Winter 2010 SS RV .pub - Maine Coon Breeders and Fanciers

The Official Publication of the Maine Coon Breeders and Fanciers association
Winter 2010
Index:
Hamlet’s Cat………. 2
Notes from
All Over ………. 3
Book O the Cat .. 5
The Scratch Sheet
The Maine
Addiction……….7
Kitten page…………..9
Cat Show
Dictionary……10
Pennies From
Heaven……….12
Nepeta Coons...15
Moving with
Connie Condit
….18
Officers pages,
Dues
….14, 17
Stuff
…. …...20
So Much for Global Warming
Mainerd sez: Looks
like I’m back in business at the copy
desk; doing my book
reviews. New editorial staff for me to
break in and sheesh!
Change-overs are a
beach. It’s going to
take a lot of late
hours to whip the
new
editors
in
shape, although the
former one, while
she’s probably forgotten all she ever
knew about putting
out an issue, should
catch on without too
much hassle. The
new co-editor, I surmise, is younger and
smarter….I hope.
No offense, mom.
“We Coons are indoor cats—Right?
Sure am glad I’m
not a squirrel…”
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Notes from your new editors
Out of necessity because we’re running late,
this issue is going to be a bit of a mix of the old
and the new. In addition to the change in editors,
we’ve an election coming up and so quite a few
things in MCBFA are in flux. And putting out the
Scratch Sheet does involve computers which, this
winter, have become quite contrary—for both of
us. Holly’s crashed and burned and she’s had to
invest in a new one. Mine just crashed and with a
bit of skillful prodding on the part of my computer
guy, is now back up and running. Having edited
the SS for some 5 years, however, I did keep all
my files. (Although beating Publisher, the software
program, into submission is still the same old fight it
always was) For the older members, you’ll no doubt
remember a lot of the things herein. For the new
members, this will hopefully entertain you until we’ve
got things running smoothly. The graphics will change
and some pages, like those of membership dues and
officers. As said, I edited the magazine for a good
spell. I’m a writer by profession, cat breeder (no
longer active) by avocation, quilter, artist and a lot of
other things, no doubt better not alluded to. But I’ll
take the helm until Holly has a bit of experience under
her belt. She, Holly Reilly, is a provisional member of
MCBFA and owner of BoundingMaines Cattery in
Florida. She’s had a varied career, too: wife, realtor,
computer expert, newsletter editor and so she’s a
busy critter. Who was it that said: “If you want a task
done quick with dispatch, give the job to a busy person”? Well, that’s Holly. Both of us will contrive to give
the membership an informative and interesting magazine. BUT! In order to do this, we really need the input
(photos, stories, comments, letters and cartoons) from
the members. And they need not be limited to just our
Coons. I’m sure we all like to read about cats in
Kit
general as well.
Let snow, let it snow...
Page two
Great news! A lost manuscript
from Shakespeare’s time has just come
to light: the missing soliloquy of…
Hamlet’s
Hamlet s Cat
To go outside and there
perchance to stay or to remain
within: that is the question:
Whether ‘tis better for a cat to
suffer the cuffs and buffets of
Inclement weather
that nature rains on those
who roam abroad
Or take a nap upon a
scrap of carpet, and so by dozing
melt the solid hours
that clog the clock’s bright gears
with sullen time and stall the dinner bell.
To sit, to stare outdoors and by a stare to
seem to state a wish to venture forth
without delay, then when the portal’s
opened up, to stand as if transfixed by
doubt. To prowl; to sleep; to choose not
knowing when we may once more our
Re-admittance gain:
Aye, there’s the hairball;
For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob
or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
and going out and coming in were made
as simple as the breaking of a bowl, what
cat would bear the household’s petty
Plagues; the cook’s well-practiced kicks,
the butler’s broom, the infant’s careless
pokes, the tickled ears, the trampled tail,
and all the daily shocks that fur is heir to,
when, of his own free will, he might his
exodus or entrance make with a mere
mitten? Who would the spaniels fear? Or
strays trespassing from a neighbor’s yard.
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
and scratches at a barricaded door
no claw can open up, dispels our nerve
and makes us rather bear our
humans’ faults Than run away to unguessed miseries? Thus caution doth
make house cats of us all: And thus the
bristling hair of resolution is softened up
with a pale brush of thought, and since our
choices hinge on weighty things
We pause upon the threshold of decision.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page three
Notes from all over
From Beryl McMillan in Surrey, UK
My first litter was a bit of a baptism by fire,
since Julie (TICA GC & FIFe GIC Mabalakat
Jools, the mother) got an infection when they
were 2.5 weeks old and lost first her milk, then
subsequently any interest in them, and I had to
handrear all five of them until I could wean
them. I succeeded, but it was touch and go at
the time! Anyway, one of the kittens was a
lovely black smoke and white girl who I called
Jinksette because at the time she was the image of her dad (FIFe EC Davrica Jaxom, aka
"Jinks") since the smoke didn't show until she
was much older. So, one day while feeding
them at about four weeks old I heard this
frightening rattle coming from her chest! Terrified I'd managed to get milk in her lungs
(remember this was my first litter!) I dashed off
to the vet with her - but as soon as we left the
house the noise stopped and the vet couldn't
find anything wrong with her. So I took her
home again and watched her like a hawk to
see if it came back - and it did. But this time I
recognized it for what it was ... poor Jinksette's
first attempt at a purr! Exit stage left, one redfaced novice breeder ...!
I attach a pic of Jinksette with her dad, at
about 8wks old - Jinks absolutely adores kittens and is sometimes a better dad than the
girls are mums!
Jinksette and sire
From Helen Cripe in Delaware
The Cat Who Just Moved In...
My boss Mark and his son Alan were out
in Dayton over a weekend, visiting his
mother in the nursing home and taking care
of some business for her, and staying at her
house. While they were out working in the
yard, this cat joined them, rode on Mark’s
shoulder while he raked, and just generally
hung around.
Mark checked with the neighbors and
found out that some people had moved away
and abandoned the cat. The neighbor was
feeding it, but also avoiding it because he’s
very allergic.
Mark and Alan went and got cat food and
litter, took him in the house and fed him. He
picked out the best chair in the living room
and sacked out. It as obvious he intended to
stay—Like The Man Who Came To Dinner.
Mark called me, said he had a “cat question”, and told me about the cat. He was a
vivid red mac, he said, with white paws and
bib, of undetermined age. I immediately said,
“You’re going to bring him home with you,
aren’t you?” He also called his son Brian and
told him, and asked if he was crazy to be
bringing the cat back to Wilmington and
Brian, knowing his dad, said of course not.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page four
More Notes From All over
Continued from page 3...
