Growing up as a young girl, there was one thing I couldn’t stand: cats. I genuinely believed them to be selfish, real-life villains, ready to ‘bounce’ and leave their owners if they could. Not unlike the cats in the much-loved 2001 spy-comedy film ‘Cats vs Dogs’ or Inga Moore’s 1990 book, ‘Six Dinner Sid’, which I’m sure my fellow 90s babies would agree was and still is a brilliant read. 

Despite never having one at home, I always thought of myself as more of a dog person. They always seemed friendlier and more loyal, and thanks to the films and media I grew up on, I believed it. But I could never find out how true that was, as my African mother never let my siblings and me have pets as children.

Fast forward to 2025, I live in Istanbul, a city with cats everywhere—perched on every street corner, lounging in window displays, at the doorway of shops, atop the roofs of cars, and occasionally eyeing the front of a meat shop, patiently waiting for someone to drop a nugget of a delectable, and one often does. Or they might be lightly traipsing over to a food bowl kindly prepared for them by anyone who’s not their owner. 

For example, take Gli, born and raised at the Hagia Sophia, the most prolific of Istanbul’s mosques and a Byzantine architectural masterpiece. She became an internet sensation until she died in 2020.

During my time in Türkiye, I’ve experienced a massive change of heart. It all started on Eid-ul-Fitr in 2018, just before I moved to my new home. In our family garden, I watched a mother cat cautiously approach a plate of sausages I had left for her. She called her kittens out from a nearby bush to share the meal, although, unsurprisingly, she took the lion’s share herself. My mum’s empathetic expression is still vivid in my mind. I remember how my heart softened. In a way, my here-and-now feels like poetic justice for my once-unfounded suspicions of the feline species. And you’d be glad to know that my family has two cats now, Rhaegar and Shae.

But I don’t take that newfound sentiment for granted. Believe it or not, not everyone likes cats in Istanbul. But whether the lover or odd hater likes it or not, it sometimes feels like every stray cat inadvertently belongs to us Istanbulians, simply because they are an inseparable part of the city that we love, an extension of us and our homes.

Hair stylist Ebru tells me,“ It makes me very happy that there are cats everywhere in Istanbul, that they come out of every corner, and that I can love them as much as I want because cats are my favourite animals. Especially since they are independent, they all have different characters like people. Their stubbornness and strong characters that are impossible to train attract me.”

Cats are often near the Hagia Sophia and other important religious sites. The Hagia Sophia’s connection with cats was also popularised by the 2016 documentary Kedi, which captures the lives of street cats in Istanbul. Anthropologist  Kimberly Hart believes the origin of the city’s ‘cat culture’ is unclear and is the  “stuff of cultural memory and legends rather than historical verifiability.” However, the deep-rooted bond between Istanbul’s cats and the city’s unique cultural heritage reflects the broader Islamic principle of stewardship. 

Human beings today are inheritors of the vicegerency bestowed on Prophet Adam AS, which comes as a special favour from Allah Almighty. He ﷻsays in Surah Al-Isra 17:70:

“And We have certainly honoured the children of Adam and carried them on the land and sea and provided for them of the good things and preferred them over much of what We have created, with [definite] preference.”

Cats hold a special place in Islamic teachings on animal welfare. Many of us are familiar with Abdullah bin Umar’s narration that the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said, “A woman was tortured and was put in Hell because of a cat which she had kept locked till it died of hunger.” Allah’s Messenger ﷺ further said, (Allah knows better) Allah said (to the woman), ‘You neither fed it nor watered when you locked it up, nor did you set it free to eat the vermin of the earth.’”

In this spirit of acknowledgement and appreciation for our surroundings, I turn to how the Ottoman Turks established institutions and practices to care for cats.  Sultan Abdul Hamid II, who reigned from 1876 to 1909, was known for his love of animals, particularly cats. At Yıldız Palace, he housed nearly 1,500 cats of different breeds. Additionally, special foundations were established to care for stray animals and help feed them, especially during winter.

Historian and writer Zafer Bilgi says the practice dates back even further. After the conquest of Istanbul on May 29, 1453, “külliyes” (complexes) were built on the seven hills, and Mehmet II  (also known as Fatih the Conqueror) also had a külliye built in the middle of the seven hills, where cats have been prevalent ever since. He also cited records from 500 years ago indicating that the city’s Bayezid Mosque was built after it was determined how the income for feeding the animals living nearby would be used to protect their rights.

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Fatih Dagli is the creative director of The Cat Museum, which is located in the Beyoğlu district near the famous Galata Tower. I stumbled upon it on an evening stroll in January. While the idea of a cat museum did not completely take me off guard, I was intrigued.  It aims to become the world’s largest collection of cat art in Istanbul and plans to dedicate 50% of its profits to supporting street animals in the city.

“For centuries, Istanbul’s people have been living with a high population of stray cats that were spreading from the merchant ships anchored at its busy ports. As cats have an irresistible charm on people with their beauty, and they were also useful against rodents, they secured their place in the city”, Fatih explained. 

He added, “During the Ottoman period, people’s attitude towards street animals was formed with Islamic beliefs and Turkish cultural values. People called mancacı were specially assigned to look after street animals, such as cats, dogs and birds. They were selling offal and liver on the streets so that people could buy and feed animals or give money to mancacı to feed them in the name of God.”  The Cat Museum is a continuation of that legacy.

Office Administrator Sultani says, “As a cat owner myself (I have four!), it makes me so happy to see how much people in Istanbul love and care for cats. They feel like the city’s mascots—you see them everywhere, lounging around, getting treats, and just living their best lives. It’s so heartwarming to see the kindness and compassion people show them. I love it.”

At one point, even the company I work for temporarily adopted a white and ginger cat named Carrot, who unceremoniously graced the office floors and whom I would find peacefully snoozing away on my seat first thing on a Monday morning. He was our ‘Larry the Cat,’ if you will.

Elif shared a moment that challenges that darker narrative, “I remember a neighbour once complained about the cats around our apartment complex, insisting they were too smelly and should be removed. The irony? Her house was nowhere near where the cats gathered. Yet, despite this, I’ve witnessed countless moments of kindness that have nearly brought me to tears. One rainy day, as I was descending the stairs to catch the metro, I saw a woman from a distance who took off her shawl and gently draped it over a cat to shield it from the cold. It was clear she didn’t hesitate for even a second to make that sacrifice. And stories like that are far from rare in this city.”

As I reflect on my time in Istanbul, I can’t help but marvel at how this city has transformed my perspective on cats from unfounded skepticism to deep admiration. Istanbul isn’t just a city with cats; it’s a city for cats, where history, faith, and culture meet in a manner that is probably unrivalled elsewhere.

Whether they rest in the shade of ancient mosques, charm their way into cafés, or rule the streets with confidence, loving cats is about embracing the spirit of this beautiful and unique city.