Cat Dancing

Two of our three cats dance.  Nairobi, tailless and with only three legs, does not.  I've tried to explain to her that it doesn't matter that she has only three legs and no tail, she can still dance but she doesn't feel comfortable and begs off. 

Matisse, neurotic, self-absorbed with OCD tendencies, is the best dancer.  He lets me lead, relaxes into my arms and just trusts that I won't step on his paws or make him look bad.  Perhaps he knows that as his hind paws are against my ribs it is impossible for me to step on them.  Perhaps he just likes the closeness or perhaps dancing is a form of cat meditation.  When he's dancing he can just BE in the here and now and doesn't have to keep checking on our whereabouts or that the rooms are as he left  them, or that the other cats aren't enacting plots against him.  Besides his dancing prowess, his size and solidity make for a satisfying dancing partner.  Mataisse has Substance at the same time as he is fluid and graceful in my arms.  His purring is a pleasant counterpoint to the music. 

Our dances aren't planned.  Something comes on the radio and I need to dance.  Often it's just me leaping and shaking and twirling about like a mad thing.  At 57 perhaps I should be past the need to dance.  Certainly if anyone saw me I would be mortified but the cats don't mind and the house on 10 acres is far enough from neighbours to keep the sound of reverberating floor boards local.  A dance that requires partnering is usually a song from the Age of Crooners; a Bing an Astaire a Martin or a Cole communicate directly to me feet.  If a song comes on and I'm alone in the house I find Matisse, swing him into my arms, front paws on either side of my neck, and away we go.  He especially likes twirls.  Twirl one way and his head pushes into my neck, twirl the other and he looks with amazement at the swirling walls. 

It is always polite, after the dance, to thank the cat and smooth his fur which can get a little ruffled and moist from gripping fingers and sweaty palms.  Always polite too not to dance too long.  Sometimes another cat wants a go, sometimes I suspect they can get a little dizzy (although Matisse loves being spun on a lazy susan chair).  Of course there are those times when they just aren't in the mood.  Even Matisse has days where dancing is just not on.  I pick him up and he doesn't relax.  He doesn't fight.  He is never rude or impolite, he just makes himself stiff and awkward.  It is best then to immediately place him back where he was, thank him and move on.  That is if I want a dancing partner another day.  The beauty of the dance cannot be forced. 

Whether Natalia, our newest addition, becomes a dancer remains to be seen.   We have danced but I keep the partnering very short and sweet.  Cat dancing is something which takes time to do well.  It is alien to a cat to be spun about 5 feet above ground.  It takes trust and a willingness to feel clunky and awkward while the steps are learned.  Natalia however purrs with gusto and although she tries to lead and hasn't mastered the movement in stillness or the stillness in movement I suspect she will be a terrific cat dancer.