06/16/2026
My son came home from college in May with two duffel bags, a semester’s worth of environmental science opinions, and absolutely no intention of adopting a cat.
He was twenty years old, passionate about wildlife conservation, and determined to improve the world one recycling bin at a time.
For the first week, he reorganized our entire garage recycling system and left articles on the kitchen counter about sustainable living.
I love him dearly.
He is... a lot.
Then he discovered a local Maine C**n rescue.
Three days later, he was volunteering.
A week after that, my phone rang.
“Mom, I need to talk to you about something.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“How many?”
A long pause.
“Two.”
Of course.
Their names were Apollo and Sage.
Two young Maine C**n brothers who had been surrendered together after their previous family could no longer care for them. They had spent their entire lives side by side. The rescue was trying everything possible to keep them together, but space was limited and adopters willing to take a bonded pair were rare.
My son met them once.
That was all it took.
He came home that evening carrying two oversized carriers and the expression of someone who had already made a life-changing decision.
Apollo was a magnificent silver-and-white boy with a thick lion-like ruff and wise amber eyes.
Sage, his equally fluffy brother, was darker, with a dramatic mane and the kind of gentle gaze that seemed to look straight into your heart.
My son sat across from me at the kitchen table like he was presenting a business proposal.
“They belong together,” he said. “I’ll handle everything. Food, litter, grooming, vet visits. All of it. They’re my responsibility.”
And to his credit, he did.
Every feeding.
Every brushing session.
Every vet appointment.
Every late-night play session when two giant Maine C**ns decided that 2 a.m. was the perfect time to sprint through the house.
All summer long, those boys followed him everywhere.
When August arrived, it was time for him to return to school.
The night before he left, I found him sitting on the living room floor with Apollo curled against one side of him and Sage pressed against the other.
He stayed there for a long time.
The next morning, he stood in the doorway, looking at them.
“Mom...” he started.
“You don’t need to ask,” I said.
Apollo and Sage weren’t going anywhere.
His eyes filled with tears.
He’d probably deny that part if you asked him.
But it happened.
Now, whenever he comes home for breaks, those two Maine C**n brothers race to the door before anyone else can reach it.
They still sleep in his room.
They still follow him from room to room.
And somehow, even though they were supposed to be his rescue cats, I think they rescued all of us a little, too.
The articles on the kitchen counter have mostly stopped.
Apollo and Sage are home.
And so are we. ❤️🐾
**n