Tuesday morning Mark called me again
to say that he and Alan and the cat were on
the way home, and the cat was sleeping on
Alan’s lap. They called me when they got
home – they live on the floor above me –
and I went up to see the new arrival. He was
alternately eating his head off and hissing at
Alan’s cat.
They named him Sandy (that family are
not particularly original about cat names)
and he seems to be settling in. For a while
they will keep the two cats separated until
Sandy settles down in the new environment.
For the first night home, Alan took his cat
in his bedroom with him (with litter box and
food and water) and Mark, after thinking he
would put Sandy in the bathroom, decided
no, he might be too lonely, and took him and
his things into his own bedroom. Alan’s cat
will be OK, he has always been used to having other cats around. The neighbor in Dayton told Mark that Sandy was about 15
years old – we think 11 or 12 may be more
accurate. He is definitely mature but does
not look like an old cat, is active, his coat is
beautiful, his eyes are clear, he is obviously
healthy although much too thin – but the
way he’s eating he won’t be too thin very
long! Mark will take him to our vet soon and
have him checked out. He is very much a
lap cat and will let anybody cuddle him.
I love it when cat stories end like this!
“I’m here—you do want
me, don’t you??
From Lynn
in Wisconsin
by way of Sharon
Butler in Georgia
My mother and father
live in southwest Florida,
and my mother is an avid
golfer. She plays in a
league with several other
women and they typically
play the same golf
course.
. One of the houses
along the course has an
African Gray Parrot who
typically talks to the golfers. If the golfers don't
respond, he gets really obnoxious. So Mom
and her friends always call out "pretty bird" and
admire the African Gray. He spends most of
his time out on his owner's lanai (screened in
porch for those unfamiliar with Florida lingo).
The other day, Mom and her golfing buddies
came up on the house with the African Gray,
and he was being quiet. He's never quiet, so
they were confused. And then my mother spotted a Maine Coon cat next to the house and
she figured “aha!” That's why the bird is being
quiet: he doesn't want to attract the attention of
the Maine Coon, and who can blame him?
But then my mom started to wonder as she
watched the Maine Coon. Why would anybody
let a beautiful cat like that roam, especially in
Florida where there are snakes and alligators? And then she thought: what's wrong with
his owners, why don't they brush their Maine
Coon? If his fur is such a mess, they could at
least give him a hair cut. And she proceeded to
tell her friends about when Falcoon (my Maine
Coon) had a lion cut.
The Maine Coon came closer to them and
then my mom realized it was no Maine
Coon but a bobcat!!! The lack of a beautiful
flowy tail gave it away. Good thing she didn't
try to pet it! LOL.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page five
This is an excerpt from The Book Of The Cat circa 1903 by Frances Simpson with
this particular section written by F.R. Pierce. The cat at left is from a 1908 postcard.
And if that’s not a Maine Coon, there ain’t a cow in Kansas...
...Up to this point, I have been writing of the cats of the long, long ago and
perhaps only interesting to myself, being as full of plain facts as Gradgrind.
Before coming down to some of the fine cats of the present day, I will say that
I am told by an eye-witness that on a little island quite well off the coast (of
Maine) which is inhabited by only 3 families and where a few gentlemen have
a quiet nook to fish in summer, they found pure white longhaired cats with the
most heavenly blue eyes. So far as is known, no other cats are on the island.
I had the promise of a pair last year, but cruel fate had visited them in their
sheltered nook and the kittens that year died. The promise still holds good
and I do not want to believe it is a “fish story.” Time alone can finish it.
I really know nothing of the cats that are said to be found on the islands;
but no doubt they are much the same as those found all along the New England coast.
For a long time, the long-haired cats seemed to be confined mostly to the
coast towns and cities. But the giving of their best to “their sisters and their cousins and their aunts” have
spread them inland, as well as scattered them over nearly every state in the Union. They thrive as well
as any other long-haired cat. No doubt they do better in Maine, but the difference comes from the fact
that they have the freedom of living a natural life without dopes or over-coddling. Their off-spring are
beautiful because they come from their own choosing and not from compulsory mating—often distasteful,
no doubt.
About 1895 or 1896, the cat fad struck the Middle West. The time was ripe for its development. The
high, the low, the rich, the poor have all felt its force, as the real love of animal pets is no respecter of
persons and this fancy has made the whole world kin.
A few people who had never seen a cat show in their native land “go across,” attend a cat show or
pick up a cat at a bargain on the streets of London; they fetch it home and lo! their neighbor has seen
something very like it while at their summer home on the coast of Maine. The fad is contagious and if
they have the fever running very high, they send back east to their handyman to get them a long-haired
cat and these cats become popular. Clubs are formed to discuss points and exchange knowledge,
shows become a necessity, large premiums are offered, numerous valuable specials become a feature,
cats must be found to fit them, the home market at a low figure is looked over, many attic treasures are
brought out and have often tipped the scales in favour of the Yankee Cat. We all turn green with envy.
Before another show, we must import a ready-made winner at any cost! In the meantime, the demand
for the home-grown article is increasing and prices are getting much inflated, the dealers in large cities
keeping their buyers busy in the New England field during the fall and winter months. But the stock of
kittens has been looked over by the summer residents or visitors; the real cream disappeared with the
first frost to some winter homes in the big cities; the dealers get what is left at almost any price they have
to pay,
many of
thesire
specimens being indifferent, and some, no doubt, mongrels.
Jinksette
and
In the last few years, I have known less of the Maine cats, except through the shows and a few I have
owned myself, which have not been shown much or shown remarkable in any way; but among the gems
that have shown out with more or less brilliancy when on the bench, we find Cosie, a brown tabby, taking
first and special for Best Cat in Show in New York, 1895. Mrs. Lambert brings out Patrique in New York
in 1896—blue and a nice one. King Max—first brought out by Mrs. Taylor—won in Boston first in 1897,
98, 99, only to be beaten by his sire, Donald, in 1900. Mrs. Mix has shown a fine Persian type from
Maine called The Dairy Maid. I believe she has also Imogene from the same place, a tortoiseshell. Mrs.
Julius Copperberg’s Petronius, of whom we all expected great things, was from a line of creams coming
well down from a fine cream brought from some Mediterranean port by one Captain Condon about 15
years ago. I have secured for friends several kittens from his cat’s descendants, which are now somewhat scattered, but all showing great strength, form, bone and sinew. Mrs. Chapman’s Cusie Maxine, a
fine type of brown tabby, dam of Young Hamlet, who won over his sire, Prince Rupert, was also a Maine
cat.
Continued next page...
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page six
Continued from page 5...
Mr. Jones, of The Cat journal, has from time to
time had some fine brown tabbies of the Maine stock,
winners at some of the larger shows.
