King Louie is the cat's meow, if I do say so myself: 20 pounds of muscle, luxurious, medium-length fur that is silky soft to the touch, intense yellow eyes, a strong chin, tall, well-tufted ears, long, long whiskers, a broad chest, well-tufted paws, and a bushy tail that is over half the length of his body.
King Louie is a Maine Coon. He is also my best friend, especially if I happen to be sick (which is often, I'm afraid: I have RA and sometimes I suffer from debilitating pain that threatens to knock me on my rear and keeps me bedfast). He loves nothing more than to lie on my chest (or by my side) and keep me warm and comfy, all the while, purring his face off (what I say when he is purring exceptionally loud).
I have had King Louie for the past five years, ever since he was a bedraggled kitten that first appeared on my doorstep. It was love at first sight. I couldn't resist his pitiful mewls or his intense yellow-eyed stare. I knew I just had to take him in, which is what I did.
We've been best buddies for five years now. I wouldn't trade him for all the gold (or tea) in China (or anyplace else, for that matter!).
My husband is a self-proclaimed dog lover, but King Louie has since managed to wrap his four white paws around Derek's neck. Derek loves him almost as much as I do. We love him so much, in fact, we have claimed him as our "child". We talk about King Louie as though he was a human boy, and we have both managed to spoil him rotten. He follows us everywhere we go when we are in the house, and we delight in his neverending back of tricks. King Louie is very intelligent, and whoever says you cannot train a cat has never met King Louie!
King Louie can fetch wads of paper, say a few words ("Mama", "Louie", "Da-Da, "I don't wanna", etc.), call for help if I have fallen or if I'm sick (he meows exceptionally loud), and open doors, amongst other things. He can also alert us if someething is amiss outside, and he's been known to scare off would-be burglers with his yowls, spits, and hisses.
He is our furry lifesaver!
I especially love it in the mornings, when King Louie wakes me up. He sticks his furry face into mine and nudges me with his cold, wet nose, all the while, mewling plaintively in his odd, high--pitched churring voice. He doesn't meow like a normal cat, even with his immense size: he communicates with a series of chirps, squeaks, and purrs. He also has a very expressive face: one knows how he is feeling when you look at him or see how he acts.
The very presence of our giant-sized Maine Coon is very comforting to us, especially on days where my RA threatens to lay me low. I cannot imagine my world without him; King Louie is my world, and I am his loyal subject!