry store at



Written by Tina Gasperson

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