There’s something magnetic about the presence of cats on the street—those curious eyes peeking from under café tables, curled tails on sun-warmed stone steps, and soft purrs that echo through marketplaces.
A new book, “Street Cats & Where to Find Them” by Jeff Bogle, offers travelers more than just destinations—it provides a roadmap for connecting with cats across five continents.
While most travelers learn how to ask for directions or the nearest restroom in a new language, Bogle makes sure he learns one specific word—“cat.” From Arabic to Japanese, his linguistic arsenal includes feline-friendly vocabulary. That one word has helped him discover hidden alleyways, parks, and plazas where local cats make their presence known.
This isn’t a new obsession for Bogle. He’s spent years letting his curiosity guide him through the winding streets of Morocco, seaside villages in Italy, and Tokyo’s back corners—all to meet cats with personality, presence, and just the right amount of attitude.
Instagram | owtk | Jeff Bogle's "Street Cats & Where to Find Them" guides travelers to connect with cats across five continents.
His new book captures over 20 global destinations—from the flower-filled Miraflores in Lima to the timeless ruins of Matera, Italy, where street cats are part of the scenery and, sometimes, the stars of the show.
In Istanbul, known by many as Catstanbul, cats roam freely through cafes and cobblestone lanes. Bogle returned from his trip there with thousands of cat photos and the idea that turned into this guide. His experience in the city sparked not just a book but a deeper appreciation for places where animals are treated as part of the community.
Some destinations shine for their abundance of cats and how naturally they interact with humans.
In Lima’s Parque Kennedy, cats lounge in flowerbeds and scale trees and nap in laps. Old San Juan in Puerto Rico offers a similar vibe, where cats move like locals between tourists and historic buildings. Bogle ranks both cities—alongside Istanbul—with a perfect “five toe beans” on his personal cat cuddle scale.
Not every location is picture-perfect. Tokyo’s Yanaka Ginza, once dubbed “Cat Town,” now feels more like a themed marketplace. Souvenir shops outnumber actual cats, a change due to urban development and efforts to manage stray populations. Bogle includes it in his book as a gentle reminder that cultures and experiences evolve—and so do the animals that live within them.
In Matera, Italy, cats appear less often and keep their distance. Still, the city’s rich history and food—like its distinctive pane di Matera bread—earned it a spot. Even Cairo, where the ancient reverence for cats has faded, holds moments of connection.
Bogle recalls spotting sick kittens and underfed mothers—a painful but honest glimpse into the lives of street cats in less nurturing environments.
Instagram | @nytimes | Istanbul welcomes travelers with friendly cats and unforgettable feline charm.
Bogle shares simple advice for travelers hoping to meet cats abroad. Get low—either in a crouch or sitting cross-legged—and let cats approach on their own terms. Avoid sudden movements, and don’t try to pick them up. Pack dry treats to offer in friendly areas, but follow the rules in cat cafés where food and behavior are usually guided by staff.
Spots like Taiwan’s Houtong Cat Village and Cyprus’s Old Town Paphos even have volunteer-supported feeding stations. The book offers location-specific tips on how to help: contact local rescue groups, offer food or support TNR (trap-neuter-return) efforts, and avoid interrupting a cat’s day unless invited.
In one touching moment, Bogle remembers meeting a tabby he named Saffron in San Juan. She curled up with his wife during a cruise stop, but they couldn’t take her home. That image—human and cat quietly connected—captures the spirit of his travels.
Stopping to connect with a local cat does something subtle—it shifts the rhythm of your day. Instead of rushing from one landmark to the next, you start to notice what’s actually unfolding around you. A cat curled up in the sun doesn’t just mirror the city’s mood—it pulls you into it, however briefly.