In marble halls and bustling forums, feline shadows moved like whispers of Vesta herself.
In ancient Rome, cats were rare but revered. They slipped through temple shadows, watched senators debate, and napped atop warm stones. Believed to carry the gaze of the gods, they were protected by law.
Fishermen gifted them scraps for luck. A cat crossing your path was an omen—never bad. They heard prayers whispered in alleyways.
Some say they guarded secret scrolls. Their purrs were thought to heal. Even emperors respected their silence.
Every kitty had a divine spark.