Cats of Turkey: Symbols of Mystery, Protection, and Freedom
- Yana Evans
- 3 days ago
- 6 min read
In the heart of Turkey’s bustling cities and quiet villages, cats roam freely—not as strays, but as cherished spirits woven into the fabric of daily life. Their graceful presence, both ancient and intimate, reflects a profound cultural reverence that spans centuries. From sacred Islamic teachings to Ottoman art, and from the shadowed alleys of Istanbul to the sunlit steps of seaside towns, Turkish cats are not merely animals—they are protectors, companions, and symbols of freedom. This enduring bond between people and felines reveals a unique story—one where compassion, spirituality, and urban life converge in the soft pad of a paw.
A Sacred Legacy of Cats of Turkey
The deep bond between Turks and cats is not simply cultural—it’s spiritual, ancient, and profoundly humane.
In Islamic tradition, cats hold a special and exalted place. Unlike many other animals, they are regarded as ritually clean, and thus allowed to enter homes and even mosques. This reverence can be traced back to the Prophet Muhammad, who is said to have had a beloved cat named Muezza. Legend tells that one day, as the Prophet rose to pray, he found Muezza sleeping peacefully on his robe. Rather than disturb the animal, he gently cut the cloth, allowing the cat to remain at rest. In another story, he once gave a sermon with a cat resting on his lap—unbothered, unhurried, a small embodiment of peace.
Because of such stories, cats have become associated with mercy, purity, and quiet wisdom in the Islamic world. In Ottoman times, this love for cats grew into a civic virtue. Wealthy benefactors would donate to vakıfs—charitable endowments—that provided food and shelter specifically for stray cats and dogs. In Istanbul, some of these animal foundations lasted for centuries, ensuring animals were cared for as a form of social and spiritual duty.
This attitude toward cats wasn’t just kindness—it was theology in action. The Qur’an and Hadith literature emphasize compassion for all living beings. Harming a cat was considered sinful, while caring for one was seen as a righteous deed. Stories were told of sinners forgiven because they gave water to a thirsty cat, or saints rewarded for feeding a hungry stray.
Even today, these sacred echoes remain in Turkish daily life. It's not uncommon for people to whisper “bismillah” (in the name of God) before feeding a cat, or to consider a cat's visit a small blessing. To many Turks, cats are not "strays"—they are “God’s guests”.
And so, in the alleyways of Istanbul or the courtyards of Anatolian villages, when a cat curls up beside a mosque door or purrs on a café chair, it isn’t just passing time—it’s fulfilling a centuries-old legacy of spiritual connection, mutual respect, and divine companionship.
Street Cats, City Souls
Walk the streets of Istanbul, and you’ll find them everywhere—lounging on ancient stone walls, curled up on velvet café cushions, darting through the shadows of bazaars. These aren’t pets in the traditional sense. They’re citizens. Free spirits with full rights to the city.
Unlike in many other places where stray animals might be viewed with fear or pity, Turkish street cats are embraced as part of the urban fabric. They move with quiet authority, navigating mosques, bookstores, fish markets, and ferry terminals. They nap beneath tulip beds in public gardens and saunter into antique shops as if inspecting the merchandise. Locals leave food, water, and even hand-built shelters outside their homes or shops, not out of obligation, but because it’s simply what one does.
In a country that straddles continents, history, and faiths, these cats are both timeless and transient, slipping through the cracks of modern life like echoes of the ancient. Their presence is a comfort—familiar, constant. For many, they embody the city’s soul: proud, independent, and quietly wise.
Some cats even develop local fame. A cat like Tombili, the chubby street feline who became an internet sensation for her relaxed, human-like pose on a Kadıköy sidewalk, was honored with her own bronze statue after her passing. Others become spiritual mascots of local mosques, like Gli, the green-eyed beauty of Hagia Sophia, who greeted millions of tourists for years and earned love far beyond Turkey’s borders.
