Feline fine
What my cat has taught me about living a yogic life. By Meg Jackson
Almost exactly a year ago we got a cat. Actually, that’s not true. Almost a year ago a cat chose us as adequate humans, allowed us to feed her for a while, and decided to move in.
From being a homeless, scrawny ginger tabby, with infected ears, and permanently exhausted as a result of living on the streets, Hari has definitely grown into her role as the focal-point of our little family. (Albeit a focal-point that is slightly podgier, still with troublesome ears, and thanks to a more nurtured lifestyle now only sleeps 23 hours a day…)
As well as spending a lot of my day gazing lovingly at her, texting my partner photographs of her looking cute, and kidding myself that she loves me for more than my residual body heat on a chilly day, I’ve come to notice that her way of life actually has quite a lot I could learn from.
(A little disclaimer to begin: Of course, I realise I am making assumptions about what is going on in my little feline friend’s head and yes there could be a bit of anthropomorphism going on, but if her actions make me contemplate my own, that’s got to be a good thing – right?)