On Eid morning, the streets take on a different face. The scent of fresh mint and charcoal mixes with the sharper smells of sacrificial animals. Sidewalks become improvised stages for reunions, rituals, and gestures passed down through generations.
And amid all this — a striking absence: Where have the cats gone?
A disappearance that intrigues
In our neighborhoods, the cat is a familiar figure. It lounges on car hoods, sneaks along walls, begs for a stroke or a scrap of bread. But on Eid morning, they seem to vanish.
The feline silence contrasts sharply with the festive noise. Some locals notice it with surprise: “It’s like they know,” say the elders, pointing to darting eyes behind shutters.
Between instinct and tradition
Animal behaviorists offer a simple explanation: cats, especially free-roaming ones, are sensitive to changes in atmosphere. Noise, the smell of blood, the unusual crowding — all of it disturbs them. They prefer to retreat, watch from a distance, and sometimes stay hidden the entire day.
But as calm returns, as barbecues are lit and children run through the alleys clutching bones, the cats reappear. They hover near the grills, sniff the meat scraps, and silently join the feast — as if waiting their turn.
Invisible companions
Perhaps cats don’t flee. Perhaps they just watch us — from rooftops, between shadows.
They are the silent witnesses of our traditions, the keepers of our secrets, the soft shadows of childhood memories.
And when night falls, and a piece of grilled liver drops from a forgotten plate, they return. Quieter, but always there.
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