12/07/2025
The Cats of Istanbul — A City Built on Quiet Companionship
Suppose you spend even a few minutes wandering through Istanbul. In that case, whether you’re drifting through the maze of streets in Karaköy, getting lost in the steep hills of Cihangir, or listening to the calls of fishermen along the Bosphorus, one thing becomes immediately apparent: this is their city just as much as ours.
Cats move through Istanbul with a quiet confidence. They sunbathe on ancient stone steps, perch like sentinels on shop windowsills, and curl up on mosque courtyards, café chairs, and the warm hoods of parked cars. They belong to no one and everyone at the same time. On my recent trip, I found myself photographing them almost instinctively—as if capturing the pulse of the city itself.
I’ve always had a deep affection for cats. I grew up with them, learned their rhythms, their moods, the way they can be both fiercely independent and gently affectionate. So encountering Istanbul’s cats felt strangely familiar, like meeting distant cousins of the pets I grew up with. But the ones I came across on the streets lived a different kind of life—one shaped by weather, wandering, and the kindness (or indifference) of strangers. Some bore the marks of a tough existence: a torn ear, a scar, a wary expression. Others were shockingly pristine, groomed by the hands of the passersby who feed them daily.
What struck me most was how welcome they were. Not tolerated—welcomed. People leave water dishes on doorsteps, put out cardboard boxes lined with blankets, and share bits of simit or fish from a market stall. In a world where stray animals are often pushed to the margins, Istanbul seems to have carved out a place for them in its very identity.
There’s a history behind this. Cats were valued in the Ottoman era for controlling pests in granaries and shipping ports—an essential role in a busy trade city. Over time, respect for cats merged with Islamic cultural values about caring for animals. Stories of the Prophet Muhammad’s love for cats are well-known in Turkey, and many people demonstrate that kindness in their daily lives. Whether or not every resident knows the full history, you can sense the tradition in the way a shopkeeper pauses to scratch a familiar head or how a family leaves a plate of leftovers on the curb.
But this goes beyond practicality or religion; it’s about a relationship. Istanbul and its cats have a mutual understanding: the city offers them safe passage and food, while the cats bring life to the streets.
Photographing them felt like photographing an invisible community, one that weaves itself into every neighbourhood, every corner, every quiet moment. Cats lounging beneath the shadow of Hagia Sophia. Cats strolling through the alleys of Balat with the swagger of seasoned locals. Cats watching the ferries glide across the Golden Horn, as if they too are waiting for the next chapter of the day to unfold.
And mixed into all of this was my own emotional connection to them. There were moments when a cat would look at me with familiar recognition—the same look my childhood cat would give when she settled into my lap after a long day. Small flashes of tenderness that made a foreign city feel unexpectedly close to home.
Not every cat I met was living an easy life, but many were surprisingly well cared for. Strangely, Istanbul has built a system—loosely organized, almost invisible—that sustains them. Locals donate money to neighbourhood feeders, municipal workers put out food stations, and volunteers run small TNR (trap-neuter-return) programs. The result is a city where street cats live with dignity, even if their lives are unpredictable.
As I walked through the city with my camera, I kept feeling the same quiet admiration: Istanbul doesn’t just have cats. It embraces them. They’ve become living symbols of the city’s character—resilient, self-possessed, endlessly curious, and always watching with those unblinking, ancient eyes.
In the coming days, I’ll be sharing a series of photos from this trip: portraits of the cats who crossed my path, from the scrappy survivors to the serene sunbathers. Each one has its own personality, its own story. And together, they paint a portrait of a city where humans and animals coexist in a way that feels rare and meaningful.
If you’ve ever been to Istanbul, you know exactly what I mean. If you haven’t, I hope these images and stories give you a glimpse into why these cats have become such an iconic—and beloved—part of the city’s identity.
For me, this was more than just street photography. It was a reminder that some of the most compelling stories unfold quietly, right at our feet.
Stay tuned for the full Istanbul photo series.
— Drippy Landscapes
