I love animals.

Possibly more than people, which sounds antisocial until you consider that no cat has ever added me to a group text I didn’t want to be in.

There isn’t really an animal I don’t find wonderful. Dogs? Obviously. Horses? Magnificent. Cows? Giant grass puppies. Raccoons? I understand I’m not supposed to touch them, but have you seen their little hands?

Which makes something about my writing career particularly strange.

I’ve written a lot of books, yet I can count on one hand the number that prominently feature an animal.

Apparently, I can create entire towns, murder investigations, supernatural realms, witches, demons, cowboys and enough romantic complications to keep several therapists employed—but somehow nobody owns a cat.

Meanwhile, social media’s terrifyingly accurate algorithm recently introduced me to cat lore.

Not cat facts. Cat lore.

According to one modern esoteric theory, cats were brought to Earth by the Anunnaki—ancient beings from Mesopotamian mythology—to guard “thin places,” where the boundary between our world and whatever lies beyond it becomes permeable.

Cats, the lore says, can see what we can’t and protect our souls from whatever might slip through.

Every cat owner just thought of the stare.

You’re sitting peacefully when your cat’s head suddenly snaps around. Ears forward. Eyes locked on an empty corner.

You look.

Nothing.

The cat keeps staring.

Before, I would’ve said, “What are you looking at, weirdo?”

Now?

You see something over there, buddy? Handle it.

I have deadlines.

Of course, there’s no historical evidence that the Anunnaki delivered supernatural security cats to humanity. But ancient cultures really did have fascinating relationships with felines. Egyptians famously associated cats with protection and divinity.

And then there’s the purr.

A cat’s purr falls within low-frequency ranges that researchers have studied for potential effects on bone and tissue healing. That doesn’t make your cat a furry medical device, but it certainly doesn’t hurt the lore.

Which brings me to the Cat Distribution System.

Cat people know.

Sometimes you don’t choose a cat. A kitten appears under your porch. A stray starts waiting outside your house. Through some mysterious chain of events, a cat simply arrives.

Congratulations.

You’ve been issued a cat.

And I don’t question it.

Maybe they show up because something in us needs healing. Maybe there’s a thin place requiring additional security. Maybe they discovered we have central air and expensive cat food.

I’m comfortable with all three possibilities.

But this rabbit hole has made me realize something: maybe my fictional worlds need more animals.

They occupy such a huge place in my real life that it’s strange they’ve been largely absent from my imaginary one.

So perhaps I’ll trust the Distribution System there, too.

And if one of those fictional cats starts staring intently at an empty corner?

I’m not investigating.

That’s between the cat and whatever is standing there.

Kim Van Meter is a former full-time reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Escalon Times and The Riverbank News; she continues to provide a monthly column. She can be reached at kvanmeter@oakdaleleader.com.