If you’ve joined me for yoga-from-home classes, you’ve met Albert, or at least caught a glimpse of him on your screen.

Often during class he would wander through the frame on his way to the kitchen, always on his own time, never on cue.

Or he would sit on the couch, just out of the camera’s reach, and watch me put on a show to (from his perspective) no-one.

Sometimes - but not always - he’d pause, gaze into the camera, and say hello.

Once in a while he would hop up on the chair I was using to demonstrate. Or chew on my computer cord. Or drink out of my water glass. Or sit on the mat and stare at me, meowing silently as I led the class, asking to be brushed.

Were you there the time he was stricken with a hairball and raced around the apartment, vomiting and yowling, eventually settling on my yoga mat for his grand finale? (All captured on the class recording and shared as usual afterward.)

Albert was his own cat. And he was part of my schtick, I suppose.

So much of yoga teaching is about creating an atmosphere that feels quietly inviting, relaxed, even a little playful, a space where people know it’s ok to hand over the reins for an hour, to get comfortable enough to become curious about how their bodies work and who they are.

Albert was a big part of that.

We said goodbye to our Albert this past week. He is so very much missed. But I’m so grateful he was part of my life for 18 years and I’m glad you got to know him in his golden years.

Hug your animals close (even if they protest a little).

In loving memory of Albert J. Kaplan, 2005 - 2023.