SS Spring 2013 Final v2 - Maine Coon Breeders and Fanciers

The Official Publication of the Maine Coon Breeders and Fanciers Association
Spring 2013
The Scratch Sheet
That yer Easter bonnet?
Whaddaya mean Mardi Gras is over?
Snow’s no match for
spring fever...
Mine! All Mine!!
The Scratch Sheet
Spring Summer 2013
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Stewie, a Guinness World Record Cat
SGCA Mymains Stewart Gilligan, “Stewie” for short, holds the record for being the longest domestic cat in the
world, being more than 4 feet long from nose to tail. Guiness World Records declared Stewie the recordholder in August 2010, measuring him at 48.5 inches from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail.
Stewie and Odin, two silver tabby Maine Coon boys, came to live with Robin Hendrickson in Reno as kittens
in 2005. Robin, a fan of big cats, had acquired them after researching the breed and finding a breeder who
had the two available.
Robin started taking them both to cat shows: Odin didn't really like shows, but Stewie was in his element! He
loved all the people that came "just to see him", he was a real personality. As Robin and Stewie attended
more shows, Robin kept hearing from other owners how much bigger Stewie had gotten. Then when she
learned how to carry the cat to the ring to show off his size, she noticed how long Stewie was getting to be,
even though he was just a year old.
In 2007, when Stewie was just two and a half years old, Robin searched online and saw that the longest cat
at the time was a red Maine Coon named Leo, who was 48 inches long. When she got out the tape measure
and checked Stewie, he was very close to that world record 48 inch mark.
Robin read up on what was required to submit a claim to Guinness World Records for Stewie, and once she
received the guidelines, Stewie was on our way. Unfortunately, he came up just short the first time he was
measured - but that day Robin discovered Stewie had something of a special gift – at a cat show, he befriended a little boy with autism, nuzzling the little boy’s face and licking his cheek. The little boy and his parents
were overjoyed. Robin knew then that even if he never got the record for length, Stewie was destined for
greater things.
Two years later, Stewie was successful in securing the longest cat record. On August 28, 2010, Stewie was
measured at the Nevada Humane Society at 48.5 inches from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. Robin
sent off his evidence packet, and received confirmation from Guinness World Records on October 12th that
Stewie was indeed the longest cat in the world.
Stewie and Robin were immediately thrust into the limelight, it took all of seven hours for Stewie to be known
around the world! Robin knew that she wanted to use Stewie's new-found fame for good, and remembering
his amazing temperament with the boy from the cat show, She knew he would make a wonderful therapy cat.
Stewie breezed through the certification process and training, and began work in July 2011. Patients who
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never spoke talked to him. Others that were bed-bound were just thrilled to see him. One patient recited to a
volunteer about his visits every week for six months until she passed away. Stewie helped Robin too, bringing her out of her shell as they did so much good work together.
The first patients that Stewie visited led Robin to try for his second record. On February 13, 2011, Stewie's
tail measured in at16.34 inches, the longest of any domestic cat. He was only the second cat in history to
hold two Guinness World Records titles simultaneously.
Whether visiting classrooms, hospital wards, or Senior Centers, Stewie was a star! He and Robin helped with
Humane Society adoption events, and posed for so many pictures. Life was a dream. Then at Christmas
2011, their world came crashing down. Stewie was under treatment for what was thought to be a viral infection, On Christmas morning his eye distended nearly out of his head. He was rushed him to the emergency
vet, who found that there was a growth behind his eye. The days that followed were a blur.
Stewie underwent a CT scan, only to get inconclusive results. After posting the news on Stewie's Facebook
page, Robin was contacted by the local media. and a miracle came in the form of the founder of Eye Care for
Animals, who helped her get a definitive diagnosis free of charge when he heard of Stewie's plight. When
Robin learned it was cancer, it was almost too much to bear.
There wasn't a suitable specialist vet in Reno, but she was fortunate to find Veterinary Centers of America in
Sacramento, who had everything needed to fight this: Radiation, chemotherapy and Dr. Crowe. On January
23, 2012, Stewie made the trek to Sacramento for evaluation, and treatment began immediately.
Over the next year, Stewie underwent 11 doses of radiation and countless doses of chemotherapy, and was
declared cancer-free on July 26, 2012.
However, this remission was short lived: At his 3-month re-check, it was found that the cancer had returned.
Treatment proceeded with more chemo, but the cancer was much more aggressive this time and wasn't responding to the drugs. The last option available, "rescue protocol" failed too. Robin and her partner were
devastated, but that wonderful boy cat didn't let it get him down, he was still Stewie, proud and regal as ever.
"I knew that although we could fight it, the end was near and so I wanted to simply make him comfortable
and let him enjoy the time he did have," Robin said.
