Mochi and the Bakery Cat

Mochi was a cat with strong opinions about most things, but especially bakeries. She liked the smell of them. She did not like going inside. This made bakeries a complicated topic for Mochi.

One evening, on a slow walk down a slow street, Mochi found herself outside a small bakery she hadn't visited before. The lights inside had gone from bright to soft to candle-warm. The door was open just a crack.

In the window sat another cat.

She was grey, where Mochi was orange. She was thin, where Mochi was round. She was old, where Mochi was middle-aged. They looked at each other for a long minute — the way cats do, with no words at all.

"Hello," said Mochi, eventually, in the way cats say hello — which is not really hello at all, but a slow blink.

The bakery cat slow-blinked back.

Mochi took two careful steps closer. The bakery cat did not move. This was a good sign. Cats who do not move when you approach them are saying: I see you, I respect you, please continue. Cats who do move are saying: you are not yet welcome here.

When Mochi was close enough, the bakery cat tipped her head — very slightly — toward the door.

"Would you like to come in?" she was saying. "There is a warm spot near the oven."

Mochi considered this. Bakery, on the inside, was a serious step. But — a warm spot. And a polite invitation. And another cat who knew how to be quiet.

Mochi went inside.

The next morning, the baker found two cats asleep near the oven, and laughed, and gave them both a small bowl of milk. Diplomatic relations had been established.