Wherever I go, cats know me. Skittish little cats will slowly approach me on the street when I crouch down and offer my hand. Shop cats will walk over to me and rub against my legs, then jump up on a counter for a nose kiss. Friends' cat will roll over for a tickle. These are not necessarily friendly cats, but they are friendly with me.
My husband says it's because our cats have marked us. Not with their scent (although we get plenty of that kind of marking, too), but with something more mysterious -- an invisible sign that only cats can read; a sign that says "crazy cat person." Whatever it is, I'm a marked woman wherever I go. Cats always recognize me as a friend. It's something I'm really proud of.
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