CJ has given me this tough cat persona and now she’s decided I am possibly a valuable breed called Ragamuffins. She said it makes sense because people sometimes abandon animals out here in the backcountry without regard for their breeding, which she said could be how my mom ended up living under a café where I was born.
I looked it up and Wikipedia says the Ragamuffin is an offshoot of a breed introduced in California in the 1960s by Mrs. Ann Baker. She trademarked the name ‘Ragdoll,’ and set up her own registry—International Ragdoll Cat Association (IRCA). In 1994, a second group decided to leave the IRCA and form its own group because of increasingly strict breeding restrictions. Since the name ‘Ragdoll’ was trademarked, the group renamed its stock of Ragdoll cats Ragamuffins.
It says Ragamuffins are a muscular, heavy breed of cat not reaching full maturity until approximately four years of age. I am still kittenish in many ways. But I meet the physical traits with my rectangular, broad-chested body with shoulders supporting my short neck. My head is a broad, modified wedge with a rounded forehead and a dip on the bridge of my nose. Our fur can be any color. Mine is smoke-colored, slightly longer around the neck and outer edges of my face, so it looks like a ruff. As you can see, my coat is thick and plush, but it does not readily mat or clump and is easy to care for.
Here’s the best part. Ragamuffins are bred to be sociable, intelligent, affectionate, cuddly companions that are playful throughout their lives.
So yes, I’m feral so I appear tough but I’m really just shy—although I’m still a great hunter. And if I had papers proving my breeding, I would be worth a thousand dollars dahling.
