The Real Ones Running This Practice
Yes, I work from home. And yes, there are two cats have unofficial co-therapist status. I call them "the interns" because it's funnier than the truth, which is that they outrank me.
Agnes, Tuxedo, Tripod, Absolutely In Charge
Agnes is eleven, missing a back leg, and has never once let that slow down her ability to run this household. She's the matriarch, sweet, but make no mistake, she's the boss, and she knows it. I have paused sessions mid-sentence because Agnes has decided, unilaterally, that it's time for kisses. She gets them. Then we continue.
She's also slowing down a little these days, the arthritis that comes with being a senior tripod cat, which has made her a bit more willing to nap through a session instead of supervising it directly. Doesn't mean she's lost her edge. She was a notorious thief in her younger years (ask me about the slipper incident sometime), and she's still sassy, still salty, still fully convinced everyone in this house works for her. She's not wrong.
We share a birthday, actually, I found out signing her adoption papers and lost it a little. Some things are just meant to happen. And honestly, she's a decent model for the work we do here: she knows exactly what she wants, she asks for it directly, and she'll set a boundary with you the second she needs one. I try to demonstrate that same thing in session, sometimes with an assist from an eleven-year-old cat who will not be ignored.
Lulu, Not Entirely Of This Realm
Lulu turns five soon, and I'm still not convinced she exists in the same reality as the rest of us. We don't know where she came from. We're not sure where she goes half the time. She's part unholy terror, part absolute angel, and she alternates between the two with zero warning and no explanation owed to anyone.
She also has, objectively, the most beautiful face you will ever see on a cat, if she decides to let you see it. That's the deal with Lulu: you don't get her, she occasionally grants you an audience.
Every so often, you'll catch her locked in a staring contest with the wall behind my workspace fully communing with whatever alternate dimension she can apparently see back there. We don't question it. We just let her have it. Honestly, that's the whole practice philosophy in miniature: we meet people, and cats, exactly where they are, wall-ternate dimensions included.
What Happens In Session Stays In Session (The Girls Included)
The privacy of our sessions matters to me as much as anything else about how I practice. Agnes and Lulu are good about that, too, whatever they hear stays between them and me. What they discuss with each other afterward is honestly none of my business, and there's not much I can do to stop it anyway. So if you ever hear a little commotion in the background during a session, that's not a confidentiality breach, that's just the girls getting sassy with each other. Some rumbling is normal around here.
