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We have many varieties of pound pets in our household, for which I willingly provide comfort, care and crunchies.
I accept that. I expect that.
What I didn't expect was to provide our cat with exercise by virtue of any domestic animal's most hated instrument of torture: The vacuum cleaner.
The cat's name is Loralei, taken from the popular WB show, “The Gilmore Girls.” Veteran cat lovers know how fun it is to yodel these highbrow names into the great outdoors, knowing the cat will ignore us, possibly deigning to respond when we finally scream in frustration, “Heeeeeeerre kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty — kitty — get your furry carcass in here!”
We adopted Loralei from the pound several years back because my daughter left me notes in every conceivable place — I do believe I found one in my bra — making one simple request.
“I want a cat.” “Cat” written with a backward “a” and “want” with an “h.”
We all have a breaking point, and mine was when I was finding more “I want a cat” notes in the cushions than change. It was time to do what any strong, structured parent would do. I caved and got the kid a cat.
Our three dogs would just have to cope.
The cat wasn't home for 24 hours when the scratch she laid on my arm let me know how opposed to vacuuming she really was. To my animals' dismay, I vacuum daily. It has allowed me to devise the “Here Are Your Options”™ cat exercise program that will be, no doubt, sweeping the nation.
The exercise program begins by making a great deal of noise as you methodically remove the vacuum cleaner from its very specific, specially designed storage area. May I suggest our own unique and easy location — just inside the front door,
where everyone in the family is guaranteed to trip over it 24/7.
The next step is to provide an anticipatory set, as we say in the teaching biz, by introducing the game plan to the feline. Engage your kitty by asking her firmly, but respectfully, “Would you like to go outside?” “You staying or going?” is a good starting point for this questioning technique.
El gato, being a highly intelligent animal upon whom every nuance is imprinted, is easily distracted; one false move could get the feline off her game. Focus is important.
Thus, you must then firmly tell the cat which room you're going into first, so she can immediately dart right in there, commencing with her pre-exercise kitty cardio warm-up. Once you begin the hoovering, as they say in Britain, you must persevere until the finish, otherwise your kitty will prematurely and unhealthily end the work-out before the cool down, which consists of the winding up of the cord — but we'll get to that.
As you casually remove the instrument of torture from the hallway, note it's normal for the furry princess to pretend not to notice what is about to transpire. Slowly and methodically hoover in, around, and out of each room, lovingly reassuring the cat, “Everything is fine. What is with you? Have I sucked you up yet? Where do you think you' re going now?”
Meanwhile, your cat gallops from surface to surface, just in front of the machine, making tracks through each and every blessed room. Ah, but where would the fun or exercise be if she would have taken advantage of her earlier option to bolt into the great outdoors?
You now are ready for the final phase of the program, the cool down. This is crucial, although one often is tempted to shave off these precious seconds to quickly transition to the next task household goddesses everywhere welcome — throwing away any food in the kitchen that predates the purchase of the house.
But be aware the cool down sees a great deal of kitty upper-body work as she attempts to “help you” with a one-two boxing motion with her nondeclawed mitts as you wind up the cord.
It's to be expected you will be as winded as your cat, who will now run to the door, wanting out, to which you should respond in a loving, caring and compassionate way, “Oh, sure, now you want to go outside. Good timing. That's gratitude for ‘ya.
Well, go ahead!” as she feels the door closing on her hindquarters.
Your cat will exit much more fit than she would have been, say, if you had hardwood floors or enough money for a housecleaning service. Additionally, you possess the personal satisfaction of knowing you've provided a valuable service.
(Diane Dean-Epps is a published author, comedienne and Nevada Union High School English teacher. She can be reached at mswrite10@ yahoo.com or DianeDeanEpps.com.)
I accept that. I expect that.
What I didn't expect was to provide our cat with exercise by virtue of any domestic animal's most hated instrument of torture: The vacuum cleaner.
The cat's name is Loralei, taken from the popular WB show, “The Gilmore Girls.” Veteran cat lovers know how fun it is to yodel these highbrow names into the great outdoors, knowing the cat will ignore us, possibly deigning to respond when we finally scream in frustration, “Heeeeeeerre kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty — kitty — get your furry carcass in here!”
We adopted Loralei from the pound several years back because my daughter left me notes in every conceivable place — I do believe I found one in my bra — making one simple request.
“I want a cat.” “Cat” written with a backward “a” and “want” with an “h.”
We all have a breaking point, and mine was when I was finding more “I want a cat” notes in the cushions than change. It was time to do what any strong, structured parent would do. I caved and got the kid a cat.
Our three dogs would just have to cope.
The cat wasn't home for 24 hours when the scratch she laid on my arm let me know how opposed to vacuuming she really was. To my animals' dismay, I vacuum daily. It has allowed me to devise the “Here Are Your Options”™ cat exercise program that will be, no doubt, sweeping the nation.
The exercise program begins by making a great deal of noise as you methodically remove the vacuum cleaner from its very specific, specially designed storage area. May I suggest our own unique and easy location — just inside the front door,
where everyone in the family is guaranteed to trip over it 24/7.
The next step is to provide an anticipatory set, as we say in the teaching biz, by introducing the game plan to the feline. Engage your kitty by asking her firmly, but respectfully, “Would you like to go outside?” “You staying or going?” is a good starting point for this questioning technique.
El gato, being a highly intelligent animal upon whom every nuance is imprinted, is easily distracted; one false move could get the feline off her game. Focus is important.
Thus, you must then firmly tell the cat which room you're going into first, so she can immediately dart right in there, commencing with her pre-exercise kitty cardio warm-up. Once you begin the hoovering, as they say in Britain, you must persevere until the finish, otherwise your kitty will prematurely and unhealthily end the work-out before the cool down, which consists of the winding up of the cord — but we'll get to that.
As you casually remove the instrument of torture from the hallway, note it's normal for the furry princess to pretend not to notice what is about to transpire. Slowly and methodically hoover in, around, and out of each room, lovingly reassuring the cat, “Everything is fine. What is with you? Have I sucked you up yet? Where do you think you' re going now?”
Meanwhile, your cat gallops from surface to surface, just in front of the machine, making tracks through each and every blessed room. Ah, but where would the fun or exercise be if she would have taken advantage of her earlier option to bolt into the great outdoors?
You now are ready for the final phase of the program, the cool down. This is crucial, although one often is tempted to shave off these precious seconds to quickly transition to the next task household goddesses everywhere welcome — throwing away any food in the kitchen that predates the purchase of the house.
But be aware the cool down sees a great deal of kitty upper-body work as she attempts to “help you” with a one-two boxing motion with her nondeclawed mitts as you wind up the cord.
It's to be expected you will be as winded as your cat, who will now run to the door, wanting out, to which you should respond in a loving, caring and compassionate way, “Oh, sure, now you want to go outside. Good timing. That's gratitude for ‘ya.
Well, go ahead!” as she feels the door closing on her hindquarters.
Your cat will exit much more fit than she would have been, say, if you had hardwood floors or enough money for a housecleaning service. Additionally, you possess the personal satisfaction of knowing you've provided a valuable service.
(Diane Dean-Epps is a published author, comedienne and Nevada Union High School English teacher. She can be reached at mswrite10@ yahoo.com or DianeDeanEpps.com.)