A fair representative of the whites, who has acquitted himself well at the various shows in competition
with large classes, is Swampscott, owned by Mrs.
F.E. Smith of Chicago. He comes from Mrs. Georgia
Thomas’ white cats of Camden, Maine, his maternal
great-grandsire coming from France.
Midnight, a younger black cat, winning second in
Cincinnati to a cat from New Hampshire in better coat,
and second in Chicago in 1901 in large classes—has
become a gelding and pet of Mrs. J.J. Hooker of Cincinnati. He comes from a line of blacks owned by a
retired sea captain named Ryan, who had at one time four generations of black cats. They loved their
cats like babies and for years looked for people suitable to give their kittens to. I have been the flattered
recipient 3 times in the last dozen years of these beautiful black diamonds. Antonio, a gelding, now
owned by Mrs. A.B. thrasher of Cincinnati, Ohio, is also a fine representative of this stock.
In the last few years, since cats there [Cincinnati] are at such a premium and old age getting nearer
every day, these good people have hardened their hearts and now sell like others to the highest bidder.
I can also think of Peter The Great, a neuter cream and white, owned by Mrs. Carl Schmidt, shown at
Detroit, 1901. Also Black Patti, originally owned by Miss Ives, and Rufus, both Maine cats, now owned in
Detroit and winners in some of the Middle West shows; many, many other winners whose place of nativity is a sacred secret with their owners, which we will not willfully expose to public gaze until our native
cats have been accorded the place that is due to them.
I would like to tell you of some of the handsome geldings in Maine. No cat is too good for a pet with
them. They may be seen on nearly every lawn or stoop; but as that is a little out of the province of this
story I will describe only one: a handsome smoke owned by Dr. and Mrs. E.A.Wilson at their beautiful
home in Belfast, Maine. He is now 10 years old; his mask and feet are black or nearly so, his hair is very
dark, rather brownish at the tip, but as white as snow at the skin. I have begged them to show him in
Boston or New York. The answer is always the same: “Not for any amount of money or prizes. Tags
wouldn’t like it; he would be unhappy. Wouldn’t you, Tagsie?”
The smokes have not been well developed there yet. In a letter received recently in regard to that
variety, I am told that one of the regular agents said he found only one in about 200. The silvers and
chinchillas are not common. The strong coloured predominate. Whites, blacks, blues, orange and
creams, tabbies also being well divided and distributed along the coast and for quite a distance back,
perhaps 60 miles or more; but I have not known of their appearing to any extent in the northern portion
of the state, which is less thickly settled.
Having had this fancy from my infancy and before it became a
fashion, I took kindly to all the new developments. I have since had
some experience with imported and kennelbred cats and from time
to time had opportunities of seeing the best we have in our shows.
And I fully believe that cats that have their freedom, as most of the
Maine cats have for the greater part of their lives, are healthier than
kennel cats can be. The cool climate and the long winters, with
clean air full of ozone, is what is needed to develop their best qualities and, with a few years of careful breeding for types, they would
be able to compete quite successfully in an international cat show.
F.R. Pierce.
Who was it that said, “The more things change, the more they stay
the same”?? Although any of us would hardly recommend letting our
cats run loose now and choose their own mates, would we?. Ed.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
The Maine Addiction!
Page seven
By Toni Scarboro
When I lost my beloved DLH, I was devastated.
Having had cats all my life I just couldn’t be without a
cat so my search was on for another cat. I went to
my local animal shelter and just couldn’t find what I
was looking for. I kept looking; I would go back to
the shelter, look in the newspaper and ask friends.
Still no luck. I decided I would search on the internet.
Actually, I had no intention of getting a pedigreed
cat. In fact, I didn’t even know there were so many
different breeds. I found a page that listed many,
many breeds. I finally narrowed my search down to
3 different ones: Ragdoll, Norwegian Forest Cat and
the Maine Coon.
I kept going back to the Maine Coon. I did research and found this breed very intriguing. I read
the history, learned what I could, and decided this was the cat for me. I began searching in the
Southeast as I live in Alabama. A brown tabby male, I thought, would do nicely. I just knew I had
to have one of these huge cats. I found a breeder in Birmingham, AL who didn’t have any kittens
but suggested that I come to her home and see her cats and make sure that I really wanted this
breed of cat.
When I went into her cat room, I was immediately greeted by this rather large brown male. He
stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on me and was half as tall as me: I was in awe. No
doubt in my mind now, I was going to have one these Gentle Giants. She told me about a
breeder in Georgia, who sent me to a breeder in Tennesse, Kit Mounger, who was most helpful.
She didn’t have any kittens either but knew someone who did. I learned in my search that most
breeders were willing to help you find what you were looking for if they don’t have what you want
and that really impressed me.
Kit had told me to contact Lynne Sherer, who lived in the
Robby as
Memphis area and was a “judge”. Well, I am thinking she has to
A kitten
be honest because she is a judge (don’t laugh: I thought courtroom judge) I didn’t know at the time that she was talking about
Lynne being a cat show judge. Lynne, whose cattery is Calicoon,
had kittens but didn’t have a brown tabby. Instead, she had 2 silvers with white. They were older kittens, 5 months old, and she
had a male and female. If I got a kitten from her I could have the
mother if I wanted. Wow! I set out to get one Maine Coon and
now I was going to have two.
We decided we would meet in Nashville. Off we went, my
younger daughter and me, to get our new kitten. When I saw that
cute little guy on the bed at the motel, I knew there was no way
we were going home without him. Mom was beautiful and I would
take her, too. I was now the proud owner of a silver classic tabby
with white male, *QGC Calicoon Majestic Sebastian and his mom, also a silver classic tabby with
white, Hoosiercoons Ariel of Calicoon. Ariel was only with us for about 2 years when we lost
her—but that’s another story..
Ariel and Sebastian
* Editor’s note: The titles Toni’s cats have earned were all acquired under her efforts in the show rings.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page eight
Continued from page 7
Maggie Mae
Someone suggested to me that I start showing my
new kitten. I had never heard of cat shows so I didn’t have any idea what to expect. Attending a CFA
show in Birmingham, however, I was hooked and
now I had a new hobby. My next cat show was a
TICA show. He did much better in TICA so I kept
going to TICA shows.
After about a year, I decided I would like to breed
the Maine Coons so we became Dixiekatz Cattery. I
contacted Lynne again and asked her to mentor me
and help me find a breeding pair. We decided it
would be better to get a female first and later get a
male. I found a very nice breeding female, Shagcats Maggie Mae (of Dixiekatz), a brown mackerel torbie with white. She had her first litter, a singleton, on Labor Day of 2004. ( Sadly, I lost
her last March.)
