Sonya Stanislow Tati-Tan

«When Dauphin was awarded Best Cat, I was in a state of euphoria, but this was short-lived. Many longhair breeders objected to the outcome of the judging and more or less demanded that he be recalled to the ring to determine if he indeed met the standard and was not slipping by with some disqualifying fault like polydactylism. As a matter of fact, Dauphin was called back to the ring not once but THREE times. The judge finally faced the crowd and said, «Sorry, this cat is still my best in show». It should have been a happy time, but before long I was literally crying my eyes out because so many breeders were so angry over the judge’s decision.

The situation did not change from show to show and my Maines’ wins were met with great opposition. Many times I heard Dauphin referred to as «that garbage can cat» or «that long-haired stray». These comments weren’t made exactly sotto voce either! But as the saying goes, when the going gets tough, the tough get going

In the late ’60’s you had your choice of either ACA or CCA since they were the only Associations that accepted our breed for Championship competition at that time. I showed in both. The most vivid memories of that period are of the trips up into Canada for the Canadian Cat Club shows. Imagine lugging three cats on the train from New York City to Toronto! A lot of work, but a lot of fun too

Promoting a breed to Championship is an expensive proposi tion. I figure that in 1968, I exhausted approximately $10,000, all I had in my savings account.

Little do the breeders of today realize what a hard uphill battle was fought for recognition of this breed

Well, the rest is all history…today our exquisite cats are beginning to command the respect they so richly deserve.»

The Maine Coon Cat

by Sonya Stanislow

Myths, legend and lore surround the Maine, Shag or American Longhair cat. Some are amusing, some are fantastic flights of fan tasy and some are merely plausible. They certainly provide good material for conversation. Books and articles dealing with these aspects of the Maine Coon have been well received as people never seem to tire of the subject and are always eager to know more about this wonderful breed.

I don’t intend to restate all that has been said in print already. Suffice to say, prior to its acceptance in the cat fancy as a registerable cat, the Maine Coon occurred ‘naturally’ in the Northeastern areas of the United States and Canada. Often referred to as a «Shag Cat» by local residents, the Maine Coon has always been highly prized both as a working animal and valued pet. Through its own mysterious breeding program, nature had produced a sturdy cat that was ideally suited to the harsh winters and varied seasons of the region. In addition, the cat’s good nature, intelligence and «dog-like» characteristics made it a very popular and sought-after feline on.

Of course, the Maine was always regarded for its beauty. In the first cat show ever held in this country, a Maine Coon was chosen as the best cat. Yet, despite these recommendations there was little interest shown in the Maine Coon by people involved in breeding purebred cats. And for many years, while breeders worked with foreign exotic cats, the native American longhaired cat was conspicuously absent from the showhall.

The Maine’s evolution from farm and backyard cat to a CFA finalist was not an easy one. Nor did it happen quickly. In fact, it has been a lengthy journey and it’s the story I’d like to tell at this time.

In 1962, I went to visit an old friend who was living in Upstate New York. When I walked into the house, I was stopped in my tracks by one of the biggest most beautiful cats I had ever seen. It was love at first sight. And it was mutual! That cat, which turned out to be «just a Maine Coon kitten» left with me when I returned to New York City.

Something had been released in me that I previously hadn’t known was there. I had always been a cat lover but this was different. I wanted to know everything about this breed and began seeking out what information was available and people who knew anything about them. Believe me, it wasn’t easy.

Everything finally fell in place when a friend of mine, who knew I was working on this project, told me that there was a cat show going on at the old Armory on 34th St., New York City. Well, I had never been to a cat show before and I have to tell you, it was an experience I’ll never forget!.

I wandered around. I watched the judging and talked to people about cats for hours. But the thing I remember most vividly was walking by an «Exhibition» cage and seeing a full grown Maine Coon that was identical to my own little kitten.
Perhaps I am the person responsible for the joke all Maine Coon breeders tell: «So that’s a Maine Coon,» I remarked, «Well I’ve got one at home just like it.» Except. that back then there were no Maine Coon breeders in CFA and the only place anyone had a Maine Coon was at home.