“To help Stewie enjoy his remaining time, I chose to take him to the TNCC show in Portland in January 2013.
Stewie had always loved people and the attention they gave him so much, and trips out of the house delighted him, he loved to travel. This trip was my gift to him, as I knew his time was short.
“It turned out to be a wonderful last outing for Stewie. He walked the show hall with his tail and head held
high, his fans following, greeting everyone he could and thoroughly enjoying the whole experience. All the
while we knew that once we returned home, we would celebrate his birthday and then celebrate his wonderful life when the time came.”
On February 4th, 2013 at 7:37 pm, SGCA Mymains Stewart Gilligan crossed over the Rainbow Bridge, and
passed away. He was eight years old.
Hundreds of fans flooded Stewie's Facebook site with memories and condolences. The Maine Coon cat was
a certified therapy animal that frequently visited a Reno senior center and helped promote animal welfare
awareness with the Nevada Humane Society.
"Stewie was always very social and loved meeting new people," Robin Hendrickson said. "He has touched
many lives, and for that I am grateful."
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Oliver Underfoot: Therapy Cat
Since my heart surgery, I have relocated and left a marriage of 31 years. I was a happy little clam in the beginning
of my new life but the newness wore off fast. I soon realized I was very lonely. I visited a local church or two but
they all appeared to be mega churches and there didn’t
appear to be much opportunity to get to know people. Then it occurred to me that in the past when I was
surrounded by friends it was mostly in the cat fancy.
The two cats that I have now are retired from the show halls so what should I do? Then it hit me that
with Oliver’s laid back personality I should certify him as a therapy pet. A google search turned up an association called Happy Tails Pet Therapy and they did certification for dogs, rabbits and cats! I immediately made an appointment to sign up for their orientation in Atlanta.
There were at least 20 people at the orientation and they asked for a show of hands for all that had dogs.
19 hands were raised in response. Then they asked who had a rabbit and no one raised their hand. They
asked for a show of hands for who had a cat. I proudly raised my hand and listened to quiet snickering
around me. I just thought to myself: Boy, are they in for a surprise when they meet this cat. I scheduled us
for a pet testing a couple of weeks later.
I put a harness and leash on Oliver and carried him inside the pet testing area in my arms. He immediately went nose to nose with a beautiful English Retriever in the waiting area. We were soon called up to
test. They want to see how your animal reacts to loud noises and strange people. He was unfazed and
everyone in the testing area was wowed by his wonderful temperament. He passed with flying colors! Our
identification tags were mailed to us a couple of weeks later and then we were off on visits.
Most of the volunteers were a little hesitant to have a cat on their visiting team until they met him. Our first
invitation was to visit a school for mentally challenged adults. That first visit was very stressful for Oliver
since it was the holiday and very loud but the only sign he showed was to molt. He lost every bit of his
ruff. Our second visit was much quieter there and they all recognized him. Several of the people there live
in a home and have no family and they are not allowed pets. Our visits are pretty special to them as they
get social interaction and lap time with a dog or cat. The dogs on the team (as well as the patients) were
very curious as some—in particular a retriever—had never met a cat and was AFRAID of him.
Our second invitation came from someone that needed a substitute at a nursing home. When we walked
into the nursing home several residents rushed toward us squealing loudly about seeing a cat out in public and petted him. I had to quietly remind them that he was ,after all, a cat and had never met them before so could they please give him a moment to acclimate to his surroundings. He boinked his head
around much like a bobble-head, sniffing his new surroundings and the new dogs we were making the
visit with. He was a bit nervous going down the first hall. It smelled of bleach, medicine, urine, food and
people that we did not know. As we rounded a corner a gentleman in a wheelchair exclaimed that was the
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prettiest and largest cat he had ever seen! Oliver
went to sit in his lap and we educated a group of
nurses about the breed as they clustered around us.
As we continued down the hallway, we popped into
rooms whose inhabitants wanted to visit with the
animals. We saw stroke patients, cancer patients
and people so crippled they could barely raise their
arms but they all wanted a visit from the dogs and
Oliver. Toward the end of our visit, Oliver lay down
on patients' laps along with a Papillion, a Yorkie and
Maltese he had just met that evening!
Our best visits ever were at the Ronald McDonald
House where parents have a place to call home
while their child goes through a serious treatment at
a nearby hospital. Instead of going room to room,
we can sit on a sofa and whoever wants to visit with
the therapy animals comes to us. I bring a lap blanket on our visits and when we go there, I just spread
it out on the sofa and Oliver lies on it. He wiggled
onto his back the last time we were there, relaxed
as he would have been on his own sofa at home. I
had found on this visit that we are there for the parents to talk to while the children pet the animals.
