I had watered the plants before I did my practice in the sun, and the one-eyed tom cat slipped under the fence and lapped at the puddle where I’d dragged the hose across the flagstones to water the pomegranates. Part of his tail was missing as well as one of his eyes. I was surprised to see him stay so long. Strangely, he wasn’t timid like he used to be. While I did my yoga practice, paying close attention to my alignment, to my breath, to my presence in the moment, he came closer, stood nearby, and meowed relentlessly. I realized that he, like other cats I’ve known, wanted to be part of this.
I once taught at a yoga studio that had resident cats. During my personal practice there, the one named Shakti would participate in any pose in which she could place herself with a gentle leap onto my body. Without ever using her claws, she would get on the thigh of my front leg in warrior one or on my back while I was in child’s pose, a warm breathing sandbag. When I was in a pose in which she couldn’t participate, she would meow pitifully until she could make contact with me again. (She inspired the scene in Death Omen where Gasser joins Jamie in yoga.)
Another cat with whom I did yoga belonged to my landlords next door when I rented a little house out in the country in Bertie County, North Carolina. (For people who like trivia about my books, the place I rented is Yolanda’s house in Shadow Family, the old one-room schoolhouse.) Fluffy, a long-haired calico, used to come to the porch for yoga. I think cats are drawn to the positive energy, to a human who is serene and grounded and stretching.
One-eyed Tom kept looking at me with his one eye. I tried not to look at the other, thinking, what happened? Don’t your people take care of you? The neighbors had been feeding him, but had they taken him to the vet, done anything for him? I wanted so much to pet him, but I’d read about a man in England who got some horrible rare disease from petting an unfamiliar cat on the street, and after that I vowed that I would stop petting the friendly, half-feral cats that roam T or C.
One-eyed Tom stared. He mewed and coiled to jump up on the chair that I was using as a prop. But I moved just enough to discourage him. He stuck around, though. When I finished my practice, he settled down in the cat loaf position in the sun and did his savasana while I did mine.
I looked at him more closely when I sat up. His face didn’t have the big tom cat look anymore, and his injured eye was no longer leaking and oozing. It was just gone. I think he’s been to the vet finally, and that his people who feed him tamed him enough to care of him. I owed him an apology. Should he try again, I’ll let him join more fully in my yoga.
Amber Foxx Mysteries 