You CAN Train Your Cat: Secrets of a Master Cat Trainer

Introduction

Since each of us is blessed with only one life, why not live it with a cat?

—ROBERT STEARNS

When I first laid eyes on a beautiful white longhair kitten in an animal shelter in Las Vegas, I never could have imagined what destiny lay in store for each of us …

I had gone to the shelter on the advice of a friend, who knew I wanted to find a pet to complete my new household. I had been hired to work as a juggler and clown in my own act on the Midway at the Circus Circus Hotel and Casino. I’d moved my wife, Izolda, and our young daughter, Anastasia, to Las Vegas. What better way to start our life together in our new city, to help us settle into our new home, than to add a little furry friend? But when I’d gone to a pet store to buy a cat, the price was so steep I couldn’t afford it!

That’s when my friend told me that in America, strays and unwanted pets are placed for adoption in shelters. This was a concept foreign to my Ukrainian mind. How very American, 053-41510_ch01_3P.indd 1 8/12/09 2:19:15 PM I thought. This country of consumers has stores where you can buy animals for pets … but just in case you don’t want the pets anymore, there also are places where you can dispose of them! At the shelter, I passed by rows and rows of cages holding sullen or forlorn dogs and cats, some of them surely abandoned by previous owners. My heart swelled with pity. Then I caught my breath and stood still. In front of me, behind the cage wire, sat a cat of about a year old with magnificent white fur.

I was glad to rescue Snow (as we named her) from the shelter and a likely premature end. She turned out to be the perfect choice: We three Popoviches were delighted with how playful our kitty turned out to be. Snow kept us constantly entertained by stalking and pouncing on whatever little object moved within her line of sight. What’s more—to our great amusement—she habitually chased her tail, like a puppy.

As I marveled at this silly quirk of our new family member, a lightbulb flashed in my showman’s mind. While I was a world-champion juggler, I was but a novice clown, and less confident in that part of my act. What if I brought the energetic Snow on stage with me to use as a backup gag to get the audience laughing—just in case my clown shenanigans did not go over? My notion was to bring Snow on stage hidden in one of my bags. During my jester antics I’d reach for the bag, unfasten its top—and my frisky friend would leap out! She’d scamper about, pursuing her tail, and I’d clutch my head like a fool over having opened the wrong bag.

Well, not every show-biz idea works out. Fortunately for me, Snow’s escapades proved to be a big winner. She cracked up the audience every time. The people who came to watch circus acts on the Midway loved the surprise of seeing this gorgeous little animal pop out from her bag and race around on stage. I didn’t mind being upstaged at all. I was very proud of her. To my relief, Snow didn’t mind the roar of people laughing and clapping, nor the blazing stage lights.

Frankly, the crowd’s reaction should have been no surprise to me. Most of us have a soft spot in our hearts for cats and dogs. Before long, I fell under the spell of a much bolder idea …

AT THIS POINT I should tell you that I already was well accustomed to caring for pets, being a fourth-generation circus performer and the son of animal trainers. I was born in 1963 in the Soviet Union—in the city of Kiev, in what now is known only as the country of Ukraine. I grew up in the circus world. My mother and father, Alexei and Tamara, were jugglers and performers who worked with dogs on stage. Their act was a part of the Great Moscow Circus. From an early age, I was given tasks of feeding and looking after the dogs in my parents’ act. I liked playing with the animals, but also knew that caring for them was a great responsibility. From close, intimate contact I learned to understand them as well as enjoy their company. Frankly, these dogs and I formed a tight bond, and I gained a respect for domestic animals that would last a lifetime.

At age 5 I began assisting my mother on stage with her trained dogs. The next year my father began teaching me the art of juggling, and at 12 I became a professional, performing with a small circus. By 14 I had my first solo act—juggling while balancing on a freestanding ladder. My father continued as my stalwart coach, and at age 16 I hit the big time: joining the Great Moscow Circus. I was very driven to succeed. My skills progressed through endless, rigorous rehearsing and performing, and I eventually became a key attraction in the Moscow circus and its representative in international competitions. I captured a number of prestigious juggling crowns. Craving new challenges, I also trained as an acrobat and clown, and completed a five-year course to earn a degree as a circus creator and producer. As a sideline, I appeared in a starring role in three Russian movies.

In 1991, I became the first person from the former Soviet Union to perform with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. This meant moving to America and learning English. I burned to impress American audiences, and pushed myself very hard. In one stunt I balanced on a nine-foot-tall freestanding ladder while juggling nine rings—in the process, setting a world record. The next year my juggling act was hired by Circus Circus in Las Vegas, where my wife and I performed in a lineup of circus acts.

Well, Snow—as I’ve mentioned—proved to be a big hit in my clown routine, and so I quickly embarked on a much grander scheme for my show: creating a full-scale feature based around cat tricks. Now, I considered that training domestic cats would be extremely difficult, and perhaps even impossible, given their famously independent streak that knows no rival in the world of domestic animals. But that would be to my advantage, too, since no one else had thought of (or dared) to train housecats.

