A Kitten's First Show

Claude’s First Trip to a Show

Let me preface this story by saying that I never ever saw myself participating in any kind of show, much less a cat show. When my husband mentioned going to car shows (yes, c-a-r shows), I balked. I wasn’t a fan of walking around a parking lot and looking at what other people have. But somewhere along the line, soon after learning about Napoleon cats, I got hooked in showing them. It may have started as curiosity or it could have come from boredom—who can remember trivial stuff like that—but my husband and I went to our first cat show in Denver in 2014. We were just spectators and it was being held in conjunction with a fair, so we were able to delude ourselves into thinking that we’d gone to the fair and had just wandered into the cat show while looking around.

We went into the exhibition hall hoping to see Napoleons so we could see them in person, but there were no Napoleons at the show. Still, I got a little excited while watching the competition, even if it was hugely confusing. At the time, we were thinking about getting Napoleons and I started to wonder what it would be like to show them.

When we got our first two girls, Lady Bing and Queen Josephine, my husband and I had to seriously consider it. But what I didn’t know then was that Napoleons were not showing in championship in TICA (the International Cat Association). They were only allowed to show in the Advanced New Breed category (ANB), which is an experimental phase to see if they could advance to championship. Just for the heck of it, my husband and I entered Josie and Bing into the kitten class of Advanced New Breed to see how they would do.

It’s not important how they did in the show since cats don’t rack up points in ANB. What did result from it was a desire to show competitively. In May 2016, TICA advanced the Napoleon breed to championship status, which meant that Napoleons could compete with the best of cats out there. I was hooked and I made a point of getting a show-eligible cat when I was looking for my boy.

We got our boy after a long search when Judy Felsman of Judy’s Cuties in Tampa contacted me about a standard male kitten she had who was also eligible to compete in championship. He became Clawed Lemieux, a.k.a. Claude, and a member of our family shortly thereafter.

I should begin by saying that Claude was a rambunctious and mischievous kitten. He immediately bonded with my husband and looked at me with disdain. I’m the one who took care of his litter box and his room, and groomed and bathed him. To him, I was the maid and nanny. My husband was his buddy. I was a little worried how the two of us would get along when I took him to his first show without my husband along, who was going to stay home with the rest of the animals. Josie and Bing were due to have their first litters on the same weekend. I wasn’t thrilled that I might miss the births of our first kittens, but I was going to take the opportunity to return Riddler, a stud from Indiana that I was using, to his owner, who was going to be showing her cats at the show as well. It would save me the airfare of sending Riddler home by meeting his owner halfway.

I prepared the car for the nine-hour trip to Wichita with two cats. I set up a litter box in the back of our Denali, which could fold down the back seats to create a flat bed behind the front seats. I set up the show shelter in the back seat for Claude to travel in, which took up quite a bit of space, and allowed Riddler free range of the car while I drove, hoping that the space to roam around would set him at ease. However, Riddler was nervous and began foaming at the mouth as we started off. I’d seen him do this on the drive back from the airport when we’d pick him up from his owner and it was just a display of anxiety. I wasn’t worried because I knew he would soon settle down. In the back, Claude began to cry, wanting to get out of the show shelter. Afraid that he would get into trouble if he was loose, I ignored his request.

An hour into the drive, Riddler found a spot on my lap and settled down. Claude kept crying but I ignored him. Then all was quiet in the back and I attributed it to the little guy having grown tired of trying to get my attention. I thought everything was going to be perfect. But minutes later, Claude climbed onto my lap from the left side, startling me. The little guy had figured out a way of opening the zipper on the show shelter and had slipped out.

I pulled onto the side of the road to return him to his shelter, but seeing his pleading look, I decided to leave him loose so he could have the freedom of the car. From that moment forward, he was satisfied. He and Riddler vied back and forth for the prime position on my lap, with the other taking the passenger seat. At times, Claude would climb up my shoulder to sit on the back of the driver’s seat to watch the passing scenery. It was all very pleasant and sweet.

We got into Wichita late that night, thanks to my husband’s not-so-helpful instructions of sending me an hour out of the way. At that point, I checked into the hotel and got the “kids” settled in. By that, I mean I let them loose in the room to roam around. They took three minutes to deem the place safe before they began to chase each other around. With eight hours of sleep under their belt, they were wide eyed and awake. They had no intention of tuckering out. The only thing that distracted them was when I opened the cooler to make my dinner. That’s when the brakes came on and they surrounded me for handouts.

Let me point out that cats are not like dogs when they want your food. They don’t sit patiently for a morsel handed to them; they take what they want. I must admit, Riddler was more reserved than Claude, who made it near impossible for me to eat a sandwich while I was sitting on the bed. I discovered that his favorite food is sour cream potato chips, which he had a couple. Big mistake, as I was going to see soon enough.

With dinner in the background, the kids settled down. It was almost three a.m. and we had only four hours before we’d have to get ready for the show. Claude and Riddler finally relaxed on the bed, which was a spacious king. When you normally sleep with another person and four dogs, an opportunity to sleep without them is a luxury. However, Claude and Riddler had other ideas. Instead of spreading out, they decided to box me in the whole time. And trying to move a cat doesn’t work. They have a mind of their own and will take their spot wherever they please.

