Caffe Interactions

I was raised with dogs. Always loved them. My two boxers, Keeper and Layla—together with Brenda (the third wheel, a basset hound)—taught me everything about the importance of playing and keeping my inner child alive.
When I was around five or six, a dog bit me in the face while I was trying to feed him. (In my defense, I was insistently offering bread. In his, he really didn’t want it.) I ended up in urgent care and had to go through a full anti-rabies treatment. Not funny at all, believe me. But thanks to the fearless magic of childhood—and the way I was raised, always sharing life with animals—I never lost my love for them. Or for play.

More than 15 years later, after Layla passed, the grief hit my family hard. So hard, no one wanted to go through that kind of loss again.
But the universe had its own ideas. After a while, a white cat started hanging around the front entrance of our house with a very curious attitude. My mom is a biologist—and a mom—so of course she noticed him, fed him, and after repeated visits, began stocking up on food just in case he came back.

At first, we’d spy on him through the window like some awkward animal paparazzi, trying to understand this mysterious visitor. We were like a quirky Wes Anderson cast: weird humans observing the elegant, independent creature through glass, as if the house were a zoo—and we were the exotic species trying to understand nature.

You know how it is. People who grew up with dogs often don’t know how to behave around cats (or don’t even like them), and vice versa—unless you’ve been lucky enough to experience both.

One random May afternoon in 2017 (I think), a massive storm hit Mar del Plata. The streets turned into rivers. Our white visitor took refuge in the hall of our house, where we always left food for him. The wind howled so fiercely that we opened the door and let him in. Just like that, our family of four became five.
He became like the Alan Parsons of our Pink Floyd project 😅.

We named him Winter. (Yes, it was Game of Thrones season 4 at that time!!! 😂🤓).

The full story of how we built our relationship with Winter has plenty of funny and ridiculous chapters, but let’s fast-forward to the point:

Cats will teach you everything about limits.
For real.

Let’s not compare them to dogs—no need to pick a team here. They’re just different, and that’s the magic. Cats will show you their boundaries in no time. You can’t pet them whenever you feel like it, grab them, or play with them just because you want to. It has to be mutual. There needs to be a shared desire, a silent “deal” between you two.
And when they want something, oh, they’ll let you know. With sounds, with looks, with unmistakable cat logic. Their communication system is sophisticated, adaptable—and very effective.

The relationship is either completely horizontal… or it just won’t happen. They’ll walk away. They’ll also let you know when they’ve had enough. And if you miss the signs? Well… hello, scratch 😅🥴.

Cats take their time. They observe. They don’t stay where they don’t want to be. They have preferences—even if that means choosing a cardboard box over your expensive new sofa. And those tastes change over time. If you pay attention, you’ll start noticing the seasons of your cat’s moods and decisions.

They can be brilliant mirrors of our own behavior. How many times have you found yourself in a relationship—work, family, love—realizing only later that you needed to set boundaries? And that setting them is actually what makes the relationship healthier?

Cats don’t fake it. They won’t go on a date just because they’re afraid of rejection. They won’t overstay a welcome. If they want you just for food and naps (which, let’s face it, some humans do too), they’ll be honest about it. Zero ambiguity.
Doing business with a cat is all charm and clear codes. They don’t hesitate to say NO. (Again: the scratch!) In that way, they’re great role models for building honest, healthy behavior.

With Winter, I learned not just to respect the limits of others—but to communicate my own. Without fear of being rejected. Without fear of not being chosen. Because let’s be honest: nobody wants to stay where they’re not wanted.

However, after centuries of refining language, maybe we humans could try expressing our limits without scratching. 🤓😅
So now I ask you:
Would you reconsider how you communicate your boundaries?
Or would you rather just go full feline, avoid all people, and stick to meowing your feelings?

Either way… I hope scratching doesn’t win this debate. 🤍


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