I’ve discovered that cat ownership is a wellspring of life lessons. Sure, caring for another living conscious being can teach you about the challenges of parental obligations and the importance of shedding your singular devotion to the self, but my human-cat interactions have been replete with a whole slew of less obvious parables. My cat patiently waits to expound these lessons upon you, and a strict teacher she is.

1. Embrace accidental answers

Naming a cat is a notoriously difficult problem, a task that even a wordsmith like T.S. Eliot concedes “isn’t just one of your holiday games”. My cat was nameless for the first month of our coexistence. It pained me to devoid her of such an integral part of self-identity, but I felt certain that her naming couldn’t be filed off as a frivolous exercise.

Yet after much time spent surmising the perfect metaphor for her personality, after much contemplation about the historical figures and cats of fiction that encapsulated her energetic sassiness, the manner in which my cat’s name arrived in my hands was altogether serendipitous. I’d taken her to the office for some playtime that day. On my way home, I stopped by the AT&T store, pet-carrier-containing-cat in hand, and happened to take a seat next to a pleasant woman who inquired about my waiting room companion. I allowed her to hold my cat, and to my surprise, the oft untamable beast fell into a mystically sedated mood. And all this while in the midst of a telecom store, an environment known cause stress in humans. Upon learning that the creature in her arms was nameless, she said: “You should name her Tahini. She looks like the sauce.”

So that’s it. That’s why my cat is named Tahini. For reasons I don’t entirely comprehend, the demeanor effected onto my cat by this woman convinced me that following her suggestion was not just a good idea, but the right thing to do. I sometimes wonder whether Tahini might be offended by the triviality and coincidence of her naming. During one of our wide-eyed stare-offs, I can imagine her telepathically transmitting her existential angst: “Why didn’t you name me something more meaningful? A sauce?” But Tahini could never understand that chance encounters often triumph carefully planned endeavors, that sometimes the answers you arrive at by accident just feel more right, as if passed on by some divine mandate. And in that regard, the naming of Tahini joins the ranks of history’s happy accidents — the discovery of penicillin, the decision to drink fermented grains, Columbus’ discovery of America.

2. What you put in = What you get out

With cats, nothing comes easily, least of all love. This of course stands in contrast with the dog lover’s favorite rationale for dog ownership (unconditional love) and gives fodder to the cat hater’s favorite rationale for feline rejection (cats are bitches). While I’ve fraternized with the latter camp, I’ve come to realize that hard won affection is one of the best features of cat ownership. Consider the following:

A) The cat is not to be pet on a whim. Amateur cat petters don’t yet know this, which hurls them into a world where fangs are bared and scratches are plentiful. Tahini does love a good petting when her mood allows, and detecting the relatively rare instances where the light turns green is an art that can only be practiced through time spent together learning the intricacies of the other’s behavior so that communication becomes natural without words and interoperable across species (it’s hard to explain, but a certain eye twitch or body posture can instantly give away an imminent attack). That is to say, working to learn and understand others’ emotions and desires tends to decrease the number of skin tears that we’re destined for, whether afflicted by creature, human, or self.

B) The cat is a natural skeptic. Developing a relationship with one requires a good deal of persuasion, and while marketers, politicians, and the like have come to understand the methods of moulding human psyche, no one seems to have a solid idea of how the borderline-sociopathic mind of a cat operates. Selling yourself to a cat, I’m convinced, is more confusing than selling yourself to someone you’re attracted to and more complicated than selling your product to a company because you simply can’t understand what the cat wants. You can be friendly, flirtatious, or fickle, your attitude might be candid, caring, or callous, and sometimes you’ll hit on something that Tahini will vibe with, but oftentimes she just won’t care. Advance after advance met with rejection builds character. Rather than entrench unrealistic expectations of the world into its owner’s mind, the cat is a true pal and gently reminds you that the cynics are at least partially right, that relationships are sometimes insanely random and unpredictable, and that most of all, developing bonds between any two sentient beings requires a good deal of hard work.

3. Love others, but take care of yourself

I’m consistently surprised at how infrequently Tahini expresses boredom. Being holed up in a small San Franciscan apartment hasn’t shaken her belief that her 700 square foot world is an enthralling playground. She loves it when humans dangle a cat toy in front of her, but she by no means requires anyone else to keep her occupied. And this is one of the qualities I admire most about Tahini: driven by a child-like curiosity, she know how to entertain herself. Each new person who enters the apartment is a treasure trove of new smells to thoroughly inhale, every little readjustment of furniture opens up a whole new world of possibilities for jumping and hiding, each new Amazon delivery provides hours of cardboard-laden exploration. She is her own best company, and that’s something I think every human should learn to emulate at least a little.

The independent nature of cats extends to all aspects of their personality, and it’s fair to say that they hold their own well-being in the highest regard. They understand that taking care of themselves comes first. Whereas dogs were bred specifically to obey our commands and survive strictly within the realm of human care, cats, only semi-domesticated, joined human households to form a symbiotic relationship (in antiquity, cats ate the rodents that damaged grain stores, so humans incentivized cats to stick around using treats) in which each party retains agency. And unlike dogs, cats aren’t totally reliant on you for emotional sustenance. I’m not claiming that one or the other is a more rewarding pet ownership experience, merely that I think that we can learn from cats’ tendency towards independence. Of course our primate brains are wired to respond more positively to social interactions, but people would do well to be first and foremost satisfied with themselves, removing the approval of other entities as a necessary component of happiness.