Total Cat Mojo

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street

  New York, New York 10014

  Copyright © 2017 by Jackson Galaxy

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  Illustration credits can be found here

  TarcherPerigee with tp colophon is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Names: Galaxy, Jackson, author.

  Title: Total cat mojo: the ultimate guide to life with your cat / Jackson

  Galaxy.

  Description: New York, New York: TarcherPerigee Book, [2017]

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017026753 (print) | LCCN 2017030305 (ebook) | ISBN

  9781524705268 | ISBN 9780143131618 (paperback)

  Subjects: LCSH: Cats. | Cats—Health. | BISAC: PETS / Cats / General. | PETS

  / Reference.

  Classification: LCC SF447 (ebook) | LCC SF447 .G23 2017 (print) | DDC

  636.8—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017026753

  Cover design: Jess Morphew

  Author photograph: Lori Fusaro

  Version_1

  This book is dedicated to Barry:

  Teacher, empath, healer, comic genius, exception to the rules

  First-time cat, full-time friend to all beings

  Loved and missed beyond comprehension or expression.

  May your travels through time bring you back to us.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Introduction: ¿Qué Es Mojo?

  SECTION ONE

  The History of the Mojo-fied World—From Raw Cat to Your Cat

  1. Who Is the Raw Cat?

  2. The Victorian Tipping Point

  SECTION TWO

  A Crash Course in Cats

  3. The Raw Cat Rhythm

  4. Communication: Cat Code Cracking

  5. The Mojo Archetypes and the Confident Where

  SECTION THREE

  The Cat Mojo Toolbox

  6. Welcome to the Toolbox

  7. Raw Cat 101 and the Three Rs

  8. Catification and Territory: Mojo-fying the Home Terrain

  9. The Art of Cat Parenting

  10. Cat/Animal Relationship Mojo: Introductions, Additions, and Ongoing Negotiations

  11. Cat/Human Relationship Mojo: Introductions, Communications, and Your Role in the Mojo

  12. Whose Line Is It Anyway? Cat Parenting and the Human Challenge Line

  SECTION FOUR

  The Cat Mojo Cookbook—Cat Daddy Solutions for Industrial Strength Issues

  13. When Excessive Scratching Becomes an Issue

  14. When Your Cats Don’t Get Along

  15. When Your Cat Is Biting or Scratching Humans

  16. When Your Cat Exhibits Annoying, Attention-Seeking Behaviors

  17. When Your Cat Exhibits “Anxiety-Related” Behaviors

  18. When Outside Cats Cause Trouble for Inside Cats

  19. When Your Cat Is a Wallflower

  20. When Your Cat Is Thinking Outside the (Litter)Box

  21. Eso Es Mojo

  Illustration Credits

  Index

  Acknowledgments

  I CLEARLY REMEMBER APPROACHING Mikel Delgado, a very busy person in her own right (working both as a private consultant and on completing her PhD), to help on my new book by saying that it was simply about curating and editing—just gather together all of what I’ve said, filmed, recorded, written, etc., about cats and their world through the years and put it in one place—really, how hard could that be? I spend my free time these days on a new hobby, finding new and novel ways to beg her forgiveness. Total Cat Mojo became a true labor of love and an all-consuming affair that spanned nearly eighteen months—and that affair was happening at the same time I was working on two different TV shows, getting the Jackson Galaxy Foundation through its nail-biting first year, and surviving a year of profound personal tragedies.

