Imagine a calico cat draped across a sun-warmed wall in Santorini. Behind her, the Aegean shimmers with timeless indifference. Tourists pause to photograph her, drawn to her poise, her insouciance. She remains unmoved.This is not a pet, nor an accessory. She is a living emblem of ancient autonomy—not waiting to be claimed, not interested in your approval. She may grant you a moment of her presence. She may not. Either way, you’ll remember her. The domestic cat’s arrival in Greece likely occurred through maritime trade routes, with Egyptian and Phoenician sailors inadvertently delivering feline emissaries to the Mediterranean. Though not formally deified in Greek antiquity, cats occupied a quiet yet meaningful space in the rural and monastic consciousness. Byzantine monks welcomed their company—and their utility. A cat, after all, preserved sacred scrolls more efficiently than any scripture. In this setting, emotional support was not sentimentalized. It was implicit, reciprocal, a...