Back in the ’60’s, I think it would be fair to say that Maine Coon breeders were very few and very far be tween. There were some terrific people fighting the good fight for the Maine Coon then…Mrs. Whittemore, Lillias Vanderhoff, Nancy Silsbee, Rose Levy, Henrietta O’Neill, Mr. and Mrs. Eminhizer and, if you don’t mind, yours truly. If it had not been for the hard work and per severance of this group and some others I don’t have space to mention, the Maine Coon would probably still be out in the barn.
Promoting a breed for championship competition is not easy. It is expensive and time consuming and doesn’t lack for disappointments, opposition, and occasionally, ridicule.
It will always be a mystery to me that Americans look down on their «own» and revere things with foreign origins. Aren’t Siamese, Korats, Japanese Bobtails, etc.. etc., etc., the Maine Coons of their lands? A cat, to me, should always be judged on its own merit. Where it comes from or what it’s called shouldn’t influence. anyone. I have always been able to appreciate the «majes ty» of a good Persian or the «elegance» of a good Siamese. But it took a long time for many people to appreciate the «presence» of the Maine Coon.

I guess I’m just a feisty person. The more someone tells me «NO», the harder I fight. This must be a trademark of Maine Coon breeders. Because back then, we all spent endless hours writing proposals and cor responding with people to request and push for the re-acceptance of the Maine Coon in championship class. Of course, I look around at the shows today and see the great classes of Maine Coon and I know that it was all worth it. But at that time it was a lot of plain old hard work.65

COURTESY OF THE CFA ANNUAL YEARBOOK 1985 with permission of the Cat Fanciers’ Association and the Author

Scrath Sheet spring 1989

SONYA STANISLOW

As told by Sonya

I would like to take you on a journey into the past, but first, a detour. It was 1965 and a friend invited me to visit my first cat show. While browsing around, I suddenly came to an abrupt halt. There before me was this remarkably beau tiful Maine Coonidentical to the cat, Tanya, I had at home. I whipped out a photo from my purse and the owner agreed that there was a definite similarity. The breeder was pleasant and chatty, answering my various questions. She was very informative and outlined in detail how I should proceed in showing my cat in the future. She did, however mention that this breed was not yet recognized forchampionship competition. Visiting this show marked a turning point in my life and now for that journey.

I was fortunate in locating a veterinarian who was exceptionally knowledgeable in pre paring a cat prior to showing. After a thorough examination, he asked me what my plans were for Tanya. I told him I was interested in exhibitingher for competition. He instructed me to run my hand across her back and report what I felt. «Lumps!» was my response. He advised me to return home and groom this cat until there was not a hair left on the comb. «Return in one week and if I don’t notice a decided improvement in her appearance, I will personally toss your butt out of my office.» He was dead serious, and I was both angry and terrified. In a week’s time, I had combed out enough mats and fur to make a small pillow. The end result was more than gratifying. When I returned to his office, he failed to recognize her, so I knew that my efforts were well Regional Award compensated. The year is 1966; the place–the old Madison Square Garden in New York City. All cats being shown had to pass a veterinarian inspection at the show hall. Tanya was entered as a longhaired household pet. She had wonderful show presence and amenable to handling. She fared so well in the judging rings that the judge, the cat and I were televised that weekend.

This was not sufficient to satisfy me. The acceptance of this breed became an obsession with me. I felt compelled to pursue that goal at any cost. The following year, 1967, my Dauphin de France was bom (Kris Kringle X Petite Bon-Bon). Little did I realize that I was ahead of my time when I bred this stunning creature. He closely conformed to the standards of today. I registered my cats and cattery with every active association including Canada. I joined cat clubs, attended meetings, some of which were 8-9 hours from home, only to return with empty promises.

