Whiskers, Whispers, and Why I’m Tired
While You Read… feel free to put on your favorite revenge anthem.
May I suggest “Cancelled” by Taylor Swift? Or maybe “Actually Romantic”, also by Taylor Swift. Both pair well with silent judging and loud keyboard courage.
There’s a thrill that comes with showing cats, the nervous energy, the last-minute grooming panic, the tiny brush you forgot at home. And of course, the pride of seeing a cat you raised from a toe bean with a milk mustache turn into a ring-ready, floofy cat. We arrive with hopes, with hard work behind us, and with a shared love of the cats we’ve poured our hearts into raising. It’s a space where passion meets purpose. But increasingly, I find myself walking away from shows with something heavier than joy. Not because of the judging, not because of the ribbons, but because of the energy in the room. Somewhere between the finals and fur, the sparkle’s faded. The unspoken tension between exhibitors, the glances, and the silence where there should be support. And honestly? It’s disheartening.
We Didn’t Start This Journey for Ribbons
Ask any breeder why they got involved in showing cats. You will likely hear a version of the same story. Whether it is because they want to better the breed, prove their cats, or meet others who love the cats as much as they do. Rarely if every does someone say, “I joined this world just to win.”. And yet, somewhere along the way, it feels like some of us have forgotten that.
The ribbons, titles, and accolades are rewarding of course. Although they are byproducts of our commitment, not the purpose itself. At its heart, showing is about education, preservation, and connection. It’s about celebrating the beautiful animals we steward and sharing them with the world.
Winning Shouldn’t Be Lonely
Here’s the truth that no one wants to post about or admit: Sometimes, winning sucks. You finally do it, the big title, the sparkly rosette, the cat that everyone said “had potential”. It should feel good to win. Instead it’s often met not with cheers and camaraderie, but with judgement, cold shoulders, and a not so quiet whisper campaign that starts with “Did you hear….?”. behind your back. No one says it outright, but you feel it. And that hurts more than losing ever could.
There’s an unwritten code in competitive circles; if it’s not your win, keep quiet. In the cat fancy, where we often tout ourselves as family, this mindset simply does not belong. Titles don’t always come easily. Titles are earned over time, with countless hours of travel, grooming, showing, and dedication. A moment that should come with celebration. Judges may offer a kind, quick congratulations. But among exhibitors? Silence. Whispers. Averted eyes. No one has to throw a parade, but a simple “Congratulations” wouldn’t hurt. Respect should not be a rare commodity.
The Quiet “Poison” in the Aisles
It’s ironic, isn’t it? That part of TICA’s motto centers around friendship, and yet, it’s often the last thing you’ll feel in the aisles. Someone you once shared a bench with may be the first to point, to whisper, to pass judgment, not just on your cat, but on you. I’ve seen seasoned exhibitors talk down to new ones. I’ve watched gossip spread like wildfire. Making comments about things that have nothing to do with the cats. You may think it goes unnoticed, but it doesn’t and it is deeply disrespectful.
At a show we attended a few months ago, I overheard two exhibitors criticizing someone, not about their breeding ethics, not about their cats’ health or condition, but about the size of their home. What on earth does that have to do with the way they care for their cats? What does that have to do with the show ring? The answer is simple: nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yet this is the undercurrent, the petty gossip, the personal jabs, the veiled comments and newcomers are watching.
It doesn’t take much to make someone feel small, especially in a setting where emotions and effort run high. Whether intended or not, pointing and whispering communicates exclusion, judgement, and cattiness. None of which have any place in a show hall built on mutual respect and admiration for the animals.
When It Crosses the Line: Talking About Other People’s Cats
What is worse than silence? Hearing someone talk negatively about your cat, the very animal that you’ve poured your heart into raising. This has happened to me. My own cat, who I raised with love and intention, was “bad mouthed” in a show hall by a fellow exhibitor after a win. Not whispered lightly but bitterly, audibly, with the kind of energy that wasn’t just critical, it was mean spirited. If we are being honest, this has happened on more than one occasion. It was uncomfortable, it was disrespectful, and it was beyond disappointing.
You don’t have to love every cat that wins, but to demean someone else’s animal, especially one that has earned their moment in the ring is a reflection of poor sportsmanship, not breeding insight. It’s ok to be disappointed, we are all entitled to our own opinions, it’s not ok to be disrespectful.
What are we teaching?
This isn’t just about who wins a final. This is about the culture that is being created. New exhibitors come into the fancy wide-eyed and hopeful. They trust the more seasoned faces. They may look up to those with titles and years of experience. And too often, they’re being handed bitterness dressed as truth. Experienced exhibitors should be the example, not the warning. You don’t welcome someone into a sport by pulling them into corners (or just slightly behind the chairs in a ring) to badmouth others. You don’t teach community by weaponizing whispers. You don’t pass on wisdom by planting seeds of drama. People are being shown that success is isolating, that friendship is conditional, and that kindness is weakness. And we wonder why some never come back. I mean, can you blame them?
This is Bigger Than Ribbons
How you treat your cat is far more important than what you accomplish with your cat. Read that again.
Our cats don’t know if they’re in first or fifth. They don’t care about titles or plaques. What they do know is how we feel. They feel our stress, our frustration, our pride, our joy. When we turn the ring into a space of silent rivalries and tension, we’re not just failing each other, we’re failing them. It’s one thing to be competitive, it’s another to be cruel. No ribbon, title, or final is worth it. We don’t have to be best friends. But we do owe each other humanity. And if we can’t even offer that, then what are we even doing?
To the Ones Who Still Get It
To those who still say “Congratulations” or “Good Job” even when it stings a little, thank you. To those who cheer from the sidelines, who guide without gossip, and who welcome newcomers without prejudice, you are what’s helping to keep this community alive. You’re rare, you’re golden. You’re why some of us still continue to show up, even if we don’t want to. If you’ve ever felt the sting of being left out after a win or the pain of hearing someone insult the cat that you love, you’re not alone. This post is not a rant, it’s a reminder. A reminder that our cats deserve show halls filled with encouragement, not tension. That new exhibitors deserve to see models of grace, not bitterness. And that no win should feel isolating. Like seriously, if you’ve forgotten your why… find it again.
Oh, and to whom it may concern, I do still have a polydactyl. I know, apparently that’s shocking and scandalous. The gossip practically writes itself. I’ve even heard that the breeder “just sells to anyone now”. Well, I guess I’m anyone. And yes, the certain breeder is fully aware. Has always been aware. So I’m really not sure why some of you are so concerned. Let’s use some general logic here: I have one polydactyl female, Alexa. Not a boy. Not a breeding pair. And last I checked, two girls can’t make a litter, not even in the most creative rulebooks. So if you’re talking, let’s be honest this isn’t about the cats. This is about control I guess. About insecurity maybe? It’s about inserting yourself where you don’t belong. Let me say this clearly, as if this post hasn’t: This community is supposed to be built on trust and friendship. If you don’t value those things, don’t expect silence from the ones who do. You’re welcome to your opinions. You’re not entitled to twist the truth.
We can’t control everything, but we can control how we treat each other. Let’s make that choice at every show, every ring, every day. Because at the end of the day, we’re not just showing cats. We’re showing who we are.
Sincerely, a Maine Coon Breeder & Exhibitor who came for my cats, not to survive a reality series without a camera crew, and is beginning to wonder if it’s time to bow out for a while.
