Forty minutes for fifteen years. A conversation with myself

Except that over my years of breeding, that rule produced absolutely opposite extremes. There were wonderful, ideal future owners for whom choosing a kitten went exactly as the textbook says — they came for one particular little one, and a different kitten climbed onto their lap and made the decision for them. There were also people who treated the visit as a free petting zoo, running weekend tours of the local catteries to keep the children occupied. And there were those who, without a trace of embarrassment, asked to be shown the entire house, our very private bedrooms and the whole garden included.

This piece opens the interviews section at mrumi. It will carry conversations with people who work with cats every day — behaviourists, veterinarians, nutritionists — but also with people who simply share a roof with cats, run foster homes, or run catteries themselves. I am starting with myself, though, because it seems right to answer first the questions you intend to put to others. And I have had my questions ready for a long time. They are the ones I heard from people who came for a cat — and the ones I never heard once.

How does the decision to have a cat begin?

Let us start at the beginning. What did the process look like before anyone even crossed our threshold? It began with answering the phone, the first questions and settling on a date. And that was not at all simple. It was never a fifteen-minute visit you could drop in on along the way, but a meeting lasting at least an hour. Time I had to set aside for complete strangers. Time during which we were to decide whether this would be the new family of our feline child. I wanted to be sure, after all, that the kitten would go to the right family and be well looked after.

Finding a date could be a challenge too. Breeding is not a profitable business but a hobby born out of a love of cats. Which is why visits happen in between ordinary life — work and everyday matters. The kittens had to have had their second vaccination already. There could be no other planned procedures or veterinary work at the cattery during that period, nothing that might affect the health or lower the immunity of the whole group. And, importantly: I did not run around with a cloth beforehand, hiding battered scratching posts or moving litter boxes. The cats in our cattery were simply part of life. They took part in it daily, genuinely lived with us, and did not magically disappear when the doorbell rang.

And at what point did I actually start assessing the future owner?

Much earlier than on the doorstep. I started with the first message or phone call. Because I bred Siberians and Neva Masquerades, we were up against the myth of the "hypoallergenic breed". That generated a very particular kind of enquiry. A great many people rang or came round purely to test their allergy. They were hoping for a miracle and believed the promises online that with this breed a runny nose and breathlessness were certain not to appear.

People also wrote a great many messages, starting with the three-word variety: "Any kittens?", "How much?", "Available?". And to be completely honest — unlike most breeders I know — questions about money did not offend me at all. I know that in breeding circles the question "How much is this cat?" often provokes holy indignation, but not from me. I considered it entirely normal, I could see where it came from, and it absolutely did not rule a family out for me.

Far worse, to my mind, were questions of a different sort: "Will the cat scratch the furniture?", "Will it let itself be carried around?" or "Does he really have to be neutered?". Those were the ones that set off the warning light, not the question about money.

It was never the question about price that worried me. What worried me was the question of whether the cat really had to be neutered.

Equally importantly, having never owned a cat before ruled nobody out. To this day we are in close touch with people for whom our little ones were absolutely the first cats of their lives. Those are wonderful homes, and they are exactly the sort of owners I would wish on anyone. I did take a fairly open approach to breeding and gave more or less everyone a chance. I had a few iron rules and questions I cared about — among them that the cat was to be indoor-only, with a secured balcony, and going to a loving family.

Unfortunately reality can be brutal, and as a breeder I was not able to check everything. Sometimes I simply had to trust, and trust can fail. I do not mean only the owners here, but other breeders our cats went to as well. There are dishonest people in my history too. From other breeders I also know stories that should never have happened. A cat in its new home suffered a serious accident — falling from an unsecured balcony and injuring its spine. And after a while the family demanded that the breeder… supply a replacement cat under warranty, claiming the animal had a genetic defect, while forgetting one "small" detail: the fall from the third floor. I am well aware that accidents happen everywhere, but this is about plain honesty. In a situation like that, would you hand another feline child to that family?

What surprised me most in conversations face to face? And what happens afterwards, once the visit is over?

There were owners who seemed the ideal candidates to become new families for our kittens. They asked about the temperament of one particular little one, wondered how it would settle in alongside their older resident cat, enquired whether chronic illness had occurred in our line. Those were the moments I felt calm, with a sense that the kitten would have a good home. Although — as I wrote above — that was never a condition that gave complete certainty we were choosing well.

