I have never considered myself a cat person. I always found them to be a bit recluse and perhaps a bit sly whereas dogs always seemed warm and friendly. While visiting the historic Hagia Sophia, an impressive structure steeped with history, where two religions found their home, a place that's been ravaged, rebuilt, and adored, and a site that no tourist would miss, a beige cat found her way near me. She slowly started to claw at my bag with her paws. She was friendly and comfortable in her surroundings posing with tourists and strutting around the archaic floors as if she owned the majestic place whose floors have endured hundreds of years of footsteps. Little did I know that she is one of the few cats who call the Hagia Sophia their home. Cats sitting next to mosques as if they were guarding them, cats watching earnestly from graveyards, cats following people, cats eating scraps, purring cats, sleeping cats, lazy cats, and small kittens bravely meandering around cars; they were everywhere.
My last day in Istanbul was a bit sad and surreal because of thoughts of leaving the city the next morning. While walking by an old bookstore outside Istanbul University, I saw a few cats sleeping while others were gently scratching the books and other items placed on a bench. Among them was a cute naughty little kitten that kept on jumping to catch a pair of socks but kept falling each time.
We stopped by an old mosque or camii near the historic aqueduct walls. I saw an old man performing wudhu inside the verdant courtyard. Outside the courtyard, next to an eerie graveyard, was a sleepy and lazy fat cat. He was by himself and there he lay as if he owned the camii. He peeked gently with one eye, stretched, yawned, and went back to sleep smug and comfortable as if he owned the city.