Now I was going to start looking for a male. At the Alabama Paws and Claws show that
year, I saw this gorgeous brown mackerel tabby Maine Coon kitten who happened to belong to
Lynne. On Sunday after the show he went home with me. I now had my brown tabby MC: RW
SGC Calicoon Robby of Dixiekatz. He was a great boy.
My husband, Mike, who was not a cat person, soon changed his mind because of this new
addition to our family. Robby made it his mission to turn my husband into a real cat person. He
quickly became Mike’s cat. Robby was always in his lap. He didn’t like mine much; he would
come to him when he called, but he ignored me. He could be in another room when Mike would
call him and he would come running. I would call him and get no response. He could even be
walking away from us when Mike called him and he would turn and come. I would call him and
he would turn around and give me an evil look and keep right on going. Robby truly loved my
husband.
He sired several litters for us. However when the DNA testing came along, I tested him and
unfortunately for me, he tested homozygous positive and I had to neuter him. Sadly I lost my
beloved Robby on November 3, 2009, one month shy of his
6th birthday. He will forever be in our hearts. I miss him terriSebastian
bly. He was truly a special cat. He was the SE Regions Best
Maine Coon in the 2004-2005 show year with TICA.
I have since been blessed with another wonderful female,
RW SGC McCoons ShannonRiver of Dixiekatz, a brown
mackerel torbie. I have kept one of her daughters, DGC
Dixiekatz Sadie Blue, a blue mackerel torbie for another of my
breeding females. I have also been blessed with another
brown tabby male, RW SGC Sarajen DiamonJimBrody of
Dixiekatz as my breeding male.
I never knew how much joy these cats could bring into our
lives. They are a special breed of cat, almost human. These
big males are like little babies. Mike says the Maine Coons
are a man’s cat and that no one can have just one. Robby
made him change his mind about cats and I find Mike quite
often with one them in his lap. It’s true what they say, they are
“Gentle Giants”.
.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page nine
The Kitten Page..or..what would life be without them?
Britta Singethan kittens
Bettina Sachse kittens
Beryl McMillan kitten
Diana Davis kittens
Alix Enzinger kitten
Coonflakes kitten
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page ten
WOULD YOU BELIEVE...A CAT SHOW DICTIONARY?
BENCHING REQUEST
noun A tactical maneuver
employed by exhibitors with
a devout interest in social
climbing, self-preservation
or both.
BLOW verb What a cat
does when it turns ballistic
in the ring and goes after a
judge the way China goes after its dissidents.
CONTRACT noun Attempted legalese in which
the party of the first part, through sedulous disregard of the first and other amendments,
seeks to hog-tie the party of the second part in
a transaction involving a cat.
CATALOG noun An often overpriced, confusing, hard-to-use exhibitor’s necessity. Contains
information on all cats entered in the show;
however, this information is frequently incorrect
due to no fault of the exhibitor or entry clerk.
Designed to fall apart by the 3rd ring of the day.
Unlike the hand, is easily misplaced. Most frequently disappears when your cat has done
very well and the information is badly needed.
DESIGNER CAGE CURTAINS noun A triumph
of platitude over practicality whereby onceutilitarian items have been elevated to status
symbols. Spiritually akin to velvet Elvis paintings. Designer cage curtains sometimes cost
more than the cats they surround.
DIRECTIONS TO THE SHOW HALL noun In
legal parlance, sufficient cause for justifiable
homicide. No jury has ever convicted a person
for assaulting the committee member who put
together the directions to the show hall.
JUDGING TABLE noun a place where fleas,
mats, ear mites and suspicious-looking bald
spots miraculously appear for the first time in a
cat’s life.
DISCRETIONARY INCOME noun What an
exhibitor has left for the mortgage, the kids’ orthodontist and the utility bills after paying entry
fees, plane fares and dinners charged to the
Mastercard for the last 4 shows.
DISINFECTANT noun
A sacramental ointment
used by judges to wash their hands of their decisions.
END-OF-ROW BENCHING noun Prime show hall
real estate, paid for by exhibitors who are incapable
of ignoring people on both sides of them at once.
ENTRY CLERK noun A person of questionable
judgment who suffers fools, phone calls and inane
questions, though not always gladly or with grace.
FRESH WATER noun A luke-warm, murky substance at least one-quarter mile and two doorways
from an exhibitor’s cage.
FURS noun What some exhibitors and judges
wear to cat shows in colder months to demonstrate
their concern for all animals great and small.
GATE noun A collective noun applied to a collection of individuals, a least half of whom interrupt
your grooming to announce that they “have a cat
just like that at home.”
GENETICS noun An arcane tedious discipline, little understood, yet much discussed by cat breeders,
the knowledge of which has nothing to do with producing a good cat. Unlucky breeders resort to genetics to explain their failures, lucky breeders embrace it to explain their successes. Both are generally wrong.
HOUSEHOLD PET CLASS noun A congregation
of cats of allegedly unknown origin who sometimes
outnumber their pedigreed cousins at a show.
ITCOULDGOEITHERWAY A plea of nolo contendre
entered by a judge who is about to say something
that a goodly percentage of the audience is sure to
disagree with.
JUDGES DINNER noun A secular version of the
Last Supper in which the Haves are pursued by the
Would-Haves. An enterprise to which the average
exhibitor is not always invited, despite the fact that
he or she is subsidizing the dinner with an entry fee.
LUNCH BREAK noun An interval in which exhibitors repay judges for their transgressions by asking
them questions while they are trying to eat.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Continued from page 10…
MASTER CLERK noun A person with a keenly
developed tolerance for drudgery, a head for
transcribing figures under extreme duress, a determination to become a judge at any cost. A
fondness for self-flagellation and hairshirts may
be substituted for the judging fixation.
NOVICE EXHIBITOR noun A natural mutation
of the human species. Equal parts “golly-gee”
enthusiasm and endless questions.
PEDIGREE noun A document listing the known
(or alleged) ancestors of a cat. Much studied by
persons with a fondness for cryptograms.
PEOPLE FOOD noun What exhibitors subsist
on at shows. Differs from cat food in that the latter must conform to government standards.
POLITICS verb Why your cat was defeated by a
cat belonging to someone on the show committee or by a judge.
PREPOTENT verb What a male cat automatically becomes after he’s produced one litter with
a mediocre outcross female.
PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM noun An instrument of torture that argues (loudly) on behalf of
selected repression of freedom of speech.
RAFFLE noun Legalized petty larceny, sanctioned by show committees, in which children are
authorized to shake down their elders in the spirit
of Trick Or Treat.
RIVAL ASSOCIATIONS noun Benighted assemblies with no redeeming social value where
cats are inferior, the judges incompetent and the
exhibitors eat their young.