On the other hand, questions about costs were rare. Everyone asked about the price of the kitten, but almost nobody wondered aloud what keeping a cat would cost over the next fifteen years. When I reminded them (having already mentioned it on the phone) that the kitten would leave us having had early neutering, some still tried to postpone the procedure — until after the queen's first litter, for instance.

And what was hardest about these meetings and adoptions? Not judging whether we were choosing well, but the myths people repeat. The marketing of the Siberian and Neva Masquerade rested on the promise of a hypoallergenic breed. Except that this is not the whole truth. In reality allergy is highly individual, but you can read about that in earlier articles. Many people who struggled with allergies day to day decided to take a cat, because after all, if it was not too bad during the cattery visit, it would be fine at home too. Sadly it does not work that way — dose and duration of contact matter enormously here — and for a breeder of Siberians and Nevas that is a real risk: those kittens come back. And it is not a matter of refunding the full purchase price. Sometimes, despite the sincerest intentions, the allergy wins and the cat has to return to the cattery. Over the years I learned that you must not hold it against the family giving the cat up. Confronting your own health and deciding to part with a beloved animal is a dreadfully hard and painful part of the process for them too.

I still remember to this day the story of a woman who developed a severe allergy after taking a kitten home. Her symptoms were genuinely serious; at night she had trouble breathing. Fortunately that story has a good ending, because the last thing that family wanted was to get rid of the cat. They fought, they went through desensitisation and in the end they won. The cat stayed with them.

When I think about all of it today, I realise that the hardest thing about being a breeder was never the births. Not the sleepless nights, not raising the little ones or the vaccinations. The hardest thing was that arithmetic: forty minutes for fifteen years. You sit with someone over coffee for an hour and, on the basis of that single short conversation, you have to decide the entire life of a creature you have known since its first breath.

The hardest thing was that arithmetic: forty minutes for fifteen years.

Let us turn it around at the end. If you are going to collect a cat today, what should you be looking at?

At the questions the breeder asks you. If none are asked, and from the doorstep the two of you are discussing only the deposit, that is not politeness on the breeder's part but an alarm signal. See whether you can look at the kittens' mother (a queen is entitled to be thinner after nursing a litter, but she should not be terrified of people). Check whether the kittens are being raised in ordinary household noise, with the television and vacuum cleaner in the background, or kept in a sterile, quiet room of their own. And listen for whether the breeder can talk about the faults of their breed. Every breed has its drawbacks, and a good breeder will list them faster than you can ask.

So why do I no longer breed?

Because my sister took over the cattery and does it brilliantly; there is no dramatic story here. What has stayed in my head is a different perspective. I know what that hour looks like from both sides of the door. I know what the breeder opening it is looking for, and I know how lost the person walking through it can be. Which is why today, instead of breeding, I write about it.

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Frequently asked

What should I pay attention to during a cattery visit?

Above all, to the questions the breeder asks you. If none are asked and the conversation is about the deposit from the doorstep onwards, that is not politeness — it is a warning sign. Ask to see the kittens' mother; a queen is entitled to look thinner after nursing a litter, but she should not be terrified of people. Check whether the kittens are growing up in ordinary household noise, with the television and the vacuum cleaner in the background, or in a quiet room of their own. And listen for whether the breeder can talk about the faults of their breed.

Will a breeder turn me down if I have never had a cat before?

With me, inexperience ruled nobody out. To this day I am in touch with people for whom our kitten was absolutely the first cat of their lives — and those are wonderful homes. I did have a few iron rules I cared about: the cat was to be indoor-only, the balcony secured, the family a loving one. Assume a breeder will ask about such things, and take it as a point in their favour.

Are Siberian and Neva Masquerade cats hypoallergenic?

That is not the whole truth, and for years it was the hardest part of the whole job for me. Allergy is highly individual, and the fact that symptoms did not appear during a visit of a few hours settles nothing about daily life with a cat under the same roof. For a breeder of these breeds it is a real risk, because such kittens sometimes come back. If you have an allergy, treat this as a decision to discuss with a doctor rather than a promise made by a breed.

Does a kitten leave the cattery already neutered?

Ours did, and I said so during the first phone call. Even so, people sometimes tried to postpone the procedure — for instance until after the queen's first litter. Early neutering is a separate subject, and I have given it a separate article along with the data.