Mishikoonz is a brand new adventure for me - this will be my first year breeding
While I don't have the decades of experience that some others do, I DO have two of the best mentors available willing to guide me: in TICA, Cathy Pettey of Petteycats, and in CFA, Sheila Haskins of CoonOpry. My thanks to both of these breeders of beautiful and healthy Maine coons for their willingness to share their time, their energy, and their knowledge. And especially - my thanks for their incredible Maine coons.
From Cathy comes the lovely Cady T, my first queen-in-waiting. If all goes as planned, Petteycats Cady T of Mishikoonz will in time produce kittens as charming as she is...heavy boned, lynx-tipped furballs with their mom's sweet personality. And from Sheila - more thanks than I can ever express for the loan of your most handsome Sebastian. I will do everything in my power to merit the trust that you've given me.
Mishikoonz is named for my first pedigreed Maine coon.
The REAL story, however, begins with a pet store rescue inappropriately called Cookie. I'd never even heard of Maine coons before - in fact, purebred cats as a whole were a little over the top in my opinion, right up there with designer shoes and spa vacations. Sure, I could afford them, but why would I want them? Every feline I'd ever been owned by had come to me either by chance or like Cookie, as a homeless rescue. Each one was unique and wonderful, but there was nothing special about a specific breed as far as I was concerned.
Cookie changed my mind. He was a big boy, a Maine coon mix of uncertain heritage with all of the qualities, I was to learn, of his pedigreed counterparts. Including a girlish little chirp that earned him his name. Cookie would meet me at the door when I got home from work, and was always there to "help" with every chore. And help me, he could! Giant mitten paws were into EVERYTHING. Even as a grownup, he played--patting water, rustling my papers, wrestling with the family mutt - and yet, he was somehow always gentle. He was my constant companion and counselor (well, at least he always listened) through two sons, divorce and graduate school. I've had other pets, both before and after, but Cookie was special. Losing him was like losing a best friend.
Several years passed, and I decided it was time to find another Maine coon.
I first saw Mishi on his breeder's website, and instantly fell in love. At six months, he was an "older kitten", a classic brown tabby with white whose cheek bore a brown spot that mimicked Cookie's. I quickly emailed to see if he was still available and how I could get him--I live in Texas; he was in Michigan. No problem. The breeder ships cats all the time. I marveled at signing a contract to BUY a cat and paypaled my money. The Michigan cat was mine.
Any kid waiting for Christmas had nothing on me. I talked constantly about my Maine coon from Michigan. This was over the holiday season and the breeder was busy. Shipment was delayed. The Michigan cat became the Mishi-cat. A week passed and then two. Just Mishi now. I started going to cat shows and met some local fanciers and breeders.
I was just about ready to give up on Mishi when things finally came together--and there I was at the airport, signing the shipment forms. I hauled the carrier out to my car and I could wait no longer. I opened the door and Mishi stepped out, tilted his head, and chirped curiously at me. Same little girly chirp. I was hooked.
Mishi's official name is Koontucky Sterling Sky. Being neutered at an early age, he will contribute nothing (other than inspiration) to my breeding program. While he may have no kittens of his own, however, indirectly, Mishi started it all, since he was the one who convinced me that Cookie was no fluke--Maine coons are indeed a special kind of cat.
The OTHER guilty parties to this adventure are our friends Karen and Howard, whose innocent invitation to my first cat show started a cascade of involvement that I think still astounds them. I honestly don't even remember if that first show was in TICA or CFA, but I knew I wanted to get involved. Who could have ever guessed by how much?
My husband - helpless to resist my babycats - will sometimes question "Uhhh, how many cats did you say you wanted?" This happens most often as we struggle for a place among the fur on what should be OUR bed. I can only shrug and sheepishly smile. Just wait 'til the kittens get turned loose!
Cari Tucker, March 2009