In Bilge Karasu’s narratives, “the other” is often not a subaltern human figure, but rather animals—and to a lesser extent, plants. Among these, cats emerge as liminal beings that resist domestication and remain closely connected to vitality itself. This essay examines how animals—especially cats—embody forms of existence that elude human categorization. Through their movements across boundaries, cats reveal cracks in the human-centric world and invite an awareness of a shared, ancient connection between beings. They appear and disappear without explanation, acting as guides to a realm where language and identity do not fully govern life. The cat, both mythical and mundane, occupies a threshold space between the natural and the symbolic, the visible and the obscure. The essay also considers Karasu’s critique of anthropocentric violence and containment, showing how his writing allows for moments of breath and liveliness through nonhuman perspectives.