Misty knows when it’s Thursday at 4:45. It’s time for her human’s piano lesson. As the piano begins to echo throughout the house, she comes trotting into the living room to find my lap. If my student or I leave our seats, she immediately replaces us. Sometimes Misty will even interrupt a lesson by getting in the way of my student’s hands while he plays. “She only does this when you’re here,” I’m told.

Maybe it’s because the piano could use some more attention between lessons, but it might just be a combination of sounds, including my voice, that trigger her response to the occasion. Animals are extremely dependent on their auditory systems. Could it be that Misty finds comfort in the regularity of the tones that come from the piano?

If we think about the sounds in her domain, none of them resemble the steadiness of the piano. The pitches of her meows ride a smooth wave, up and down. Her purrs breathe a crackling rumble. Her prey offers a rustle or a chirp. But none of her auditory world provides the consistent and ordered tones of the piano. Is she drawn to the music? I’d like to think so.