No other Maines were being shown, so I provided my own competi tion. At the request of some associations, I was encouraged to bring them in for exhibition only. The reaction of the spectators, which was favorable in every respect, prompted me to continue my cam paign. Very few breeders were eager to guide me in the proper direction. One Siamese breeder, ac tive in CFA whom I befriended, arranged to have one of my Maines appear on a live TV show (The Today Show). Bijou was a natural. I was so proud of him as I watched him on the huge color screen, while my face flooded with tears. Later there was a press conference and his photo chosen to appear in the daily news. I thought my son had taken on a paper route when he appeared that evening loaded down with a heap of newspapers.

One evening as I sat down to read «CATS Maga zine» that had just arrived, I felt as though struck by a bolt of lightning. There in black and white– «The Maine Coon has now been accepted by both ACA and CCA for Championship status.» My frustra tions released. I was ecstatic!

In 1968, I entered my first championship show (ACA) bringing my own competition. It surprised me that no other Maines were entered. I showed Dauphin, who by now was a promising adult, his «wife», Tatiana, Tanya and last but not least, my silver tabby American Shorthair, Pushkin. I would like to note that I did not own a car(and still don’t), so depended solely upon friends, railroad or rented a stationwagon, with a friend to drive me. When the Finals were announced in the first ring, all pandemonium broke loose. Dauphin was awarded Best Maine, Best Novice, Best Longhair, and finally, Best Cat. To add insult to injury, Pushkin made a Best Cat win in the Shorthair Division.

Needless to say, not a soul spoke to me and many longhair breeders demanded that Dauphin be recalled in hopes that the judge would locate at least one fault to rescind his monumental wins. The judge was firm and stood by his conviction repeating that there was no reason to fault him. The cats were overwhelmed with awards, which included rosettes, tro phies and monetary prizes. The final outcome of my first show managed to generate a tre mendous amount of hostility toward me and my felines.

I continued showing and in 1970 embarked on a long and tedious journey to Canada by railroad to show Dauphin and his red tabby son, Bijou. Since it was a one-day show, we left in the morning and returned home that evening. Again, no other Maines were in com petition. We were well received and genu inely felt welcome. Dauphin was Best Open; both he and Bijou were now International Champions.

My Siamese breeder friend persuaded me to enter the Manchester, NH show. Once again, I transported my entourage of competition. Murphy’s Law must have been working overtime. Prior to reaching the show hotel, the car battery died. Finally arriving, I unlocked the hotel room door and instead of breathing a sigh of relief, I gasped at the sight of a man’s clothing laid out on the bed with strains of «tenor operatics» coming from the bathroom shower. The Reservation Clerk had erroneously assigned my room to another. They transferred me to the last available room, which had a missing pane of glass in the window. My only remaining solution was to confine the cats comfortably in the bathroom. But there was no door. After such a lengthy trip, there was no confining them to their carriers. I ended up keeping a vigil on the cats and the window all night. By moming, I couldn’t locate them and was gripped with panic. After literally tearing the room apart, my friends and I discovered that they had burrowed a hole in the box spring and snuggled in. All were accounted for except my Pushkin. I rushed out into the hall in time to see him enter an open elevator. The doors closed and down he went. As I attempted to locate the stairwell, the elevator came back up and off walked my cat completely calm and unaffected by his adventure.

I was informed that this was a first for Maines -being shown in New Hampshire. My cages were constantly surrounded by admiring and curious individuals as I stood in the background absorbing the scene. Sometime during the show, I was approached by a person with a micro phone, who asked why the acceptance of this breed was delayed for so long. My response came quickly and candidly that Persian breeders reluctantly opposed the competition, much less welcomed other longhairs infringing on their ter ritory. Little did I know that this was part of a radio broadcast, later repeated over the show hall PA system for all to hear.

By now, I was programmed not to be intimi dated by any derogatory comments or conde scending glances. To sum it up–when the going gets tough, the tough get going. My life became one adventure after another and in between, I managed to judge a couple of household pet shows.

