Those who know me well are always asking about my semi-evil gigantic cat, Romulus. Three summers ago, I was a volunteer at PAWS, a no kill animal rescue shelter in Chicago, and I somehow convinced Jeff to let us foster a kitten in our tiny 44th floor high rise apartment.
Our little city kitty was only seven weeks old, and we immediately failed as foster parents—which means we didn’t have the heart to give him back when the two weeks were up.
That’s when Romulus pulled one over on us. He went from three pounds—a tiny little thing that I had carried home on the bus undetected—to the giant creature you see above. We found out about three months in that he’s a Maine Coon, the largest breed out there. A look at Google image search for full grown Maine Coons gave us a look at our future. I’m told they grow for three years, so it seems Romulus may have finally reached full size (we recently measured him at roughly 3.5 feet head to tail).
So I was playing with a potential photo booth setup using my Wonderland backdrop tonight (more on that soon—I have some cool ideas in the works, including wireless sync of photos to the iPad for viewing), and I picked up Romulus to be my photo buddy. When it synced to the iPad, I couldn’t stop giggling. He’s like a giant kitty mustache. I had to share.
