Breed Profiles

I bought a cat tree and watched it gather dust for a year. Then I brought home a Norwegian Forest Cat and learned what "climber" actually means, because within an hour she'd scaled the bookcase, knocked three paperbacks onto my head, and settled on top of the wardrobe like a small furry landlord surveying her estate. The breed earned its name in the forests of Norway, and the instinct to be above everything is not a habit you train out of them.

People hear "Forest Cat" and picture a wild thing, but the reality is a big soft companion who happens to think vertically. My girl, called Tove, is the most relaxed cat I've owned until something is higher than she is, and then the hunt is on. She's not anxious about it. She's purposeful, like the shelf was placed there specifically for her inspection.

The climber that owns your bookshelves

These are large, sturdy cats with a semi-long double coat built for snow, a ruff around the neck, tufts on the ears and between the toes, and a tail as thick as a fox's. The coat is water-resistant and sheds heavily twice a year, during which you'll find enough of it to knit a second cat. Tove is brown tabby with silver tips, and in winter she looks like she's wearing a fur stole she earned.

They're slow to mature, taking four or five years to finish growing, and they stay playful the whole time. A Forest Cat doesn't outgrow the kitten habit of chasing, climbing, and pouncing, which means the entertainment never stops but neither does the need for things to climb. Tall scratchers, wall shelves, a secure bookcase, give them vertical space and they're content. Deny it and they'll make their own, usually on something you'd rather they left alone.

Temperament is the gentle giant story again, but with more independence than a Maine Coon. Tove likes people, follows me room to room, and greets guests at the door, but she isn't a lap cat in the clingy sense. She's a companion who checks in, then goes about her business of patrolling the high ground. With children and dogs she's usually patient if introduced properly, and the size means she can hold her own without drama.

The coat looks like work and mostly isn't. A few minutes with a comb twice a week keeps the worst of the tangles out, and they don't mat as badly as you'd fear because the undercoat is designed to shed. The spring blowout is the exception, when you'll comb daily and still find drifts of fur on the floor.

What surprised me

The voice. I expected a quiet cat and got a chatty one, though the breed's call is soft and oddly musical, a little trill more than a meow. Tove announces her climbs, her arrivals, and her opinion of the weather, all in a voice too small for a cat this size.

They're also better travellers and explorers than most cats. Forest Cats take to a harness and lead with less protest than you'd expect, and some even enjoy a careful outdoor walk. Tove tolerates the harness as a price of admission to the garden, where she climbs the apple tree and refuses to come down until bribed with chicken.

Health is reasonable for a natural breed, with a couple of inherited conditions worth screening, hip dysplasia and a heart issue among them. Ask a breeder about tests and you'll learn a lot about whether they're serious. The breed is robust and long-lived when bred carefully, and a good one will share your home for fifteen years or more.

If you want a cat with the heart of an adventurer and the manners of a guest, the Norwegian Forest Cat is a fine choice. Just clear a high shelf first, and accept that the top of the wardrobe is now hers.

Feeding a Forest Cat is easier than you'd think for a cat this size, because they're not greedy, they're just big. Tove eats a measured amount twice a day and would happily graze if I let her, but free feeding rounded her out faster than I liked, so the measured bowl stays. A puzzle feeder slowed her down and gave the clever head something to do, and a cat working for her dinner is a cat not climbing the curtains out of boredom.

In the garden she's a different animal. Tove found the pond once and tried to fish with a paw, soaked and unrepentant, and I learned to supervise the water the way I would a toddler. They're explorers, not lap ornaments, and a safe garden with high places is the happiest home you can give one. Mine surveys hers from the shed roof and looks profoundly pleased with the arrangement.

The breed's calm with family is the part that sells them to me. A cat this size could be a handful, yet Tove greets guests like an old friend and tolerates the small nieces with a patience I don't have myself.