If you don't know what CCL stands for, then you ain't one. And maybe you should stop reading right now. Because if you're just gonna make fun, well, we can't be friends anymore. You can see the beginnings of a CCL here. I was well on my way at three (maybe three and a half years old. I was a tall child).
Yesterday I went to my first cat show with my friend Rosemary. I don't even know how I qualify as being a CCL if I've lived this long without going to a cat show!
She's waiting until she settles in here before she gets a cat, in the meantime, she comes to my house to get her feline fix.
We made a blood pact not to come home with anything breathing. Except ourselves.
Rosemary said she's up for a cat show about every six years - they're boring and she's right.
Because really, once you've seen one older woman with glasses and a bouffant hairdo hold up a cat, you've seen 'em all. (please God, don't let that happen to me!)
She did find her dream cat, a gorgeous 18 lb. Maine Coon who was one big moogy, fur-between-his-toes-snowshoe-size-pawed love muffin; this cattery also has a 26 pounder at home! Scroll down to bottom of page to see Whirlie. That picture doesn't do him justice.
I spent most of my time talking with Jean from Romanxx.
Got to love on sweet little Corazon, what a cutie. Jean has a boy kitten named Trouble, she'd "pet" (learned a new word!) out, she can't show him because he's a stumpy. She's in NC.
Danger, Will Robinson!
Bought a fleece cat bed from Siamese Cat Rescue and we were homeward bound - sans new cat(s). Yay!