ROSETTE noun A garish wall covering. Prized
by cat fanciers.
SHOW BATH noun A very painful and needlessly complicated process which removes a
quantity of dirt and hair from a cat, multiplies it by
ten, mixes it with steam and applies it to every
surface of a room.
SHOW COMMITTEE noun The ship of fools,
depending on who’s at the helm and how
Page eleven
reprinted from the spring 2002 SS issue
treacherous the sharks in the surrounding water
are. Note the word “commit,” as in “certifiably insane.”
SHOW FLYER noun What the serpent concealed in the apple he presented to Eve.
STANDARD noun A work of fiction that artfully
combines the exactitude of the Constitution with
the literary flair of a blueprint. Difficult to read,
nearly impossible to apply and frequently ignored
by judges.
STEWARD noun An underage and under duress
member of the juvenile set wearing at least one
item of clothes you’ve never seen before and looking at a bunch of cats he/she never wants to see
again.
THIRD CALL noun The earliest call heeded by
those exhibitors who believe the last shall be the
first as long as the judge sees them putting the cat
in the ring.
THISISTHEWAYISEEITTODAY A porous disclaimer that the judges use when they aren’t convinced of the certitude of their decisions and suspect you aren’t going to be either.
TIEBREAKERS verb What a judge does to stall
for time and pray for guidance when itcouldgoeitherway. These services are usually conducted
just before the judge intones thisisthewayiseeittoday.
TRAINEE noun an extremely nervous individual
who holds up the show while trying to guess how
the judge is going to hang the ribbons in any particular class.
WEDNESDAY noun The first day of the week
which exhibitors regain full use of their faculties.
Unfortunately, the day of the week on which exhibitors begin preparing for their next show.
Reprinted from the Spring 2002 Scratch Sheet
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page twelve
Pennies From Heaven Sometimes Falter...
Armload of groceries in hand I opened the
front door. Instantaneously aware of a very angry, desperate, high pitched screaming coming
from somewhere at the back of the house. Groceries forgotten I rushed to find the little mite….it
was in the litter box in the bathroom. Newborn
with the placenta still attached and now covered
in scoop-able ‘cement’. Oh, dear. Her first life
experience was a bath. A high white girl with 3
large orange polka dots emerged from under the
cement, her right front leg obviously damaged.
Bent 90 degrees at the elbow un naturally towards her chest, the tiny paw folded neatly flat
against the arm. It was obvious even to me, birth
defect not trauma. All we knew was that we
wanted her to Live, we’d worry about her not
being Perfect...later.
We had her to the vet before she was
24hours old. Ol’ Doc Plant- older than dirt, if he
hasn’t seen it, it hasn’t happened yet. He shook
his head and said ‘make sure she goes to a
home with carpeted floors’. That wasn’t what I
wanted to hear so we went off to Beaches Vet –
“bring her back when she’s 5lbs and we’ll take
off the leg’’. I didn’t like That option either. I
called around to my Mentors, pulling from their
experience. With no guarantee of success,
physical therapy and soft casting seemed the
way to go.
At the time we’d never heard of Twisty Cat.
Like a good many breeders old and new, it was
something we’d never seen, didn’t know it had a
name, couldn’t describe it and so didn’t look for
it on the Net.
It was only much later we understood that
she had Unilateral Radial Hypoplasia, or “Twisty
Cat.” Her right foreleg totally unusable and her
left a little bowlegged—almost like Rickets. A bowlegged birth defect caused by a vitamin deficiency.
My neighbor Debbie, an Infant Critical Care
Nurse at Mayo became my extra set of hands.
Each morning we’d walk her dogs and then wrestle with this tiny girl…and she won -often. It was
trial and error, experimentation, success and failures. The casts made of flexible vet tape, carefully
trimmed pieces of Aquarium tubing. We tried foam
pipe wrap. I can’t begin to list the bits and pieces
of finger splints, odds and ends softened with cotton padding we tried. Too loose she got it off, or
her mother a purebred Rescue (surprise!) took it
off, or her paw swelled. We were working in the
dark, but didn’t give up. In time the paw stretched
out but as the leg didn’t straighten she couldn’t
use it. But we kept at it none the less. We had
named her Pretty Penny. Knowing that’s what
she’d cost us when it was time to fix the problem –
if it could be fixed.
As she grew, so did her indomitable spirit. She
had no idea she was…different. We watched her
try, fail, struggle and try again. She ran and
jumped, played, climbed and limped. She wore
the hair off her little leg on the carpet and eventually wore a blister on her wrist. She was very
special in more ways than her disability would
have made her. Pretty Penny, as you might imagine, was also hopelessly spoiled. Coddled, carried, kissed, and catered to. We thought without
doubt she would always be with us.
She was going to be work and expense. No
one was going to want this little girl and any other
option was unthinkable.
Continued on page 13
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page Thirteen
Continued from page 12
To each new prospective kitten buyer I also
send along a list of my Alters, Retirees, Rescues and Challenged. To our surprise a lovely
older couple in Virginia expressed an interest in
little Penny. After several emails and few phone
calls Russ and Judy drove 8 hours to come
down and meet this little damaged girl. They
had made up their mind already, they couldn’t
have her for another month, she was to young,
the trip was unnecessary, but still they came.
Sometimes Magic Happens
Judy came into our home. Animated, talkative, warm. Before our greetings were complete, Penny came racing to her on her 3 good
legs, sat quietly in front of her, held out her unwrapped damaged leg & locked eyes with Judy.
Without turning to look at me Judy, in utter determination said, ‘Someday she will Walk’.
Penny went into her arms like a homecoming.
Judy left, a woman on a mission.
In the weeks that followed, I got numerous
emails from Judy as she took pictures, descriptions and observations of little Penny to the
Vets in her area and she didn’t like what any of
them had to say either. But her determination
never wavered and we continued to cast the
right leg with little success. The left leg had
straightened and strengthened and we had
stopped casting it when she was 2 months old.
A month later Russ and Judy came back to pick
up their mutual Christmas Gifts. The Renamed
Little Holly and, to keep her company, Mistletoe
(Missy) a kitten born to a different litter and a
few weeks older. They were warm and wonderful people and we were grateful that would
give little Penny/Holly a loving home no matter
what.
One week later I got an email. Little Holly
was scheduled for surgery at the University of
Virginia teaching hospital. Current Xrays revealed that she had calcium deposits in her
shoulder probably from birth and had separated
the bones in her wrist from jumping. Despite
the good job the doctor said we had done in
getting the paw turned and leg partially straightened, nothing but surgery was going to correct
the damaged joint in her right leg. He pronounced her left foreleg perfect. We had been
successful! Had there been no other damage
we could probably have succeeded with the
right leg as well.