Soon I had adopted a few more cats from the shelter and set them up in comfort at my home. I’d chosen them for their outgoing personalities in the shelter, and their young ages. None was older than 1 year. Slowly I began rehearsing with them. As expected, this was no easy task. Patience quickly became my operative word. A domestic cat cannot be taught to do what it doesn’t want to do. Some cats naturally like to jump; others are climbers; others still are prone to walking around their owner’s legs. But a climber would not feel like playing a game of pouncing from one point to the next, just as a jumper wouldn’t show any interest in shimmying up a pole just for a reward of kind words from its master.

Felix and Pusha performing a trick.

I carefully studied each cat in turn for a lengthy period to understand its character. Then I set about playing with it. If it was a jumper (like Snow) prone to tracking and tackling a piece of yarn, that was our trick, and I slowly trained the cat to hop from one stool to another, then through a hoop. If the cat was a walker, I coaxed it to amble along a thin rope between two ladders. Ten minutes was the maximum of daily rehearsal per cat. And even ten minutes was too long for one session. I broke the sessions into five minutes each—played once in the morning, and once in the evening.

Once I’d found the right game for a cat, it took to it with great enjoyment. As the weeks went by I gradually increased the lighting and sound in the training room until the cat would feel comfortable performing on stage in front of an audience. After interminable rehearsals with each cat, I brought my newly organized cast of furry performers to Circus Circus in an act I christened, Cat Skills.

Performing three times a day, six days a week, the cats proved their worthiness as entertainers. To be sure, there were times when I’d look into a cat’s eyes and see it had no interest at that moment in responding to my cues. So be it! Even human performers display attitude from time to time. With a cat, though, there would be no use in attempting to change its mind at that moment and rousing it into action. And so I’d move on to another cat that was sitting on its perch, waiting for its turn to play a little game with its master. I had been in show business long enough to appreciate the necessity of backup plans. This is one reason why I brought multiple cats on stage. But the happy news was that most cats did respond on cue on stage. And the even happier news was that children of all ages—meaning adults, too—responded with delight to the animal antics.

I knew my Cat Skills act was on its way to being a hit.

AS WORD SPREAD ABOUT my show, I began attracting national media attention. I scored a feature article in People magazine. My cats and I appeared twice on The Tonight Show. In America, people generally are fond of their pets—and always eager to applaud them when they do wild or crazy stunts. And I offered stunts that truly were original. A cat pushing a dog in a baby carriage. A dog in a classroom solving a math problem and another erasing a chalkboard. (Yes, I eventually added dogs—also rescued from shelters—to my show.)

I took my act on tour around the world, settled for a time in Branson, Missouri, where I performed Comedy Pet Theater at the Magical Palace, and returned to Vegas in 2005. The next year I debuted The World Famous Popovich Comedy Pet Theater at the V Theater in the Aladdin Resort and Casino, on the Las Vegas Strip. The V Theater, in the Miracle Mile mall, now is part of Planet Hollywood Resort & Casino. My afternoon show plays there daily. I’ve added geese and doves, white mice and ferrets. The place usually is packed. And while all the troupe members—including my wife, daughter and I, and several clowns and acrobats—receive our fair share of applause, the cats seem to garner the loudest clapping and cheers.

Sometimes I get a feeling they relish this status.

ALTHOUGH I AM A professional entertainer and my pets work on stage, they are still pets, and treated as part of my family. All the animals in my trained menagerie are well cared for at the Popovich residence. They are loved and pampered. They are provided a comfortable environment, healthy food, playtime and toys, and regular veterinary checkups.

Even after all these years—meaning, my whole life—living or working with cats, I still treasure the moments of connection with these dear creatures that share my daily life. There is an ancient bond between humans and pets. It is undeniable that our species reaps much in the way of emotional rewards—joy and satisfaction, companionship and affection—in return for providing protection, sustenance, and comfort to our furry friends. They’ve certainly taught me more than I’ve taught them.

Because I have absorbed a great amount of knowledge about how to get along with cats, I finally felt compelled to write the book you are reading now. In the following chapters I am sharing not only basic information that is vital knowledge for being a happy cat owner, but also insights I believe you will find nowhere else.

Like any family member, your pet cat can prove challenging to live with. You must establish rules to maintain a harmonious relationship. Fortunately, there are no problems without solutions. You can teach your cat not to claw the sofa—or you! You can train it not to rouse you from slumber. With practice, you can learn to communicate quite fluently with your cat.

In the chapters that follow, I will share with you the secrets I’ve learned about keeping both owner and cat happy. In Part I, I’ll discuss the critical period of welcoming a new cat into the household and laying the groundwork for a strong, fulfilling relationship. In Part II, I’ll discuss problems that may arise and training techniques to help maintain a healthy relationship with your cat. And in Part III, I’ll offer more advanced cat-training secrets that I’ve learned from working so closely with cats for a great many years.

None of the lessons I share are difficult to absorb, and not all of them will apply to your particular situation. For example, if you don’t move to a new home, you won’t need to know how to help your cat adjust to strange new surroundings. Or perhaps you won’t be traveling with your cat. Or intending to train it to do tricks.

Well, all I can say is that one never knows what the future holds! If there are chapters that don’t seem relevant to you now, they eventually might be. I never would have predicted—upon seeing the little snow-white kitty in the Las Vegas animal shelter more than a dozen years ago—that I would develop a world-famous act built around housecats. Or be writing a book about the intricacies of cat