Four short hours later, we got up to get ready for the show. Riddler and Claude had their breakfast while I got their show items into the car. It was a short drive to the show hall and all went well. We met up with Riddler’s owner, Samantha McConnell from Pawcity Cattery, and set up our bench. The show was supposed to begin at 9 a.m. but a storm the night before had delayed some of the staff from getting in on time. Samantha and another woman showing a Napoleon kitten sat with me while we waited for the judging to begin.

Then the sour cream potato chips came back to bite me in the arse. I smelled it at the same time I heard Claude scratching in his litter box. It was not a pleasant smell, nothing like what cat poop is supposed to smell like. And when I checked Claude to comb out any remnants of kitty litter in his feet, I noticed that his bum and belly were covered in yellow diarrhea.

I panicked. It was past 9 a.m. and the judging was about to begin. This was Claude’s first show and I didn’t want him to either miss a judging or to be known as the kitten covered in poop. I immediately ran him to the restroom and stuck his butt in the sink, making a mess of the counter in the meantime. Of course, the restroom was occupied and I apologized profusely for the mess. Once I got Claude cleaned up, I looked around for one of those annoying blow dryers that all public restrooms have. Unfortunately, this one didn’t, only paper towels, which meant that my cat would end up going to judging with a soaked butt. Not the best first impression to make.

A woman in the restroom approached me with sympathy and said that she knew someone who could work magic on a cat who’d soiled himself. She promised that within five minutes my Claude would be good as new.

I quickly followed her out of the bathroom and through the mass of competitors and cats, to a woman who was grooming her own feline. My savior explained to the woman my predicament and asked if she would assist me.

The woman graciously took Claude out of my hands and went into a whirlwind of action. She continuously flipped Claude around in ways he’d never been handled before, dousing him in baby powder and combing him out, while Claude did his squirrel growl and tried to bite the comb. The woman took his behavior in stride, telling him to settle down and advising me that I shouldn’t be afraid to comb him. I took the advice without a word, just thankful that she was saving mine and Claude’s butt in the meantime.

No sooner was she was done, turning Claude into a sweet-smelling kitten rather than a vomit-inducing sewer system, than the first judging was called. I was able to proudly produce my kitten to the judge with my head held high. Lesson learned: no more sour cream potato chips for Claude. Or any cat, for that matter.

Claude did great before the judges, being adorable while he was handled. He played with all the toys he was teased with and even sat up on his hind legs like a meerkat, which astounded the judges and spectators. That day, he took first in judging twice, but he didn’t go to finals. Riddler spent the day in the show shelter next to him and it was an overall successful time. However, when the show was over and I took Claude back to the hotel alone, he was depressed. He didn’t have Riddler with him. His friend had gone home with his owner and Claude had no one to play with, so he crawled behind the bed and stayed there for hours on end.

I let my boy pout while I took a nap, then worked out. But after a shower, I decided it was time for him to come out from behind the bed. To prevent him from going back there, I stuffed towels in the two spaces at the ends of the bed.

It was time for dinner, which consisted of sandwiches again from stuff I’d brought from home. Claude got excited when I brought out the bag of potato chips, which I quickly hid away before he could get any ideas. No more potato chips for him, which meant none for me either. But it seemed that Claude was over his depression, which was the important thing.

When it was time for bed, Claude curled up at my neck and fell asleep. It was sweet and I went to sleep feeling loved. However, whenever I moved, he’d wake up and lick my face. Not the most soothing feeling in the middle of the night, having your face scraped by 60-grit sandpaper, which is what a cat’s tongue feels like. But I got the gist of it: we were bonding.

The next morning saw us off to the second day of the show and Claude had to compete against yet another Napoleon kitten that was there. He did okay, but he didn’t take first in showing for the first five judgings. That was okay, because I was looking at a nine-hour drive home right after the show; and with Claude not being first in breed, it meant that we could leave early. So I was actually rooting for Claude to be second in breed on the last judging so we could slip out ahead of schedule. But nooooo, he wouldn’t stand for that. The little scamp took first in judging with the sixth and last judge. That meant we had to wait to see if he made it to finals.

I grudgingly sat back to see if his number showed up in the ring for finals, but when that time came, he didn’t make it. I was more disappointed about missing the opportunity to leave early than I was for him not having made finals. I packed up our gear and said goodbye to all our new found friends, then got on the road with Claude to head on home. No carrier for him for the trip; he snuggled up on my lap and settled in to sleep after a tiring day. I didn’t regret the long drive; I actually enjoyed it, having a loving kitten on my lap while I drove through the plains of Kansas back to Colorado.

We got home late that night and all was well. I had bonded with a cat that had been more attached to my husband than me. We had developed a connection over the weekend and I’d learned something. Claude was a great little traveler and a happy-go-lucky kitten. He loves people and is a ham when he’s up on stage. He might not have taken Wichita by storm but he showed the judges that Napoleons are adorable cats with a lot of personality. I looked forward to our next show, even if it won’t be alone. My husband was jealous and wants to go with us. I just hope he doesn’t undo all the hard work I did to get Claude on my side.

Claude Lemiuex getting his Supreme by TICA Allbreed Judge Joe Edwards in Amarillo, TX.