The most wonderful part of what we do is put smiles
on faces and open doors for people to talk when
they need to. We have both made some special
friends.
We have a hospital ‘step-down unit’ that we visit as
well. We have assisted in physical therapy with folks
who have broken bones, surgery and stroke patients.
A local elementary school has us visit four and
sometimes five ‘Special Needs’ classrooms. On the
team we visit there with is a man with a Golden Retriever. Oliver had ‘owned’ a Golden in the past so
that could be their mutual attraction. He’s quite comfortable with such dogs. I’m not sure but the retrievers cannot seem to keep their noses off him either.
We visit these classrooms one at a time. Our past
visit was special because we somehow inspired
TWO children that had never touched an animal to
stroke Oliver. That was such a major breakthrough
and oddly, it occurred in two separate classrooms.
Oliver was Santa Claws in the Childrens Healthcare of
Atlanta parade when we walked with the Happy Tails
volunteers. He plans on being a leprechaun in the St.
Patrick’s Day parade in Atlanta. Come see us!
And if you ever find yourself in a funk and don’t know
how to pull out of it, try volunteering to make a difference in someone’s life. It’s as easy and using your
computer to click on Google or
www.Happytailspets.org.
MaggiSutherland of Maggismaines
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Naming Kittens...
I named all the kittens (but didn't register the names) in my
first litter. When I placed them, I had a hard time adjusting
to what folks re-named them. The boy's new name wasn't
too bad. I'd been calling him "Towser" after the famous
mouse-hunting cat and his new family renamed him
"Moses" — a perfect "match" for my cattery name
"Omaine", which means "Amen" in Hebrew.
match what I know is really NOT going to match their personalities in a couple of months.
It was harder though, when the second family adopted
Henrietta, and changed her name to "Moose" — I reasoned, it was just a feminine spelling of "Moses" and I
could handle that!
So, I said to myself, "Self, what would YOU name all these
kitties?"
And naming them bonded me to them permanently — I
didn't want to part with them when the time came. Many
older and wiser breeders gently told me that I must NEVER name a kitten unless I intended to keep it. I was setting
myself up for heartbreak. If I had to name them, I should
use some identifying feature, like color / pattern / sex, or
call them something innocuous, like "Sweet Pea". This
works for so many well respected breeders — I figured I
would give it whirl.
So, I'm resolved. This business of not naming the babies is
not going to work in the long run — at least it's not going to
work for me. So maybe I **should** go with permanent
names . . . that way Henrietta Pussy Cat would still be
Henrietta PC. . . instead of "Moose".
Well, I could "theme" name the girls. I have a girl named
"Love Arose" and could call these four girls "Hope Arose",
"Joy Arose", "Peace Arose" and "Grace Arose", but these
names just didn't "fit" these kittens — remember these girls
are ALL going to have a Tortie-tude.
OK, well, there was this idea on mcats of including the sire
or dam's name in the kitten's name ... let's see.... I call Elvira (their mother) "Ellie" so the four girls could be Omaine
Ellie Mae, Ellie Sue, Ellie Jo and Ellie Lou. Hmmm — and
I could name the boys "White Knight", "Black Knight", and
the one with the tail light "Knight Light" after their daddy
OK — I took their advice very, very seriously. For my sec- "Red Knight" . . . Hmmmm — nope, I don't think so . . . .
ond litter, they were all called after their colors / patterns /
The Dalmatian from litter #2 is looking more and more like
sex. They were (almost) sterile names: "The Brown Classic Male", "The Patched Girl", "The Blue Classic" and "The a "Dizzy Izzy" chasing his tail than a "Pongo" to me. And
my husband wants to name one of the boys "Ebenezer" —
Dalmatian" — he's not quite a van -- and notice I said
only I have to mentally add "Scrooge" onto the end. What
"almost sterile".
a dilemma!
Hmmm... I still felt they should somehow have real names
I'll get really serious this evening and clamp down on myand ended up allowing myself to think of "The Blue Classic" as "Gideon". My vet tech found out I hadn't named the self and come up with some really fine names for all of
babies and horn-swaggled me into naming the patched girl them that fit their personalities. I'm thinking The Brown
Classic" will be "Omaine Ruthless Snake Killer" — after all,
after herself — "Linda". Then to top it off, my good friend
and sponsor decided to help me out and dropped a name he has just about destroyed my shoelaces.
for "The Dalmatian" — he became "Pongo" after the Dad- "The best laid plans of mice and men are often overruled
dy dog in 101 Dalmatians. But "The Brown Classic Male"
by cats!"
still doesn't have a real name — not even a play name
Claire English - 2002
yet.