Unilateral or Bilateral Radial Hypoplasia:
Twisty Cat Syndrome. The doctors tell us that in
Penny’s case, it was probably cramped quarters in
the uterus, possibly further damage in the birth canal
and maybe a little genetic. The best explanation they
could give us is ‘For Reasons Unknown” this happens, feral or purebred, in any breed. I’ve done
some research since then, knowing what to search
for. Here are some sites we found informative. We
wish we’d found them sooner! We pass them on to
you in hopes that you wont give up either!
http://www.messybeast.com/twistedlimb.htm
http://www.pandecats.com/x/ contracted_tendons_ofthefrontlegs.shtml
Little Holly underwent surgery on February 3rd
2010. She’s grown 6 inches, outgrown 2 casts and
put on four pounds.
Holly Reilly
Pretty Penny/Holly March 7, 2010
Judy writes:
Holly is going to drive us crazy.......I can see it already
and she still has 8 weeks to go !!! (in her casts) Now that
the medicine has worn off and undoubtedly there is no
pain in the leg; she wants to fly !!!!! Off of anything!! She
does not want to be held unless her tummy is full and she
is ready to sleep for the next 10 minutes or so. She wants
to run...and drag the leg....climbing is not so important as
is the jumping....she wants to jump up as well as down !!!
She will not use the litter box in her tent........that's a way to
get out of the tent. She goes to the litter box in the laundry
room and then bolts to the dining room where she plans
on jumping up on a chair and diving to the dining room
table......so far I have caught her before she starts her
trip.....and once caught her in mid air on her way to the
table. LOL I’m getting my exercise! Thank you, I think :-)
for the gift of this wonderful girl!
There are amazing people out there.
Sometimes Magic Happens.
Don’t give up on your Twisty Cats.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page
Pa
ge Fourteen
MCBFA Officers
Mid-Atlantic Director
Brenda Flahault
17 Omaha Dr
Cranford, NJ 07016
908-276-9423
[email protected]
Editors, The Scratch Sheet
Kit Mounger
485 Cottontail Lane
Afton, TN 37616
423-639-1585
[email protected]
Vice President
Kim Tomlin
3906 Quail Tower Road
Luverne, AL 36049
334-508-0082
[email protected]
Southeast Director
Sharon Butler
266 Bohler Dr
Evans, GA 30809
706-860-6820
[email protected]
Holly Reilly
121 Cedar St
Neptune Beach, FL 32266
904-874-7886
[email protected]
Treasurer
Roxann Rokicki
W 8905 Canary Rd.\Beaver Dam.
WI 53916
920-887-7704
[email protected]
Midwest Director
Caron Gray
19165 Bennington Dr
Brookfield, WI 53045
262-782-1110
[email protected]
Recording Secretary
Laura Heineck
145 Bear Mountain Pass
Mineral Bluff, GA 30559
706-374-4216
[email protected]
South Central Director
Coonmtn Raise The Flag
President
Donna Hinton
2215 Spanish Forest Lane
Richmond, TX 77406
281-232-5658
[email protected]
Judy Lindemann
3519 Green Springs
San Antonio, TX 78247
210-496-0161
[email protected]
Breeder Member Secretary
Liz Flynn
208 Kings Chapel Rd.
Augusta, GA 30907
706-860-1521
[email protected]
Western Director
Laura Cunningham
77 Hancock St
San Francisco, CA 94114
925-872-.6889
Fancier Member Secretary
Lynne Sherer
3840 Charbon Lane
Bartlett, TN 38133
901-371-3394
[email protected]
Overseas Director
Misha Peersmans
Rue de Tellin 12
B-6927 Bure, Belgium
32-(0) 84 751255
[email protected]
Provisional Breeder
Member Secretary
Cain Haley
PO Box 1234
Highlands, NC 28741
828-787-1234
[email protected]
Appointed Officers
Archivist
Beth Hicks
3840 Charbon Lane
Bartlett, TN 38133
901-373-3394
Northeast Director
Elva Fisher
66 Ralph Ave
White Plains, NY 10606
914-946-4035
Ethics Committee
Cat Moody
41Deep Creek Bench Rd
Livingston, MT 59047
406-222-4745
[email protected]
[email protected]
“ Y’all got that now?”
Articles, photos, stories; all are
welcome. You can send by snail
mail or email to either Holly or Kit
as shown above. If you’ve a winner or two for the Gallery, those
pictures are welcome, too. And
you can view this and past issues
in color at the Scratch Sheet
online: www.mcbfa.org
User Name: MCBFA
Password: Water
*And if you’re moving, don’t forget to notify your secretary, be
she breeder, provisional or
fancier one.
No more
freebie re-sent
copies if you
forget!
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page
Pa
ge Fifteen
Cattery Profile...
Reagill is a small hamlet in the Eden Valley of
northern Cumbria maybe an hour away from Scotland by tortuous roadways. It’s not far from Shap, a
village of picturesque18th century houses along
those twisty roads. From the high plains here—or
what we Americans would call ‘high plains’— one
can see the Pennines rising up in the distance. The
views are breathtaking; it’s a picture postcard of
rural Northern England. I know. I’ve been there. But
this isn’t a travel piece, as beautiful and timeless as
it may be. With its 17th century stone croft farmhouse, barns, gardens, pond, this is where Jennifer
Beasley, a provisional breeder member of MCBFA,
has her cattery. Well, catteries, actually.
And truth to tell, there’s not just one Jennifer Beasley: there are at least 5!
However, finding herself among such a large assortment of felines, some of whom had physical infirmities or conditions resulting from a variety of accidents, (England is a country where its feline population is still largely permitted to run free) it wasn’t long before Jennifer #3 emerged: nurse and caretaker, convalescent home director, chief-cook-and-bottle-washer.
In this work, she has become very knowledgeable about veterinary care and adept as seeing to her patients’ recovery, all of
course, with the supervision and advice of her local vets. Outside
of veterinary clinics, this sort of care is rare in any country, even
England, which is certainly a nation of animal lovers. Such endeavors have earned her much gratitude from owners who are
often elderly or people who, for one reason or another, simply
cannot cope, even when problems are so minor as to be a mere
case of matted fur, intractable knots or pesky too-long claws .
Enter Jennifer #4: accredited groomer. Not only does she groom
her boarders and convalescents every other day or so, she also is
often called upon to pick up customers’ cats from their homes. (in
one instance, an elderly lady refused to be transported to hospital
in an ambulance until Jennifer could come and take away her cat)
If there’s a genuine respected and accomplished “Cat lady’’ in
Great Britain, it’s Jennifer Beasley.
