The night market vendor two stalls down from mine in Tainan swears her cat can tell, before anyone else at the market, which stall is about to sell out first each night. "He sits in front of whoever's closing early," she told me, watching her cat, an orange lump named Dabao, plant himself squarely in front of my oyster omelet cart on a night I genuinely thought I'd overstocked. "Watch. You'll be out before ten." I laughed it off. I was out by 9:40, first time in weeks, while she still had half her stock left at midnight. "Coincidence," I said the next night, watching Dabao pick a different stall entirely. "Six months," she said. "Track it yourself if you don't believe me." I did, mostly out of boredom between customers, and the pattern held disturbingly well….. not every night, but often enough that other vendors had started low-key checking Dabao's location before deciding how much extra batter to prep. I finally asked her how a cat could possibly predict inventory turnover with better accuracy than actual math. She shrugged, already ladling batter for a customer. "He doesn't predict anything. He just likes whoever seems most anxious that night. Anxious vendors work faster, sell faster. He's not smart. We're just easy to read." Dabao was in front of my cart again last week. I sold out by 9:15. I've stopped calling it luck. I've started calling it a warning to relax.