For my third litter, which came shortly after the second, I
have forced myself to call them "Tortie", "White Inverted
V", "Tail light", "No Tail Light", "Red Inverted V", "MacTabby", and "The Van" for the moment.
But it just doesn't seem right. I am the kind of person that
WANTS to be attached to these little critters. Their sterile
names are totally devoid of a meowmie's love — BUT I just
can't bring myself to call the little torbie and tortie girls
"Sugar Pie" or "Dumpling" — somehow it just doesn't
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Maine Coons
In Iceland
Sόlstafa Inferno, an Icelandic Maine Coon: Holder of a Special Record
Iceland is the land of geysers, volcanoes, northern lights, glaciers, almost no trees, Icelandic ponies, whales and a maximum temperature of 20º. And Maine Coons. It is only a three-hour flight from the Netherlands but you feel like you are
completely in another world. The land is nearly three times as large as the Netherlands, but only 330,000 people live
here (Netherlands: more than 16 million). Two-thirds of the population live in Reykjavik and the surrounding area, and
the rest live along part of the coast. A large part of the country (82%) is uninhabited.
The cat fancy in Iceland is very different – there is only one cat association and one shelter. There are only two shows a
year, one in April and one in October. Both are two-day shows and both are held in Reykjavik. In an average show there
are 120-150 cats registered by 60-80 exhibitors. Norwegian Forest Cats and Maine Coons are the most popular breeds.
It is not possible for Icelandic members to win in shows or receive certificates abroad. Quarantine rules in Iceland in spite
of the fact that no neighboring countries are regulated in Iceland. A cat has to spend 4 weeks in quarantine before coming to Iceland.
The Maine Coon is a relatively young breed in Iceland. Swanycoons* Bjorn Again was the first Maine Coon to set paw in
Iceland, in 2000. This cat belonged to someone from the US military base, and since the base is designated as a US
Territory, there is some debate as to whether the cat can legitimately be called the first Coon in Iceland. Breeder Coons,
however, came to Iceland from Finland in 2003, followed by Coons imported from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, the Netherlands and Belgium. There is no explicit Maine Coon type in Iceland and the different lines vary considerably. In September 2011 a Maine Coon Club was founded: Maine Coon Klúbbur Islands (MCKI) with its own website.
Because of the quarantine it is quite expensive to import cats into Iceland. Just the quarantine costs €600-850, and that
is excluding airfare and health testing. Total costs for imports are, at minimum, €3,000, and that applies to all breeds.
The club has contacted other Maine Coon clubs to exchange information, especially health information. They are very
excited about an open test database because Iceland does not have certified radiologists to do HCM and PKD scans.
The number of cats is not big enough to attract even a mobile radiologist.
The Dutch Maine Coon organization, Rasclub Maine Coon (RMC) agreed to give a gift for a special category at an Icelandic cat show. This prize, in a recent show at Reykjavic with 27 Coons present, went to the Maine Coon with the most
impressive tail, both in width and length. The prize was won by a red silver classic tabby in the 6-10 month age class,
Sόlstafa Inferno. A future special prize will be for the Maine Coon with the most impressive lynx-type ear tips. It will be
interesting to continue to follow the progress of the Icelandic Maine Coons.
Adapted from the translation of information on the website of Patchwork Maine Coons in Amsterdam by Anneke Kuys —
Thank you!
*SwanyCoon Cattery is owned by MCBFA member, Annette Swanberg, in Elkhorn, Nebraska!
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Lo, the Mighty Hunter…
My first encounter with other creatures that cats chase involved my parents’ cat, Fluffy. Fluffy was a brown tabby –
high white – Maine Coon wannabe. He was about 17
pounds and all muscle – a gorgeous kitty – and a swift
hunter. He never missed!
fully, he was a smart fellow and wasted no time making his
exit. That was my first real exciting moment of realizing
what cats are capable of catching.
Purrfect, of course, is The Hunter in our cat family now! He
had fun one winter learning to catch mice with some assisOne winter I recall at my parents’ old New England farmtance of my husband, who very nicely moved living room
house (bought by my grandparents in the early 1900s) that furniture around so Purrfect could catch his first mouse. Of
we had a lot of field mice getting in. Mind you, in a Maine
course, he praised Purrfect up and down as to what a
winter they are going to find some way to get in; after all,
good kitty he was and told him to bring his mice to his
they like warmth too! Well, morning after morning, we’d
“daddy”.
wake up at daybreak to hear the scuffle of paws and then
About a week later I woke up around 3:00 a. m. to the bed
“thump, thump” down the stairs as Fluffy would stroll in
shaking. It was Purrfect jumping up and down, playing with
with his catch of the day. My mother would wearily get up,
something. I was annoyed enough that I reached out, half
don a pair of heavy gloves and take the “germ-ridden”
asleep, to grab the toy with the full intention of tossing it off
mouse away from a growling Fluffy who hated to give up
the bed, but I got my hand pushed away by Purrfect. It felt
his prey. Each morning they did the routine…until the unlike a toy mouse but the fur felt funny. Then I realized what
expected occurred.