But beyond the anecdotes and viral fame lies a deeper truth: these cats have grown up with the cities, and the cities have grown around them. They are not intruders—they are part of the memory of the place. Each cat carries a silent story. A little history. A little magic. They soften the edges of a bustling metropolis and serve as living proof that compassion can thrive amid concrete and crowds.
Even those who claim not to be “cat people” often find themselves feeding the same feline each morning on the way to work. In these quiet acts—sharing a morsel, opening a shop door for warmth, whispering greetings—something sacred happens: human and animal, city and soul, all connected in a ritual of gentle coexistence.
So the next time you visit a Turkish town or city, slow down. Watch the rooftops and shadows. You might just catch the gaze of a street cat who’s been there longer than the cobblestones—and who carries in her eyes a little piece of Istanbul’s heart.
Cats in Turkish Art and Culture
In Turkey, cats are far more than companions or stray animals; they are living symbols—woven into the country's history, art, and soul. Their presence flows through Turkish culture like calligraphy ink on paper, subtle yet expressive. These animals are celebrated in ways both sacred and everyday, admired for their elegance, independence, and quiet mystery.
From the days of the Ottoman Empire, cats have appeared in Turkish miniature paintings and literature, often curled beside poets or lounging on richly patterned carpets. Though they rarely take center stage, their inclusion in these works speaks volumes. They represent a harmony between the material and the spiritual, domestic tranquility, and the contemplative stillness of inner life. Some poets even likened them to dervishes—those mystics who whirl in spiritual ecstasy. Like dervishes, cats appear deeply inward, lost in silent knowing, their movements both meditative and divine.
In traditional calligraphy, an art deeply respected in Islamic and Turkish culture, cats occasionally find their way between the lines—sometimes hidden within the shapes of Arabic script. In these instances, devotion merges with creativity, and the artist acknowledges the quiet sanctity of the animal world.
This reverence carries into religious spaces too. In mosques across Turkey, cats can be seen curled up near the prayer niche or weaving through rows of shoes outside. Far from being shooed away, they are accepted—respected even—as clean and peaceful creatures. Stories of the Prophet Muhammad's love for cats are well known in Islamic tradition, and in Turkey, this heritage remains vivid. Many locals recount the tale of how the Prophet once cut off a portion of his own robe rather than disturb his sleeping cat, Muezza. Today, this story echoes in the gentle way Turkish people interact with felines—often leaving out food, water, or shelter for street cats without a second thought.
Istanbul especially has become famous for its cats, thanks in part to the globally acclaimed documentary Kedi. In it, cats are not simply featured—they are the protagonists. Each one has a name, a personality, a favorite corner of the city. Through their eyes, we glimpse a deeper Istanbul—ancient and modern, bustling yet intimate. In their silent wanderings, they seem to carry a spirit that transcends the present moment, reminding us of the city’s timeless soul.
Even the streets reflect this affection. Tiny wooden cat houses—some simple, others ornate—dot the sidewalks and gardens. These handmade shelters, often painted with care and adorned with hearts or paw prints, aren’t government mandates; they’re expressions of community love. Locals check in on “their” neighborhood cats as though they were lifelong friends. Some are even given nicknames with royal flair, such as patişah, a playful blend of the Turkish words for “paw” and “sultan.”
Expressions and idioms in Turkish also reveal this cultural closeness. Cats slip into the language as metaphors for curiosity, elegance, stealth, or mischief. One well-known saying goes, “Kedi buradaysa ciğer nerede?” or “If the cat is here, where’s the liver?”—a sly suggestion that something suspicious might be going on.
Historically, cats have also been seen as protectors of prosperity. In the Ottoman period, they were essential aboard trade ships, praised not only for their ability to control pests but also for the good fortune they were believed to bring. Even now, their presence is considered auspicious in many homes and businesses.
Through centuries of devotion, subtle symbolism, and shared streets, cats have become more than animals in Turkish culture—they are city souls, spiritual companions, and living art. Their legacy endures not through monuments or myths alone, but through the daily acts of kindness they inspire. Turkey does not simply tolerate its cats; it cherishes them as graceful reflections of a deeper truth: that mystery, beauty, and independence are not just admired—but protected.
