A thought has been sitting with me over the past few days.
Conan was sold as a companion pet. Not because he wasn’t a good cat, but because he wasn’t considered a show prospect.
Yet somehow, he earned his Premier title.
That made me look at his journey differently.
Maybe he’s a companion pet… plus plus.
Not a top show cat. Not the obvious choice for the ring. But good enough to stand alongside purpose-bred show cats and earn points.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot why I entered our first show.
It wasn’t to collect ribbons.
It was simply to try.
After Conan started earning points, I quietly moved the goalpost. Every show became about whether he would score again.
Looking back, I don’t think that pressure came from my breeder.
She has always said the same thing.
As long as Conan is okay, and I’m still enjoying the process, that’s enough.
Of course she would know. She was the one who raised him. She knew his strengths, his limitations, and how nervous he used to be.
Maybe that’s why she never measured his success by ribbons.
I did.
These days, Conan seems calmer in the ring. He finishes his rings. He still gets compliments. Every now and then, he surprises me with a point.
Maybe that’s enough.
For now, I’ll continue showing him in CFA pedigree.
Not because I expect him to become Grand.
But because this is the path we started together.
If he earns more points, they’re a bonus.
If he doesn’t, he has already achieved more than anyone expected from a companion pet.
The biggest realization wasn’t about Conan.
It was about me.
I wasn’t putting pressure on him.
I was putting pressure on myself.
Conan never cared about ribbons.
He probably just cares that, after a long day at the show, we go home together.