I had touched. A real live mouse in our bed! I snalpped on
We woke up to the usual scuffle, the thumping down the
the light and woke John, who sleepily muttered, “What’s
stairs and then, curiously, a second set of thumps down
going on?” when Purrfect elegantly tossed said mouse up
the stairs. We all thought we had mis-heard that second
in the air and it landed on John’s pillow and he found himset of thumps. Mom got up, procured the gloves, and noself face to face with it! Again the mouse was captured,
ticed that Fluffy didn’t have a mouse. He was real excited, taken outside and released into the wild.
tail bristled up, hissing, eyes hugely dilated – but not with
Then one winter we had a bat come down the chimney
any prey in his mouth and he was staring at the radiator in
and again Purrfect let me know there was “something”
the hallway to the stairs. Mom was half asleep. Working on
there by the window. I didn’t see it clinging to the curtain,
“auto-pilot” at this point. So she reached under the radiabut when it landed on the floor sometime later I had only
tor, to be confronted by a snarling, growling, white weasel!
one thought: get Purrfect away from the bat, a creature not
She really woke up then! She grabbed Fluffy, opened the
unknown to carry rabies. It used its wings to push itself
hall door and shoved him to the safety of the living room,
across the floor so I assumed it was wounded and couldn’t
then ran screaming at the top of her lungs up the stairs for
fly. Of course, it was only Purrfect and me at home so we
my father. Yes, we had a weasel in the house. No one
waited for John. (Poor John, he has to deal with all the
dared try to touch it as they have very sharp teeth and a
disasters.) When he got home he turned the family room/
nasty disposition. So we opened the hall door to The Great
Outdoors and closed off the rest of the house, hoping Mr.
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Weasel had sense enough to scoot outside again. Thank-
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kitchen upside down. No bat. It was nowhere to be found.
We gave up and decided to resume our hunt in the morn-
ing, where I found it behind the refrigerator hiding.
I closed the kitchen door and went to tell John. By the time
we got back to the kitchen with a broom, the bat was gleefully flying around the kitchen/family room, putting on quite
a show. Meanwhile, Purrfect was howling and meowing,
paws up on the kitchen door as he looked through the
glass demanding to be let in to go hunting. Needless to
say, John got the bat and it soon made its exit out of the
window, thank goodness.
My last encounter, which was definitely the worst, turned
into a nightmare. I don’t like snakes at all, not in any way,
shape or form. I came home one day to a baby snake in
my house! (shudder) Let me tell you, I’ve never reached a
phone so fast in my life! Purrfect was having a grand time
cuffing at it and of course, it was trying to get away from
those big paws. Precious, our other Coon, was interested
but not getting too close, cautious fellow that he is. I frantically paged John, who was visiting a neighbor up the
street. He came running home to find me nervously pacing
in the yard. When I told him about the snake, he replied,
“Oh, is that all?” Well, he was brave enough to grab a towel, pick up the snake and carry it away from the house –
and me! I also made him check all the rooms, the cellar,
etc. to make sure there weren’t any more. Precious looked
relieved but Purrfy was very disappointed not to have his
new moving toy to play with. He kept chirping at John,
“Daddy, where did you take it? I liked it!”
It staggers the mind to imagine what they might come
home with if allowed outside.
Debbie Harrar, Maine
Our new associate editor with
Boundingmaines Silver Chevalier
With Holly on her way to California, Helen Cripe, a new
fancier member in Ke ering, Ohio, has volunteered to
take her place on the Scratch Sheet Staff. Years ago,
when I needed an editor for The MerryMaines series of
books, Helen took me on. Her qualifica(ons are considerably more scholas(c than mine. She has a Ph.D. from
Notre Dame and is the author of the book Thomas
Jefferson and Music. She is also a cat person of some
decades’ standing but she’d never had a Maine Coon
un(l I sneaked one in on her, Coonmtn Midnight Sun;
at which point, Helen took the bit in her teeth and never looked back. She has wri en any number of ar(cles
for The Scratch Sheet and when Holly needed a home
for Bucky , one of her returnees, Helen added him to
her menagerie without a qualm. As we all know, one
Coon o1en leads to another and I am sure we’ll all be
Kit
grateful for her help with the magazine.
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Welcome, Starbuck!
