Yoga for Fat Cats

Here our plus-sized model George demonstrates the Sleeping Forward Bend, proving yoga is not just for skinny cats.

Begin in a relaxed sitting position, spreading feet a comfortable distance apart. If you have a tail, wrap it around your left leg for balance. Stretch your upper body over the right leg, eventually allowing your head to sink to the floor. For added relaxation, have a human rub your belly while you hold the pose and meditate.

Namaste.

The New Kitty Cottage

As of last month, Kitty Cottage has finally realized a long-time dream of purchasing a home! It’s a charming three-story house in Norristown, formerly owned by a chiropractic office. With lots of windows throughout, plenty of cozy corners and a wide open space to romp on the third floor, the new Kitty Cottage is already beginning to look like the perfect haven for kitties who find themselves between homes.

Most of our current residents have returned from foster care and are settling in nicely. Just a few more construction projects here and there, and a lot more feline occupants, and we’ll be back to business as usual.

Yesterday I worked my first regular shift in the new house, and I was happy to see the kitties were adapting quite well to their new territory. I, on the other hand, found it a little challenging to pick up with my normal routine. All the kitties were in the process of establishing new favorite spots, and I found I didn’t know where to locate anyone at any give moment. Much like the cats themselves probably did at first, I found myself wandering the whole house aimlessly for quite a while before settling in for some one-on-one cuddling.

I didn’t know where the buckets were, and I kept getting turned around every time I tried to find the kitchen. And when it came time to hunt down a pair of nail clippers, three of us embarked on a quest that turned out to be quite eventful—the highlight of the day, in fact.

A couple and their very excited five-year-old were in the office down on the first floor, filling out adoption papers for Sadie. We needed to clip Sadie’s toenails before sending her home, but no one seemed to know where the clippers were. All the meds, syringes and other supplies were in a small room off the kitchen on the second floor, as was a small silver tabby named Cherie—a sweet little mommy cat who’d just returned to the cottage and needed some space from the other cats. Paula, Michele and I discussed her situation as we searched for nail clippers in the not-quite-put-together room.

“How is she with other cats?” Paula asked Michele, who had fostered Cherie and her kittens for a short time. I was really concentrating on finding those clippers and didn’t listen very closely as Michele described Cherie’s interactions with the other cats in her house. The little thing was so sweet—how bad could she be?

Deciding the clippers simply weren’t in the room, I opened the door to go search the office. A curious black cat peeked into the room, and as I stuck out a foot to deter him from entering, all hell broke loose!

Cherie launched like a rocket through the door and crashed into the unsuspecting black cat, and the two crashed again into a trash can. Now a gray-and-black ball of fur and noise, the pair went back through the door and all the way around the little room. In a last desperate effort, the anonymous black cat ran right up the wall and tried to climb a window. Cherie was literally on his tail.

I wish I could describe the reactions of the three humans in the room, because it must have been remarkably hilarious. But in my panic and terror, I seemed to have tunnel vision—at least, that’s how I remember it now. Turning in circles to follow the path of the flying fur ball, I saw only the cats and an occasional snapshot of Michele and Paula shuffling around awkwardly and sticking their legs out in an effort to break up the cats. After the cats climbed the wall, they headed for the door again and Cherie slowed down enough to let the “intruder” escape before I desperately threw myself against the door, slamming it shut and successfully containing the ferocious tabby.

Speechless with shock, I leaned against the door to catch my breath. Michele was doubled over and laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, but I (for once) was not laughing…I just knew Paula was going to let me have when she regained her composure. Michele finally managed to get a breath and gasp “That’s how Cherie is with other cats.”

Paula couldn’t resist giving in to hysterical laughter, and after another couple of terrified seconds I gave in too. But I was still wary—my experience with felines told me the little beast might redirect her aggression to us humans if we made any sudden moves. But aside from the hairs on her back and tail standing straight out, Cherie was the picture of sweetness again, rubbing against our ankles and happily allowing us all to pet and hold her as if the eight-legged tornado had never struck.

We stayed in that room for a while, laughing and bewildered and trying to get up the nerve to open the door again. We eventually found the clippers (they were in the office all along) and sent Sadie home with her new family, and then we tried to recount the adventure over speakerphone to Dr. Judy. According to her, this was fairly normal behavior for a mother cat—and even though Cherie’s kittens were adopted out weeks ago, she was apparently still hardwired to be a protective mama. Rather than going on the defensive as a cat would normally do when it feels threatened, Cherie opted to proactively chase away any cat that walked by her room, not to mention set foot in it.

Poor Hosanna (later identified as the victim) made the mistake of running into Cherie’s room in an effort to escape her, and that was why the encounter had escalated to tornado status. Once he’d fled her territory, she saw no need to pursue him further. Fortunately, no fur flew and no blood was shed; Cherie meant business, but she didn’t mean any harm. She and Hosanna kept their eyes on that door for the rest of the day—Cherie with the eagerness of a chained pit bull, and Hosanna with a wide-eyed look of the hunted.

After all visitors had gone and things were quiet, Hosanna climbed into my lap and snuggled his face against my neck. I was able to look him over pretty closely to confirm he hadn’t been injured, and his sweet-natured purr told me he was ready to put the incident behind him.

And that, my friends, is the story of how one tiny tabby turned three grown women into a bunch of hysterical ninnies.