The Cats (& Humans) of Istanbul

 

I'm Dots on a Map, and this is my account of walking through Cihangir — one of Istanbul's most cat-obsessed neighborhoods — to meet the cats (kedi) and the people who care for them. Istanbul has a global reputation as a cat paradise: postcards of contented street cats curl around the web. But on the ground, that story is more complicated. What follows is a neighborhood tour, portraits of the characters (both feline and human), and a look at the real challenges faced by Istanbul's stray cats.

A stroll through Cihangir: postcard moments and everyday scenes

Cihangir is dense with feline life. On any walk you'll find cat houses built into the street, bowls of food and water on corners, and cafés that feel like cat cafes — literally and in spirit. The mood is affectionate and a little theatrical: cats weave between legs, flop on doorstep sunbeams, and often lead the way.

Along the route I met a tiny blind kitten whose face was impossible not to fall for. We bumped into chatty locals who stopped us mid-filming to tell stories about their favorite neighborhood cats. One cat's nickname was Schinka — Russian for “snowflake” — and another, the pickle-shop cat, quickly earned her own moniker: "Tabuk" (after chicken), because she insists on chicken snacks and can be "cute but dangerous" in the best way.

Little details that make Cihangir special

• Food and water are left out constantly; many people say cats in the neighborhood "never get hungry."
• Cats are treated like local celebrities: many have known humans who care for them daily.
• Street architecture is adapted for cats — small shelters and crates show up in doorways and on sidewalks.
• Cats in Istanbul are genetically diverse. Centuries of trade mean ships brought felines from around the world, mixing breeds and patterns.

The people: volunteers, shopkeepers, and full-time carers

Caring for Cihangir's cats isn't just a hobby — for some it's a life mission. Two people I met represent the different forms that care takes.

Ali — three decades of daily rounds

Ali has walked Cihangir's streets for more than 30 years feeding and tending the neighborhood cats. He treats them like family:

"I see the cats like my kids."

Ali does this work voluntarily, balancing it with his trade as an electrician. He depends on community donations that sit in boxes around the neighborhood to buy food and fund basic care. If you visit Cihangir and want to leave support, you can find him in the stairwell across from 21 Restaurant — look for the donation box for the cats.

Hilary and the Cihangir...Cool for Cats community

Hilary, originally from the UK, has lived in Istanbul for 18 years and has spent more than a decade in Cihangir. She shares her apartment with several rescue cats and does hands-on care for dozens more who live around her building. She also runs a Facebook group, Cihangir...Cool for Cats, where neighbors coordinate feeding, vet visits, and rescues.

Hilary pushed back against the glossy international image of Istanbul's cats:

"When I see films making these happy postcard videos of all the lovely cats, I could weep."

Her point is simple: while many cats are loved, a huge number are not receiving the veterinary care and neutering services they need. That burden often falls on a handful of committed residents.

The reality: love, hardship, and the need for systemic solutions

There are many beautiful moments of coexistence in Cihangir. But alongside those moments are harder truths: disease, injury, and chronic neglect affect many of the city's stray cats. Because Istanbul is a city of about 20 million people and a historical crossroads of trade, the sheer number of stray animals is enormous. Community volunteers and small rescue networks help, but they can't solve large-scale problems alone.

One recurring practical solution that residents and rescuers advocate for is a broad spay-and-neuter program. As Hilary put it, there is no reason why such a rollout shouldn't happen; it would save millions of animals from lives of hardship. Without widespread sterilization and accessible veterinary care, rescue groups and individuals will continue to patch gaps rather than reduce the overall problem.

Characters I won’t forget

• The blind kitten who loved to be petted and reminded me how resilient and affectionate cats can be.
• Tabuk — the pickle-shop cat who came in for food one day and never left, now the store's unofficial mascot.
• Ali, known by every cat in the neighborhood and walking the routes at all hours to make sure no one goes hungry.
• Hilary, quietly funding food and vet visits for dozens of cats and coordinating a neighborhood network to respond to emergencies.

How you can help

If this collection of stories moved you, there are concrete ways to help without needing to live in Istanbul:

• Support local volunteer groups and rescue networks financially.
• Encourage and fund community spay-and-neuter initiatives — they are the most effective long-term solution.
• When traveling, seek out small, community-led projects rather than only sharing glossy images that can mask harder realities.

For those visiting Cihangir: you can look for Ali in the stairwell across from 21 Restaurant and find the neighborhood group Cihangir...Cool for Cats on Facebook if you want to connect with local caretakers.

Istanbul's cats are a powerful symbol: they evoke warmth, charm, and a unique urban culture of coexistence. In Cihangir you see that affection in abundance — but you also see how care is uneven and often falls on a few dedicated people. The city is neither a simple paradise nor a place of uniform neglect. Like many complex things, multiple truths coexist: moments of sweetness and community alongside real needs for systemic veterinary support and sterilization.

If you love cats, visit kindly: support the neighbors who care for them, learn their stories, and remember that a postcard doesn't tell the whole tale.