Among the long shadows at the onset of dusk, you’ll find them. City or countryside, they’ll be there, by the roadside, hanging about the tavernas (sidewalk restaurants) or the kafenion (cafes), waiting ... for the night allows the feral cats of Cephalonia to feed, play, socialize, and breed.

These cats, descendants of the cats of the ancient Greek civilization, have persevered in a country where domesticated pets are not the norm, but the exception.

In keeping with their ability to survive with minimal human intervention, you will notice some physiological differences between our own domestic cats and the feral cats of Greece.

Antennae-like ears, much larger than those of their American cousins, allow these cats to better distinguish the sounds of their prey from the cacophony of sound in the villages and towns. Their large ears can easily separate the sounds of their prey from roars of young men on motorbikes gunning their crafts down busy streets, the honking of car horns as people make their way to the village plateias, or village squares, the clinking of glasses as people on their verandas (balconies) and back gardens, or in the tavernas and kafenieon, socialize and discuss the days’ events, seemingly oblivious to the small figures crouched in darkness.

On the fringes, you will see the felines creeping low to the ground, their large ears perked, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse, or, waiting for the kindness of an adult or child to toss them scraps from the table.

Huge eyes embedded deeply within a triangular head display perfectly round and black irises, as they retreat into shadow, torn between the need to sustain themselves and their innate fear of human contact. Reading these eyes, you can see a gamut of emotions, far deeper than the emotions that can be read from our own domestic cats’ eyes.

Whippet thin, these cats do not have an easy life. Competition for a limited amount of food is quite fierce, and the quiet of the deep night is punctuated by squeals and snarls as the cats fight for scraps to survive. They walk a tightrope with humans; torn between longing, fear, and need is expressed within the depths of the feral cats’ eyes.

To those cat-lovers who encounter them, however; your offer of food will not be accepted gratefully, rather, it will take the food only if danger does not seem imminent.

Danger comes in the form of young people racing motorbikes in their never-ending pursuit of excitement. Dogs also wander among the shadows, elusive and ready to fight for anything remotely edible. Children pose a special risk to these cats, throwing stones and sticks for sport, uncaring as to whether the animal may be injured. Cars are perhaps the biggest danger, and the cats stay close to the periphery of whitewashed stucco and concrete buildings, almost hugging the sides.

Greeks, even those living in large cities such as Athens, live much closer to the natural world than we Americans do. They are an extremely pragmatic people. Women can still be found shopping daily in the outdoor markets, toiling from daybreak to late into the night to keep her home and family safe, while the husband works, then relaxes in the male-populated kafeneion, expertly flipping his koumboloi (worry beads), while sipping ouzo neat and playing tavli (backgammon).

There is very little time for people to devote to attending to an animal such as a cat or dog, especially in the countryside, where animals are still used to work the fields and cats keep the mouse and rat population to a minimum.

For this reason, the Greek people rarely invite an animal into their home. But, before you condemn these pragmatic and hard-working people, consider this:

There are many individuals who love and care for these feral cats. Even while the feral ones are scrabbling out an existence among the ancient Greek ruins, the back streets and dumpsters all over Greece, and in the twilight along the fringes of tavernas and kafeneion, you will see cat lovers everywhere!

Black-clad village women set out scraps among the lush growth of bougainvillea which flourish in their yards, and where the cats find protection from enemies. Children can be seen feeding psari (fish) to a clutch of cats gathered beneath the twisted trunk below the graceful muted green of an olive tree. Men and women alike toss food to the floor at taverna tables all over the country, watching the cats’ nervous energy, as they assess the situation; then, hunger invariably wins out over their fear.

Once on an early morning walk in Athens, I was making my way with my mother up the narrow, scissoring side-streets of Monastiraki, the shopping district of Athens. The road leads to the beautiful Lycabettus Monastery, where we were going to pray and view a most incredible panorama as the sun rose upon the city. In small gardens all the way from the main road, up to the base of Mount Lycabettus, we viewed many people gathering the cats to their morning feeding session: ”tsss tss tss, tsipsina! Ela thou, ghataki mou!">

The kindness and respect of these Athenians as they called to the cats was evident in the sweetness of their tone. I found this sight most touching and vowed someday to write about these cats and the people who care for them.

The same thing is happening all over Greece, including on my home island of Cephalonia. In fact, as I write this, more and more Greeks are slowly taking these ferals into their hearts and their homes, caring for them and considering them a member of the family. Some only allow the feline a place on their veranda, but feed them daily and care for them, while others take the cat or a feral kitten into the bosom of the family, allowing it to live inside the home and according it treatment equal to a human child.

For more information on helping the feral cat population in Greece:

Friends of the Cat