I’m teaching my cat how to whisper.

I don’t know a lot about training cats (I seem to recall something about outrageous facial hair and a guitar case full of feathered toys), but what I do remember is that positive reinforcement works the best.

My cat’s name is Jolene and she is blind as a bat. She’s a bengal, and besides being blind, she also loves being around people and is extremely vocal. If you’re in the bathroom, she wants in the bathroom. If you’re in the garage, she wants in the garage. If you’re sitting on the couch, she wants to be sitting on you on the couch. If she’s unable to do any of these things, she’ll meow at you until she can.

She’s a great cat and I love her to death, but she can be annoying. Especially when we’re trying to cook.

Jolene loves all the smells and the sounds of the kitchen — but she also realizes that the kitchen is a dangerous place full of fire and strange liquids that might splash in your face. Since she can’t see anything, whenever we’re cooking, she’s torn between her desire to get in there and see what’s going on and her fear of burning her lil whiskies.

She’s struck a balance by standing on a nearby empty counter and meowing incessantly at whoever happens to be slicing or dicing or what-have-you.

So, what I started doing was giving her a lot of attention. Positive attention. Whenever I was cooking and Jolene jumped up on the counter, I’d go over and pet her the way she likes, scratch her head, get her purring, and then I’d lean in real close to her ear and whisper, “meow,” in the tiniest voice I could muster.

It took a couple of weeks, but Jolene finally caught on. “Oh, I get it,” she thought. “We’re being sneaky!”

She might not have understood why we were being quiet, but pretty soon I’d lean in and whisper, “meow,” and she’d rub her nose against me and meep out the quiettest little, “meep,” right back at me. It’s become a bit of a routine.

On the nights when I cook dinner, I make sure to go over to the counter and pet the kitty and give her a little whispery meep. Putting ice in a glass? Meep. Unpacking groceries? Meep.

She hasn’t really taken this habit to the rest of the house, but now, when I’m flipping eggs or whatever, there’ll be a surprising little whisper from nearby, and that means it’s time to take a minute to go pet the cat.

“Who is training who,” you whisper with a smile.

I whisper back, “Whom.”