Yogi was a shrinking violet, a deep thinker, a wallflower, a survivor, and a secret footballer. And like a typical cat, she lived life on her own terms. Her journey began sixteen years ago, when she was rescued by actor and animal activist Amala Akkineni who was in Chennai visiting the Yoga Mandiram (hence the name Yogi). Akkineni noticed the miniscule kitten and got in touch with Devika Khazvini, who founded the Cattitude Trust, hoping to find the scrawny feline a home.
“She was so timid,” recalls Khazvini, who discovered that Yogi was unlike other cats who became fearless after their rescue. Khazvini decided to adopt Yogi herself, rather than put her through the stress of adjusting to a new place. “She never came out of that shell. We got used to her shy and retiring ways. She would sidle up to us on the sofa and ask to be petted, but if you looked like you were getting up, she would dash off!” The reticent cat did find small ways to let her owners know where they stood. Khazvini, her husband, and son would often wake up to find Yogi lying peacefully in one of their laps, and were always treated to a slow blink of her eyes as a tacit acknowledgement of love from across the room. And once, they were startled awake by squeaky sounds, and were elated to find the young cat batting around her ball all by herself in the dead of the night. In the meantime, Khazvini’s other rescued cat Pokie took the newbie under his wing, and made her a quiet, but trustworthy sidekick. Yogi had found her place, even if she’d never tell her owners where it was.
At the age of fifteen, Yogi was diagnosed with chronic renal failure. “It was heartbreaking,” says Khazvini, who administered her subcutaneous fluids under the guidance of a vet. She observes that people sometimes panic when their pets grow old or get sick and toy with the idea of giving them away but that they must look to their animals for guidance instead, and let them live out their lives in the place they call home. “We think too much. Cats are far more natural about it – they are not afraid of death. Animals are so comfortable with the transition,” she says. Yogi moved into Khazvini’s room on her own, and passed away shortly afterwards. When the family brought her body home from the vet for the burial, a distraught Pokie went from room to room and cried for her silent best friend.
“What can I say? Yogi wasn't just a pet and a family member: she was the embodiment of sweetness and patience,” says Khazvini of the whiskered philosopher who'd shown everyone that it's all about savouring the little joys, and not taking ourselves too seriously. She believes that while death hurts for a long time, one day, it will be warm – and not painful – to remember. “But you never stop longing to stroke that fur again. Our cats live in us forever… they become our children.”
