Cats don’t inhabit space as much as they preside over space. Flo hid in our woodshed for a year or so – we never once saw her, except fleetingly, in a blur – until she chose to reveal herself and one by one, take over the farm. First she swatted each of the dogs on the nose for good measure, then she wooed Maria – not hard – and undertook the longer project of winning over me, a dog person. It took her about six months. In the cold, she sleeps inside, usually on my lap, in the summer, and late Spring, she hunts outside and sleeps there. She loves the back porch, the haystacks in the barn, the front porch, and lately, she has been presiding over the Dahlia garden.