Memo:
To: Starbuck (Bucky), our new little brother
From: Farinelli, senior cat (age 16 years) of
Helenmom’s household
Welcome, Bucky, from me and your new stepsiblings: Alice of Old Vincennes, Neroon, and Midnight Sun. You will be happy here once you get used
to us and to our Helenmom. We understand that you
have never been an “only cat” except one brief time
that was not happy for you. You may get hissed at
here occasionally by Alice, who often forgets that I
am the boss of this establishment, she’s not, but she
often feels it necessary to express her tortitude.
Neroon is a pleasant fellow, not very smart and
doesn’t move very fast, but he loves the whole world
and won’t give you any trouble. He is Alice’s brother
but you wouldn’t know it by comparing either their
sizes or their intellects. Midnight Sun is a Maine Coon
just like you, about your own age, and similar in color
only much redder. He is as laid back as any Coon
ever was, but being young, he needs somebody his
own age to play with and we hope you and he will
become buddies – and keep each other from pestering us older cats. I mostly follow Helenmom around,
lie on the couch arm while she reads or watches T V,
and occasionally smack anyone who challenges my
right to this position.
This is a nice house. Small, but nice. We never go
outside, but we understand that you too are used to
living indoors. We have lots of windows to sit in and
watch interesting things outside. We have the unrestricted run of the main floor and half the basement.
There are some comfortable couches in the living
room, and a table pulled up to the big window for us
to lie on and watch the passing scene outside. The
harpsichord lid is closed most of the time and we may
sleep on that, too. Helenmom has no objection to our
sleeping on her bed, especially when she is in it, and
in fact, in winter she encourages that, although if any
more cats come to live here she will have to get a
bigger bed. She has also put some steps beside the
bed in case somebody can’t jump up on it, that some-
body mostly being Neroon who weighs 19 pounds
and is 14 years old. The basement is fun to explore,
and our litter boxes and food dishes are down there.
Helenmom does keep an extra litter box in the main
floor bathroom for the convenience of those of us
who don’t always like the stairs to the basement.
The food here is good, both kibble and canned food.
If you sit at our mom’s feet when she is in the kitchen
and look irresistibly winsome, she will probably give
you a piece of sliced turkey or roast beef, and if you
purr loudly and indulge in heavy dramatics she may
even share her favorite Lorraine Swiss cheese with
you.
Our vet and her aides and techs are very nice although I don’t know any cat who loves going to the vet
except dopey Neroon, who runs to meet our vet at
her office door. Most of Helenmom’s friends are also
cat people so we are used to being admired. In point
of fact, we expect it. Our favorite and special visitors
are the boys across the street, our landlord Mark and
his son Alan, our Aunt Kit from Tennessee, and Ben
the yard man. No visitors are allowed to smoke in the
house. Every year at least one of us goes to The
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(Connued from page 10)
Blessing of the Animals service at The Lutheran
Church of Our Savior.
Lest you think this place is untrammeled paradise on
earth, I will warn you that even as good a catmom as
ours is bound to have a few idiosyncrasies so I will
acquaint you with them. First of all, we are allowed
in the computer room but we are not allowed to walk
across the keyboard, sleep on top of the printer, or
sit on the computer. The computer is so tempting;
it’s a small thing that sits on her desk behind the big
picture thing, it’s slightly warm and just the size of a
cat’s bottom, but if one of us tries to sit on it there
will be a yell of “Git your shaggy fat butt off my computer!” We are also not allowed to get near her beloved Star Trek desk lamp.
There are minor irritations in the living room and you
will just have to get used to them. Helenmom plays
the piano, harpsichord, alto and bass recorders, and
sings in several groups. She also plays CDs, DVDs,
and VHS tapes and watches Fox News. She favors
music by some people with peculiar names like
Bach, Handel, Scarlatti, Schubert and a few others.
She likes the VHS tapes of something called “The
Ring Cycle”. She likes the vocal sounds of somebody named Tennessee Ernie Ford, old DVDs of
something called “HeeHaw” and DVDs of English
comedy series. None of these are actually obnoxious, like the loud stuff you hear in some homes.
One thing you will not have to put up with is sports
broadcasts on TV, except on the rare occasions
when there is Olympic ice-skating. Helenmom is
bored out of her gourd by sports and especially detests basketball. She says she has trained the TV
not to receive sports broadcasts.
All in all, Bucky old boy, this is a good place to live
and we think you will enjoy it after you’ve spent the
usual few days under the bed. One of Helenmom’s
friends described our place as Cat Heaven. We like
that. So come on in, sniff noses and butts all around,
and join our family. We are happy to welcome you!