Beardwood Jasmine of NepetaCoons
When she quit work for the European Union and returned to the UK, she knew exactly what she
wanted to do and set about looking for a suitable piece of property for her cattery. Once the location
and purchase for her endeavors had been found, this led to Jennifer #1. She became a real estate
agency dealing with such properties world wide. Luckily, this sort of occupation these days can be
done on the internet, allowing her to stay close to home for the most part, which led, of course, to
Jennifer #2: cattery owner. Originally a boarding cattery, it soon became very well known and utilized by customers from all over Great Britain. Such were her skills that word-of-mouth alone has
brought her some 500 boarders a year! In the back-of-beyond of Cumbria or not.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page
Pa
ge sixteen
You’d think all this activity would satisfy the most ardent and involved
of cat lovers. But as the old cliché goes: “Where does the busman go
on his holiday?” Here emerged Jennifer #5.
Having dealt with infirm, ageing and injured moggies and purebred
boarders of all breeds, Jennifer fell in love with the Maine Coon, a
number of whom she’s not only cared for as boarders but helped rehome when their owners could not keep them (usually due to losing
their homes and not being able to move into quarters where cats are
allowed) If she was going to be involved with felines, there had to be
some compensation—right? Payback, reward, success in the show
ring for her own desires. Whatever. And having already set up one cattery, it was no problem to build another for her own cats. (Catnap Cattery is the name of the boarding cattery. NepetaCoons Is the name of her Maine Coon cattery)
With all her contacts and wide-spread friends, notably among them MCBFA breeder member—no
longer active—Ann Mary Bishop of Hurklecats in Windermere, it didn’t take her long to build a breeding
program for her Maine Coons and when she’s not involved in accommodating her sick and injured
(which it seems she has come to specialize in as boarders), she’s usually enjoying her Maine Coons, off
somewhere at a cat show or in her office on the computer with her stud boys for company or busy with
community affairs.
Jen’s Maine Coons are as handsome as any you’ll find in the country. Her kittens are in great demand,
her reward for all her efforts on the part of her many, many customers—both two-footed and four. That
she’s become—at so far a remove—interested in MCBFA, is certainly a plus for us.*
Of course, there’s the modest (if effective) Jen #6, of which little has been published: Community activist. Don’t want a super highway in your back yard? Nuclear towers? A wind turbine farm? Jennifer’s your
‘man’: She’s darn good at tilting at windmills!
Kit Mounger
*editor’s note: I will be doing a follow-up article on the difficulty of importing good breeding Maine Coons
from this country into England. It’s extremely arduous and no small accomplishment to the British breeders who have persevered in the task. And certainly necessary if they are to have a good diverse gene
pool. And next issue will have Jen’s stories about Henry and Marley
Elmcoon Foxglove of NepetaCoons
Continued from page 15...
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Fancier Member Dues due:
October 2009-This is your last issue!
Karen Brooks
Bonnie Mingua
Marilyn Bryant
Katherine Weidner
Robert Collings
Don/Christine
Sandra/Larry Goodrich Wright
Jamilah Haneef
Richard/ Sarah
Lew Llewellyn
Zalac
Kenneth Zelasko
January 2010 renewals
Arlene Bernhard
Joellyn Kopecky
Bruce/Suzanne Brocka Mary/Lynn Martin
Marygrace Colby
Cynthia Mason
Morley Fach
Suzan Morris
Lynn Golding
Sue Pearce
Bonnie Greer
Sherri/Jim
Julie Kasper
Watkinson
Carol/ Steve Welch
April 2010 renewals
Elaine, Michael Allen
Jeanne Ball
Stuart Barney
Judy Campbell
Angela Clements
Barbara Corbin
Mara Edmunds
Jeffrey and Linda
Hempe
Stacy Herrle
Susan Humphreys
Shari Johnson
Kay Koeller
Provisional Members
Sherry Campbell
Irmi/Peter Bittner
Becky Boesch
Janie/Allen Harris
Cynthis Casper
Ella Kiseleva
Cathy Petty
Catherine Semer
Teresa Signore and
Edwin Sweeney
Alexandra Slawska and
Maja Strzelec
Holly Reilly
Arianna Zetti
Donna Lawry
Lisa Merkl
Carolyn Mitchell
Carole Nassif
Ellen rivers
Bonnie/John Robbins
Pierre Romette
Nancy Sanford
Katherine Scott
Beverly Sullivan
Greg/Lynn Watts
Annermiek
Weinsheimer
Nick Wright
Page seventeen
Breeder member Dues
Note: Some breeder member dues are paid ahead and
these are listed separately in the list below.
Dues paid until May 1, 2011: Active: Barrier, Fisher,
Fleming, Hansberger, Komar, Lidner, Stegal/Crowell,
Sullwold, C. Sweeney, Wqrren, Dentico, Harvey, Hidaka, Meier, Mueller-Rech, Shiino. Inactive: dunford,
Hill, McInchak, Nikolaides, Robbins, J Williamns
Paid dues to May, 2012: Active: Calzavera-Widmer,
Doi, Hagan, Hannink/Bokkel, Peersmans. Inactive:
Argust
Paid dues to May 1, 2013: Active: E/MHammond,
Woosley, Golfarelli, Koch, Wietlisbach, Inactive Argust.
Dues paid to May 1, 2014: Active: Horton.
Other breeder members should send their dues
($25) directly to Liz Flynn, Breeder Member Secretary, unless using PayPal; PayPal should be sent to
the treasurer [email protected]
The Merry Maines...Sing A Song of Sixpence is the
next book in the MerryMaines series and will be out in
June 2010. I’ll be doing the review as soon as I can lay
paws on a copy...And if you’re looking for a fun cookbook,
order “Kitten Soup and Other Cathouse Recipes” from
the Cat Care Society at 5787 W. 6th Ave, Lakewood,
CO 80214. It’s a catscats-only shelter with all kinds of offerings as fundraisers: cookbook, sculptures, paintings. Holler
at head volunteer, Jane Dorsey and she’ll fix you up. It’s a
real deserving outfit!
Mainerd , copy editor
“If you can remember how many cats you have, you don’t have enough.”
Anonymous.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page eighteen
Moving,,,..Overseas…..with 13 cats…...and one very large dog
(Reprinted from the Spring 1975 Scratch Sheet by old timer whizbang breeder of Maine Coons, Connie Condit)
Grüss Gott, Guten Morgen und Ich spreche kaum deutsche. Yep, here we are. After three and a half
months of rattling around the country and the world, Heidi Ho (cattery) is all back together.
It started on October 29 when I loaded the troops into the trailer and said goodbye to Columbus, GA.
