Stories and moments from Yolihuacán sanctuary, sharing the lives, essence and teachings of the animals we care for and our journeys together.

It is already dark. I’m waiting when I hear a car pull up in front of my house. I walk to the living room window to see who it is. That’s when I notice her.

She is slim, short, and graceful. The new moon makes it nearly impossible to see clearly, but the streetlights catch her silhouette. She moves with purpose, like she owns the place. She knows exactly where she’s going.

“¡Hola!” The words slip out as a smile breaks across my face.

Surprised, she stops. Her light, deliberate steps come to a halt. She turns toward me, alert. We’re both still, standing there, our faces barely touched by the dim light. Clearly, she didn’t expect me to notice her, let alone interact. Maybe she is used to going mostly unseen after sunset, or perhaps people are too absorbed in their own thoughts and presumably busy lives.

Yet she doesn’t seem scared. I watch her body relax. She keeps looking at me, her eyes probing, as if she can feel the joy pouring out of me.

I slow my breath and feel into my body: I soften my muscles and my face. I focus all my attention on this moment. Everything else fades. It’s just her and me.

I bring my awareness to my heart — as breathing from it, imagining it opening more and more, like tuning into a radio station. I want the signal to be as clear as possible. Let’s talk, I think.

Her eyes lock on mine; she lies down on the patio tiles. I stay still, in awe of this beautiful moment suspended outside of time.

How lucky am I? Wow.

I am Aidan, I think, thrilled to be making contact.

The front door opens. I’m pulled back to my surroundings.

It was her car, I realize.

“Hello,” I say softly, excitement tinting my voice.

“We have a guest,” I add, stepping outside with urgency.

I catch sight of her tiny silhouette moving away. She’s still here, I reassure myself, squatting to her level. She turns. A big smile spreads across my face again. I sit on the ground. She does too. Facing each other as equals. One soul to another.

In these moments I always feel lucky. The thrill of a new friendship, or perhaps just an ephemeral connection, will make my day brighter, even if only for a few seconds. I feel alive, connected, part of something greater.

I extend my hand as an offering. She hesitates, then moves toward me, sniffs it, and rubs her head against my palm. My heart swells. I feel accepted.

Up close, I notice her coat: grey tabby, striking green eyes. The white around her mouth and cheeks matches her whiskers; fine black lines flow from her eyes, like dark eyeliner traced across warmer tones of fur. Cat eye, as some say.

She brushes the soft side of her body against my leg, her coat rippling beneath my fingers. Mesmerizing. I am transfixed by her beauty and the magic of this encounter.

In a zigzagging dance, she presses against me and looks up with a radiant look. Her excitement is contagious. My whole body buzzes with joy. I can feel hers too. Like meeting an old friend, ecstatic to reunite after a long time apart.

I could stay forever, but I remember I’m not alone for dinner. Rising, I glance at my new feline companion. Her curiosity is clear as she peeks toward the light inside the house.

I step forward. She follows.

It takes me a moment to realize: after such a long wait, I have a home and there is a cat in it again.

I am very lucky.

And perhaps she feels lucky too.

Home together, at last.