Holly, Reilly, our Associate editor of some years
(shown here with Bucky) has had to pull up
stakes in Neptune Beach, Florida and decamp to
Marin County, California with household, cats and
husband, John, as her parents needed them to
come out there. It was, as you might guess, no
small undertaking. The logistics of such a move
are difficult under the best of circumstances but
when a cattery is involved, things reach panic levels. Holly, however, is used to dealing with all
kinds of crises and undertook this move like a
pro. Of course, it was the cats that provoked the
most difficulties; it ain’t easy to uproot a dozen
cats: queens, kittens and studs, assemble them
in segregated quarters in a motor home and haul
them 3000 miles across a continent. Lewis and
Clark come to mind. Many possessions had to
be jettisoned, along with all vehicles and more
than a few memories of living on the beach. And
of course, I relieved her of her duties to the
Scratch Sheet and as mentioned, Helen Cripe
has dropped into the breach. She has been invaluable here and we will miss her. But don’t think
for one moment, she’s off the hook. I fully expect
to have for the next issue, Boundingmaines Great
Exodus to California.
Kit
The Scratch Sheet
Spring Summer 2013
Page 12
The Cat Food Aisle
I don’t know any of them by name. I don’t know
where they live, what they do, what they like or dislike. But I know the names, ages, colors and amusing
doings of all of their cats, most of whom I have seen
in pictures on their cell phones. Who are these folks?
They are owned by cats, and I meet them in the cat
food aisle at the supermarkets or the big box stores.
First I see a large group of full shopping carts clogging the aisle, then I work my way happily into the
knot of people exchanging cat lore and bragging
about their furry housemates.
One evening I noticed a kindly-looking elderly man,
staring in puzzlement at the array of cat food, litter,
toys, and other accoutrements. He told me he has
lived alone for years and never had a pet, but a little
feral cat showed up in his yard and he started feeding her. Over time he got her to trust him enough to
move into the house with him. He had her checked
by the vet. Now that she was going to be a permanent resident, he wanted to do the best for her but
was bewildered by the amount of stuff from which to
choose. I talked to him for quite a while – and of
course showed him pictures of my four – and suggested various brands of canned food, kibble and
litter, and the benefits or failings of each. He made
his selections and chatted on about how much he
enjoyed his new housemate, how badly he thought
she needed a home, and how he hoped she would
be with him for a long, long time. I commended him
for taking in a stray and giving her plenty of love and
a good place to live. I hope they will be happy together for many years.
out to be someone who sings in a local choral group
with me – now that we each know the other is a cat
person we suddenly have more definitive identities
for each other and the next time we sing together we
will probably, at the rehearsal break, be talking about
catly matters instead of practicing whatever language
we are supposed to be learning to sing.
And let’s not forget our cat jewelry and accessories.
The supermarket cat supply aisle is the perfect place
for us to show each other our cat handbags, coin
purses, T-shirts, sweaters, and jewelry as well as our
innumerable pictures. I draw envious gasps when I
admit that I have one whole jewelry box of nothing
but cat jewelry. I am, of course, carrying a handbag I
found at a craft show and it is made of a cat-themed
print. After selecting our cat food and litter, we descend upon the mug rack to see if the store has any
mugs decorated with catly wisdom and if we’re lucky
we’ll each find one we don’t already have.
One of the best stories I have heard came from a
pleasant middle aged man at the deli counter rather
than the cat aisle. He was buying sliced turkey breast
for his cat, and the clerks behind the counter, who
obviously knew him, were suggesting other things his
cat might like. Naturally we got into a conversation in
which he told me that he and his wife loved all animals, and had even successfully gained the trust of
some of the squirrels, birds and groundhogs in their
area.
As to his cat and how he got her, his wife stole her!
The cat had been the pride and joy of an elderly
neighbor lady, who kept it inside and doted on it.
A group of women, all talking a mile a minute, are
When she died, a young relative inherited all of her
blocking my access to the cat food I want. They soon
possessions. He would not give the cat away, but he
admit me to their ranks and of course, they are all
put it outside, rarely fed it, and generally ignored and
talking at once about their cats. Cell phones are beneglected it. It had to live in a small fenced yard on a
ing handed around so that we can admire all the picconcrete slab with no shelter except for crawling untures and compare notes on who looks like who, who
der an old hammock in a frame. Not ever having lived
just did something uniquely cute, and who is recoveroutside, it was terrified as well as having inadequate
ing from some ailment or accident, with a detailed
food and no comforts. The neighbor gentleman and
description of whatever it is. One of the women turns
(Connued on page 13)
The Scratch Sheet
The Cat Food Aisle
Spring Summer 2013
Page 13
continued from page 12
his wife watched and waited until the young man
went away for a few days, and that day when the
neighbor gentleman came home from work, his
wife told him she had climbed the fence and stolen
the cat, who was now happily indoors, full of food
and sleeping peacefully in the best living room
chair. This was a number of years ago and the
couple still has the cat, who stays indoors and enjoys her sliced turkey breast treats and purrs a lot.