  Clearly, wrangling the Catzilla could never have been done alone. I’d like to acknowledge the following people, some of whom worked on the book, some who actively supported it, and some who just gave me the space to go stark-raving cat for a spell. As individuals, they remind me that devotion to animals is something worth working for, above and beyond what might be expected. And the sum of the parts became the glue in the binding and the ink on the page. “Thank you” will never be enough—but, hey, it’s a start:

  FIRST AND FOREMOST, to Team Cat Mojo—Mikel Delgado, Bobby Rock, and Jessica Marttila: One of the many lessons learned during this epic journey is that a vision takes you only to the foot of the mountain; belief, sheer will, and surrender to said mountain takes you the rest of the way. Together, we pushed our base camp slowly upward on the daily. Whether pulling all-nighters like college freshmen (while being rudely reminded physically and mentally that we are definitely not college freshmen anymore), poring over every word, every image, crafting an arc and refusing to let it crumble under the weight of time, the doubts of others, and my lofty ambitions (and sometimes logic)—no task was spared.

  Your unflinching willingness to go the distance trumped the quit that was ever the monster under my bed. It’s safe to say that you are the reason this ever saw the light of day. Your talents are formidable, your dedication to this vision humbling, and your passion for the animals we serve will stand the test of time.

  To Joy Tutela, from the beginning, you saw me not as crazy cat guy/musician/TV personality, but as a writer who you believed in, first and foremost. Four books later, I’m glad you (and David Black) still believe—especially after this doozy. For every moment you had to put out fires, prop up my depleted spirit, and offer reassurances that these are words that will help cats and their humans, I will keep my solemn promise: the next time I say, “I’ve got a book for you,” you can first take a Louisville Slugger to my kneecaps. And then we’ll do it again . . . right?

  To the team at TarcherPerigee and Penguin Random House—Joanna Ng, Brianna Yamashita, Sabrina Bowers, and Katy Riegel: from introduction to conclusion, the amazing design work and the way in which the world learns about Cat Mojo—I’m always honored to put my words in your hands. To Sara Carder—I know this was a nail-biter and a true test for us both. Thank you for standing by me, as you’ve always done.

  To our wonderful team of artists spread around the globe—Osnat Feitelson, Emi Lenox, Franzi Paetzold, Sayako Itoh, Omaka Schultz, Brandon Page, Kyle Puttkammer, and Scott Bradley. Thank you for taking the plunge and putting your individual gifts on display to create a coherent, collective portrait of our cat Mojo and his Mojo-fied world.

  To Lori Fusaro, your photos have always captured our lives at their most vulnerable and our relationships with our animals at their most precious. No matter how many times I see it, your photo of Velouria and me will remain a testament to a lasting love long after we both are gone. I haven’t the words to thank you enough.

  To Minoo, for what you always have been, the love of this and many lives, the guardian of my heart and sanity, believer and partner in a shared mission and for standing by me even when I’m not there. Also . . . the bat I’m giving Joy? The next time I say I want to write a book, yo
u get a few swings, too.

  To my brother Marc, for coming onboard in a time of unimaginable loss to steer the Good Ship Mojo—just in time to survive some thirty-odd rogue waves. My gratitude for lashing yourself to the deck while continuing to chart a course, and my love for believing in me and protecting me from the storm.

  To my animal family—Mooshka, Audrey, Pasha, Velouria, Caroline, Pishi, Lily, Gabby, Sammy, Eddie, Ernie, Oliver, Sophie (not in any order, kids!), for a daily reminder of why we do it and for the daily dose of pure love that fills my tank.

  To my father and my entire extended human family, thank you for loving me in my seemingly never-ending absence. The light you never fail to send is the soft landing I always feel.

  To Stephanie Rasband, for keeping me right-sized and right here, right now.

  To RDJ and The Fam, for reminding me that the steering wheel is not mine and for loving me, the helpless and wild-eyed passenger.

  To my Discovery/Animal Planet family, for your continued support and desire to put a megaphone to the mojo, my continued, heartfelt thanks.

  To Sandy Monterose, Christie Rogero, and our growing team of staff and volunteers at the Jackson Galaxy Foundation, for your dedication to bring the mojo to every cat who needs it and every human who needs and helps that cat.

