My two year old tabby Max paces and whines and sits at the front door with the pitiful look of a prisoner begging his jailor to set him free. When he and his brother Sage were six months old, I let them run around the backyard garden under my supervision. After Sage jumped over the fence into the road, and Max climbed up a large tree, that freedom was over.

I lived in North Carolina for 25 years before moving to California, and it was safe for my previous cats to go in and out. But when I moved to San Diego eleven years ago, I was warned, don’t let your cats outside because of coyotes.

The reminders are constant.

A sign the other day in my neighborhood,“Missing black and white cat called Charlie, sweet and loving. Reward offered” with a picture of sweet Charlie included.

The neighborhood app, Next Door, with endless posts about missing cats.

My neighbor lost his cat to a coyote recently.

And, early one morning, an emaciated coyote sat a few feet away from the kitchen window staring up at Max and Sage as they stared back from the windowsill. Breakfast. The prospect of letting my cats out seemed low. How could they enjoy nature without becoming a coyote’s next meal?

After all the whining at the front door, maybe Max might walk on a leash.

I’d seen very few cats on leashes, but it was worth a try. When I introduced the leash to the cats, Sage was afraid and ran away, but Max seemed open. With just a little bit of wiggling around, he let me hook him right up.

I opened the front door. He sat and stared and then looked back at me. Can I really go out? It didn’t take long until he was bounding down the front steps. Now when I bring out the leash after dinner, Max runs to the front door in anticipation. He hardly contains himself until the leash is on. Freedom, outdoors, scents and creatures to chase! Every evening we explore the garden. He smells the sage, lavender, and rosemary. He chews on sunflower leaves and rolls around on a sandy garden path until he is covered in dirt. Pure bliss.

Most of the time he forgets about me and the leash, until he crouches under a bush and lunges at a lizard dragging me along for the ride. I think I am as happy as Max is as I watch him explore. It’s true. When you do something for others, it raises your own joy level exponentially. We should do it more often. It is especially joyful to see a tabby housecat with just his tail sticking out from under a lantana bush.

Sage still runs the other way when I bring out the leash. I hope he changes his mind eventually. The great outdoors is calling.