A nation split along fault lines of national identity, religion and ethnicity is united by one thing: a love of felines

Selim can often be spotted surveying his neighbourhood, a stone’s throw away from the Galata tower and down the hill from bustling İstiklal avenue. He looks content, his expanding belly and long orange hair neatly combed.

A resident of historic Istanbul, he endures with mild distaste the tourists who every day photograph him as he mills about in his shop, a handmade leather store called Moria.

‘I made a love letter to the city and the cats’ Read more

Selim is a cat, and of course he thinks he owns the neighbourhood. All of Istanbul, its winding hilly roads and back alleys and cafes could be said to belong to its hundreds of thousands of stray felines, symbols of a city steeped in history.

But it is winter now, and they begrudgingly have to accept help from the humans who frequently interrupt their naps on the chairs of busy coffeeshops. As the harsh cold, rain and snow of Istanbul draws near, winter cat houses pop up all over the city, some provided by local municipalities, others by citizens.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Tuana Ekin Şahin playing the violin to raise money for stray cats in Istanbul. Photograph: Kareem Shaheen

Turkey is a polarised nation, one split along fault lines of national identity, religion and secularism, and ethnicity. Half of the country recently voted against granting sweeping new presidential powers to Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, and the other half voted for the proposal. But one thing that unites Turks of all stripes is affinity for cats. One activist, frustrated by the polarisation of Turkey’s political scene, mused that the only thing that could make an Islamist, a secularist and a socialist agree on anything was to kick a cat and wait for the inevitable beating.

Mustafa Efe has gone one step further than a mere cat house, typically a painted wooden structure akin to an oversized dollhouse, with space in it for three or four strays. Across the Bosphorus on the Asian side of the city, the imam of the Aziz Mahmud Hudayi mosque in Üsküdar has opened the gates of his house of worship for the strays to take shelter, becoming a social media sensation in the process. In one viral video on his Instagram account, he playfully wags his finger at a kitten as he sits inside the mosque in mock admonishment, and she leaps and bites it.

On a chilly afternoon, he smiles as he greets wellwishers after leading the prayers. A sonorous recital of the Qur’an follows, while the felines frolic in the cemetery attached to the mosque.

“In Islam we have a compassionate religion, God is the most gracious and most merciful,” he said. “We are responsible for these living creatures, they are our friends who cannot talk.”

“What we learn from the God and prophet we believe in is that anything other than mercy is inconceivable, and so the mosque is open every day, for any of these creatures, whenever they need mercy,” he added.

Nobody knows the origins of Turkey’s affinity for cats. Most stores, pubs, government offices and cafes have their own feline mascots and bowls of water and dry cat food line the sidewalks everywhere.



Residents feel a responsibility for the strays in their neighbourhood and sometimes collectively pitch in to feed them. Even the Hagia Sophia has its own famous cat, Gli.

Animal abuse is met with swift condemnation by all quarters and can even trigger protests. A video of an apparently inebriated soldier torturing a cat led to protests in the province of Erzincan, the man’s detention, and a pledge of a full investigation by the country’s interior minister.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest A cat jumps onto the pitch during 2009 Uefa cup final at the Şükrü Saracoğlu stadium, Istanbul. Photograph: Peter Byrne/PA

Part of the explanation might be religious. Cats are considered ritually clean animals in Islam, and legends of the prophet Muhammad abound that urge kindness to them. But other Muslim countries don’t have the same relationship with their strays.

The winter homes are popping up all over Istanbul, though are hardly enough to protect all the strays. That is why Tuana Ekin Şahin, a 12-year-old student, decided she would take matters into her own hands.

Since the summer, Şahin goes every week, weather permitting, to the bustling İstiklal avenue to play the violin to raise money for more cat homes.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest A boy feeds street cats in Istanbul. Photograph: Bulent Kilic/AFP/Getty Images

Şahin raised over 2,000 lira (about £384), which she put towards building a large cat home in her neighbourhood and to feed local stray dogs. In her spare time, she and her mother worked on a children’s book about a dog who once visited their home, told from the perspective of a three-legged cat.

“I was worried about embarrassment, but I knew I was playing for the animals, and that gave me joy,” she said. “Playing in Istiklal is also practice so we don’t bother the neighbours,” her mother, Deniz, chimed in.