  To Ivo Fischer, Carolyn Conrad, Josephine Tan, and their teams at WME Entertainment, Schreck, Rose, Dapello & Adams, and Tan Management, for, as always, keeping the wheels on and the barbarians from the gates.

  To Siena Lee-Tajiri and Toast Tajiri, for who you are and what you’ve always brought to our company, our vision, and to me.

  Additional thanks to the wonderful and expanding team at Jackson Galaxy Enterprises, for your enthusiasm for and commitment to the mojo vision; to Susie Kaufman, for her transcriptionary brilliance; and to Julie Hecht, for her thoughtful, dog-centric feedback.

  THE FIRST THING I usually do at this very moment is to call my mom and read this list to her. Whether something done out of habit or superstition, even if I know it is complete and ready to be submitted, the book is unfinished without her explicit seal of approval (always given) and the added bonus of asking me if I realize how lucky I am and telling me that I deserve all of these wonderful people surrounding me.

  Yes, I am learning—that you are always there if I listen, that the universe lovingly provides, and that I should be grateful for that. I’m learning how to cope with your physical loss. Learning how to keep my heart from breaking day after day. But these lessons won’t be learned tonight, and my book will just remain eternally unfinished. And I’ll learn to be okay with that, too.

  I miss you, love you, and thank you for everything I am.

  Introduction

  ¿Que Es Mojo?

  I AM IN FRONT of a large and very enthusiastic audience in Buenos Aires, while on a tour of Latin America. Over the course of the year, I’ve adjusted to speaking with a translator in places like Malaysia and Indonesia, and I had just been in Bogotá and Mexico City. If you can have simultaneous translation, with the audience wearing headphones, it is a blessing beyond belief, because the audience is with you—the laughing, gasping, and applauding happens (one hopes) just a second or three later than with an English-speaking crowd. In the big scheme of things, it’s a minor inconvenience.

  But, when you and your translator switch off (you finish a full thought before he begins), well . . . it’s just a massive headache at best, an absolute kamikaze mission at worst. My translator would stand next to me, a ghost dodging my physical outbursts and stream-of-consciousness rants. The more excited I get, however, the less I remember to heed the presence or the needs of my “ghost.” Some translators, the ones who pride themselves as practitioners of a linguistic art form, allow me to get an entire paragraph out of my mouth before tapping me on the shoulder or giving me that sideways glance, in order to succinctly and with equal fervor catch the audience up.

  On this night in Buenos Aires, my translator isn’t that person. She is actually a newscaster who happens to be bilingual. It is not the most graceful dance, that’s for sure. There is much in the way of toe stepping on both of our parts.

  Improvisation aside, I always introduce the concept of Cat Mojo early in the show. It’s the linchpin of my entire presentational spiel. That introduction, on this night, is firing on all cylinders; I’m feeling it for sure, as I attempt to occupy the space between cat guy and Pentecostal revivalist. I’m breathlessly demonstrating what a Mojo-fied cat looks like, shamelessly preening, modeling the tail and ear postures, the overall gait of confidence. This all culminates at that moment when I say, “And what do we call this? Man, we call this Cat Mojo. Your cat. Has . . . MOJO.” I allow that statement to reverberate. And it reverberates for entirely too long, going from a drama-filled beat to an awkward silence. I give my translator that sideways glance. Nothing comes out of her mouth, and her eyes betray a slight panic.

  At once, she allows her newscasterly character to fall away. She leans in close to me and whispers, “Qué es mojo?” And I respond, in hindsight maybe a bit too loud, “What do you mean, ‘What is mojo?’ You don’t know what mojo means?” We’re having a conversation on this stage, and with every passing reverberant second, I’m losing my grip on this audience. Incredulous, I turn to them with equal measures of validation seeking and creeping dread, and say in full sideshow-barker voice, “Hey, folks, you know what mojo means, right? ‘You’ve got your mojo on,’ ‘You’ve got your mojo workin’.’ How many people here know what the word ‘mojo’ means?”