When other Maine Coon breeders began to surface, I had to endure unnecessary, unpleasant comments about my cats and myself personally. The more wins my felines accumulated, the more trying the situation became. As I traveled from show to show, I could hear whispers, «That cat,Dauphin, is here,» or «Here comes that crazy lady with her Maine Coons.» I braved a second trip to Canada in 1972 at which time there were now seven Maines entered from three breeders. Tony Morace, who is currently an ACFA Judge, andDeborah Hoyt joined me. We all had a good time at this show. At the Boston Show, Dauphin succeeded again to make a Best Cat win. Tony and Deborah had also entered their cats. History repeated itself-the Persian breeders raised an objection to Dauphin’s win, which remained unchanged. It wasn’t always Persian breeders. Once, my cat needed one BOB Champion win to Grand. He got it, only to have a Maine Coonbreeder protest it. The judge removed the ribbon and gave it to the other exhibitor. A counter-protest was to no avail. Eventually ICF, ACFA and CFF opened their doors to the Maines. In 1972, I joined an ACFA club and subsequently voted in as President of The Friendly Felines Cat Club. March 11-12th of that year, we put on a «show of shows» in Long Island City. We were instrumental in having what was prob ably the biggest Maine Coon entry since their recognition–23 adults comprising the following catteries: Mor-Ace, Norwynde, Tati-Tan, War-Tell, and Quan-Yin.

In the early years, we had a mixed bag of Maines. Most of the heads were rounder. Some had lengthy bodies; others, cobbier. The expres sions were sweeter and had abundant coat in comparison to the current types. Noses came in a variety from long straight to slightly concave to short with a decided break. Ears ranged from short to tall. There wasn’t the definition of classes as we have today. Any cat with white was thrown into the particolor class, i.e. rather than specify tabby w/white, the patched tabbies were classified as torbies.

The major problem was greasy coat and obviously we knew little about proper bathing. One judge finally commented on this fault and slowly we strived for improvement.

Although the Maines have gained their long-overdue rightful place among the other greats, our problems are far from over. There are still divergent opinions about the Maine Coon Standard. Many who have been around the show circuit for a good length of time have evidenced changes in predominantly two breeds–the Persians and the Siamese. I have always supported improvement, but what I currently observe is an effort to drastically alter the appearance of the Maine Coon, perhaps to the point of no return. As a direct result of repeated inbreeding, longevity can no longer be applied to our feline friend. I myself was offered a female who produced two cardiomyopathic kittens in one litter, both of which expired before they reached nine months of age. Her pedigree revealed an alarming amount of inbreeding and rather than experience future loss and tragic deaths, she was spayed.

In the thirty years that I have been breeding, I have received many inquiries about purchasing a kitten that will eventually attain 35-40 pounds a s adults. My immediate reponse is that they check out their local zoo. Any breeder who guarantees size is not being honest. To repeat what I have stated many years ago, we are again sacrificing type for size. The Maine Coon is a domestic cat and not intended to house the physical structure and weight of its ancestor, the Lynx Cat, even though both sport lynx tips. Attempting to create a much larger cat could be detrimental to its normal physical functions and could partially be responsible for the hip dysplasia that is now apparent in some of our Maines.

Some breeders are currently breeding Maines with longer muzzl probably an attempt to give them a dog-like appearance. The sweet expressions, once a revered integral part of this feline, is too quickly fading into a feature of the past. Throughout history, man has always had the compulsion to change or destroy that which is beautiful.
The breeders of today little realize or comprehend the effort throug sweat and tears, let alone financial stress directed at removing this uniqu cat from the barm. Don’t put him back.»

Sonya Stanislow has slowed little. She is a full-time nurse in gastroenterology and cardiology practice. When asked to write the memories and thoughts, she and Mrs. Whittemore were eager to do so And they hand-wrote page upon page of information. That’s how mud they care for our breed and want to share with you. There are many strom and forthright statements in Sonya’s article, but that’s the kind of person took to ramrod our breed up the ladder to acceptance. You may still cal an occasional judge holding back, reticent to even touch a Maine Coon and hastily return it to its cage. We are carrying on Sonya’s and the other pioneer work even today.

Sonya continues to show (when a friend will provide transportation and occasionally judges a Household Pet ring here and there.