The young man never made any effort to find the
cat, probably assumed she had run away.
Finally, having filled my cart with my own stuff plus
dry and canned cat food and a couple of 40-pound
bags of litter, I head for the checkout. One of the
young baggers will put the bags of litter in the car
for me and the neighbor boys will carry it to the
basement for me when I get home. Of course
there will be more cat lovers in the line. If I’m very
lucky the checker-outer will be the little lady who
always wears cat jewelry and will have a cat story
to tell – she says she only has one cat, but she
has over 200 cat pins!. But she isn’t there today. I
unload my purchases on the checkout counter.
When my turn comes, the checker exclaims,
“Wow! 40 cans of cat food! You win the door prize
– you get a free cat!”
Helen
In Europe, according to Eve Meiers, a new breed of
cat has evolved: the famous Tree-climbing, High jumping Maine Coon. She says she has been fortunate
enough to raise some of these unusual cats and has
sent to the Shagcatpic online list some photos of these
acrobatic kitties. As yet they are exceedingly rare but
no doubt their popularity will soon have them as common as Mexican Jumping Beans.
So—?
This is April First, isn’t it?
The Scratch Sheet
Spring Summer 2013
Page 14
Editors always appreciate expert help.
Fancier Membership Renewals
October 2012 Renewals
Patricia Froom
Ann Patrick
January 2013 Renewals
William Christenson
Sharon Merrill
Leigh Pohlmill
Michelle Smith
Colette Thomas
Sherri and Jim Watkinson
If you are not sure of the status of your
membership dues, or if you are not sure
whether or not you have supplied the Fancier member Secretary with your most current
email address, please notify Lynne Sherer at
[email protected]
Thank you!
The Scratch Sheet
Spring Summer 2013
Page 15
MCBFA Officers 2013
President
Fancier Member Secretary
Western Director
Kim Tomlin
3906 Quail Tower Road
Luverne, AL 36049-6109
334 508 0082
[email protected]
Lynne Sherer
3840 Charbon Lane
Bartlett, TN 38133
901 372 3394
[email protected]
Laura Cunningham
4168 Torino Ct
Pleasanton, CA 94588
925 872 6889
[email protected]
Vice President
Northeast Director
Overseas Director
Liz Hansen
15029 Glen View Ct
Homer Glen, IL 60491
636 734 9233
[email protected]
Sharon Stegall
1914 Center Groton Rd
Ledyard, CT 06339-1605
860 464 0727
[email protected]
Misha Peersmans
Avenue Louise, B-1700
Haine Saint Paul, Belguim
32(0) 49648 0921
[email protected]
Treasurer
Mid-Atlantic Director
Appointed Officers :
Roxann Rokicki
W 8905 Canary Rd.
Beaver Dam, WI 53916-9658
920 887 7704
roxann@velvetjewels,com
Brenda Flahault
17 Omaha Dr
Cransford, NJ 07016
908 276 9423
[email protected]
Archivist
Secretary
Southeast Director
Laura Heineck
145 Bear Mountain Pass
Mineral Bluff, GA 30559-2921
706 374 4216
[email protected]
Sharon Butler
266 Bhler Dr
Evans, GA 30809-3109
706 860 6820
sharonbutler [email protected]
Breeder Member Secretary
Midwest Director
Liz Flynn
208 Kings Chapel Rd.
Augusta, GA 30907-3730
706 860 1521
[email protected]
Caron Gray
19165 Bennington Dr.
Brookfield, WI 53045-2304
262 782 1110
[email protected]
Editors: The Scratch Sheet
Provisional Breeder
Member Secretary
South Central Director
Helen Cripe
525 Oakview Drive
Kettering, OH 45429
937 242 6095
Cain Haley
PO Box 1234
Highlands, NC 28741-1234
828 787 1955
[email protected]
Judy Lindeman
3519 Green Springs
San Antonio, TX 78247 2900
210 496 0161
[email protected]
Beth Hicks
3840 Charbon Lane
Bartlett, TN 38133
901 372 3394
[email protected]
Ethics Committee
Jennifer Sable
104 Country Place
Washington, NC 27889
914 282 5648
[email protected]
Kit Mounger
485 Cottontail Lane
Afton, TN 37616
423 639 1585
[email protected]
[email protected]
webmaster
Caron Gray: address above as
Midwest Director
The Scratch Sheet
Spring Summer 2013
Page 16
From the internet...
I know, I know but since some
of us (gasp!) are dog lovers,
too, this one was just too good
to pass up….