There are cats like the one who visits my backyard all the time but won’t let me go near it. If I take even a step in its direction it dashes away. Recently, it got a little more bold and began sunning itself rather close to my actual back porch area, but if it sees me coming, it scrams and retreats to the thick brush at the back of my lawn. And when I walk out to pee, it eyes me suspiciously.

Then there are the ones who come right up to you on the street and basically demand to be petted and stroked. I like those cats. They come and brush against your leg and lay down at your feet and sometimes they’ll even trip you up if you try to walk away.

But THEN … there is this third category. They seem to be curious about you when they see you on the street, so you squat down to encourage them to approach you, and then they do, but then they only just barely graze your extended hand with one ear and then walk around you and then plant themselves in front of you a few inches away, content to be near you but not inviting touch. And sometimes you (or rather I) just sit there very calmly, in silent communion with the cat, who is not even looking at you (or me), for minutes at a time, just feeling very present, very meditative.

Cats are so gifted that way. They have so much to show us about boundaries and consent, among other things.