  Cue the crickets. That feeling of creeping dread is now a full-on, flop-sweat-inducing nightmare. For the first time since I was twelve years old, holding a guitar with a broken string at a YMCA talent show, I am about to flame out before a live audience, and I couldn’t think of a single way out of it.

  I THINK BACK to 2002, when I was sitting at my desk in Boulder, Colorado. The desk consisted of a big chunk of particleboard resting on two sawhorses. I was inspired at the time to turn what I knew into a manifesto of sorts—well, less inspired and more motivated. After a few years as an independent behavior consultant, I found myself trying entirely too hard to boil my knowledge base about all cats down to a relatable info-nugget for my clients, so we could more readily get to the part where they apply that knowledge to getting to know their cats. As is the case today, but much more so back then, cats are dismissed as being inscrutable—so far outside the behavioral and experiential realm of humans that we have no anchor point to hang a relationship on. I was determined to find that hook.

  Finding the hook was not about convenience, either. Remember, I had worked for ten years in an animal shelter and was more than a little invested. Far too many cats—millions a year—were (and still are) being killed in these shelters. Time and time again I would witness a question mark–shaped barrier of communication becoming a barbed-wire fence that led to the fracturing of very tender and tenuous relationships. It was the “mystery” of cats’ behavior—their inscrutable nature being fed through the human gumball machine called ego and emerging as a perceived insult—that compelled those frustrated humans to surrender them to the shelter or even turn them loose into the street. I was trying to, at the very least, take the barbed wire off the fence, so that the human and the animal could meet there safely and begin the process of deepening, instead of destroying, their bond.

  One hook that I had already started employing with my students and clients was the concept of “the Raw Cat”—the idea that the cat in your lap is, in an evolutionary way, millimeters removed from his ancestors (more on this in chapter 1). The Raw Cat represents the innate drives that have influenced cat behavior for the entire time cats have roamed the planet: the need to hunt, the realization that they are in the middle of the food chain, and the need to own and protect their territory.

  As such, I came to believe that many, if not most, of the problems that my cat clients were experi
encing (with the exception of undiagnosed physical issues), could be boiled down to territorial anxiety. The Raw Cat, content most of the time to stay in a place in the back of your cat’s mind, comes screaming to the fore when confronted with a threat to territorial security. Whether that threat is real or perceived matters little. The fact is, if they feel it, they will almost have to act upon it. It’s not enough to address the symptoms that become hair-pulling annoyances to us. Rather, we must find the opposite of that anxiety and coax that Raw Cat quality out to the point where it dominates and eventually extinguishes the anxiety.

  Back to my makeshift desk: It was very late at night, and I was trying to push through that insistent, hallucinogenic moment when sleep would come whether I liked it or not. The risk of going face-first into the keyboard was fifty-fifty at best. I would type, realize I was in zombie mode, go back over it, erase almost everything, and start again.

  I was about to pass out, so I got to my feet and started to concentrate on what confidence looks like instead of trying to explain it. Pacing my office, I decided that it was a strut. It was tail up in the backward question mark position, ears relaxed, eyes not dilated, whiskers neutral. No threat in sight, no fight-or-flight mechanism enacted. Neither the weaponry nor radar was needed. No need to take the feline alert system to DEFCON 1 and unlock the box that had the red button in it, because there was a deep, abiding sense that all was well in the world. This strut was not artificial in any way; it was not a product of how cats want the world to perceive them. In other words, it didn’t come from a place of cockiness. It was confidence that could only come from a deep sense of knowing that they own their place in the world. They could go about their day without eyes in the back of their heads, without wondering whether what they owned would be ripped from underneath them. This instinct was so grounded that it was beyond skeletal. It was coming from the vibration of history—a quantum communication—connecting cats to each other through the ages. The hook I was searching for, the thing I wanted humans to relate to, was what it felt like to experience the essence of confident ownership of territory.