We first headed for Illinois to take my weary mother home. This was her first experience at packing and
moving my household and she had had it. This leg of the trip was relatively uneventful. Minnie Pearl and
Georgia Girl each took a turn at slipping out the door of the trailer but thanks to my habit of counting
noses and checking the area before we move, they were retrieved.
Calm reigned during the two weeks we spent in Illinois. Charli, Schroeder and Thomas were allowed out
for part of the day which kept them from going stir crazy. The rest of the gang adjusted well to their
cramped living quarters. Mother’s Susan got her nose in a knot over all those cats out there. She hates
cats; the fact that she is one is beside the point. She would leave in the morning when allowed out (in a
town of 1,300 you can let your cat roam in relative safety during the day) and not show herself again until chow time. One evening she failed to return; it had been snowing all day. So at midnight, yours truly
and Heidi were out with flashlight plowing up and down alleys looking into and under things. No luck.
Mother and I were up and down all night looking. At 6 AM, Miss Susan banged on the back door and
demanded breakfast. She was dry and clean; obviously had gone somewhere to escape the snow and
someone closed a door on her.
From Illinois, the troops and I trekked to Beltsville, MD (D.C. suburb) where Heidi was to stay with her
favorite babysitter. Because of her age and an acceptable alternative, I had decided not to take her. We
arrived at Barb’s about 9PM, fed the troops and got everybody settled—we thought.
When I went out next morning, the first thing I discovered was that Molly had presented us with two new
baby boys. Henry had gotten out of his quarters 65 days previously. At the time, I had foolishly thought
that I had caught him in time. While we were home, I had realized I hadn’t. The next thing I discovered
was that Charlibrown was missing. I searched every corner of that trailer but finally had to admit he
wasn’t in there. I was sick because I couldn’t remember when I had last seen him. Charli has (or had) a
nasty habit of darting thru doors and we had made two after dark stops the evening before. I was almost
certain I remembered shooing him back in—but not quite.
Heidi and I searched the neighborhood but no Charli. This was disheartening because when he is out
Charli always hangs around the trailer and comes when called. So after scooping Molly and the new
kids off the seat into the half suitcase nursery bed into the closet (where she has cared for two other
families), Heidi and I drove a hundred miles back to the rest area just off the Pennsylvania Turnpike,
one of our two stops. The other was on the Pike another 90 miles back. We contacted the caretaker
who had been on duty and no, he had not seen Charli. We searched and called—no Charlibrown.
I almost went on back up the Pike, but besides being concerned about Molly (I had barely checked her)
I had a nagging hunch that Charli was back there somewhere. We got back about 2 PM but no Charli.
Barb had come home from work and I broke the news. We spent the evening stewing. I had decided
that I would hit the road early next day and go back up the Pike and hope I recognized the spot where
we had stopped. About 8 PM, we were out to tuck the kids in and I made my third discovery: Molly had
three boys. Abraham had been born after I left to look for Charli and because the closet was dark, I hadn’t noticed when I came back. Then when we left the trailer, Barb spotted something under her car—
there was Charlibrown, dry as a bone in spite of all day’s rain and chattering like a magpie about the fact
he was starving. I don’t mind admitting that I bawled all over him. I said Charli had a habit of darting thru
doors—he lost it someplace in that Beltsville neighborhood. Hasn’t been near a door since.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page nineteen
Continued from page 18…
A couple of days later, we bid Heidi a very sad “So long, see you later,” and headed for New York.
Stopped for a cup of coffee with Carol Noggle of Newark, Delaware and met Humphrey, Chester and
their harem. A right handsome tribe of Maine Coons, I must say.
Spent a wonderful week with Betty and Rod Ljostad who so generously volunteered to babysit my crew
until I could send for them. Especially nice was the MCBFA meeting where I met a lot of nice folks who
thus far had been only names. Then on Saturday November 30th, I took my one phrase of German, “Wo
sind mein dreizehn katzen?” and headed for Stuttgart via McGuire AFB in New Jersey. (Betty taught
me that: “Where are my 13 cats?” to use when the tribe arrived in Germany.)
Three weeks late, mein dreizehn katzen arrived in Frankfurt via Vari Kennels and TWA. They made the
trip in fine shape, thanks to the expertise of Rod and Betty. After all my practice, I didn’t need to use my
German phrase at all; the TWA agent spoke perfect English. It was a bit hilarious. When I walked in and
said I had come to meet my cats who were arriving on flight 270, he replied that yes, they were on the
manifest he had just received and how many did I have? I took a deep breath and said thirteen. He
grinned and said, “that’s what the manifest says but I thought the teleprints had malfunctioned.”
When they arrived, he took me and the crate full of cats, who were apparently taking it all in stride as
only a bunch of nosy pussies can, to the customs office where we had a bit of difficulty convincing the
German agent (who didn’t speak English) that I was not importing a bunch of cats to sell. Finally I told
the TWA man to tell him that people collect stamps; I’m a nut that collects cats. The translation of that
must have been wild because the customs agent started laughing and our troubles ended. As he was
checking through the health certificates, he grinned and said something like, “You have a family of peanuts.” Had me puzzled for a moment then I realized he had seen the names of Charlie Brown and
Schroeder. Some things are universal.
Two weeks ago Heidi joined us. She seemed to have settled down to stay with Barb, but the day after I
called Betty to give her a shipping date for the cats, she began demolishing the household (ESP?) and
when 90lbs of shepherd decides to do that, you’d better give in. We did and TWA came through with
flying colors again. There was a two hour delay while the plane sat in Zurich waiting for the fog to clear
at Frankfurt but she had obviously had a good trip, not a bit perturbed by it all. She and I made the third
trip to Frankfurt last Saturday (February 15) to meet Molly who had finished raising her family. One
more trip and I’ll have to wear a disguise or the customs man will change his mind about the validity of
my “personal pets.”
So thanks to a lot of nice helpful friends, a big move was really made relatively easy. Special thanks to
my “trailer sitter,” Liz Eastman, who drove all the way down from Maine to take the rig out of the Ljostad’s driveway and tow it to her ‘back orchard.’
Auf Wiedershehen Connie
Most all Maine Coons in the various
registries go back to Heidi Ho. It was
Connie Condit who kick-started the
Standard for showing Maine Coons,
along with Rod and Betty Ljostad and
their fellow conspirators. At the time
her article above appeared in the SS,
she was an army officer newly assigned to Germany—and she wasn’t
about to leave her cats behind.
Prince Valient here has a pedigree
that is a who’s who of Heidi Ho
cats—including the one she mentioned: Henry Sayward. Ed.
The Scratch Sheet
Winter 2010
Page twenty
“I’ll say…”
“Whew! Putting out the Scratch Sheet is hard work!”