Sounds like a screaming howler monkey outside...

So a new cat has moved into my alleyway, replacing the old black one that died. And thankfully so, because it would take a daily crap on our doorstep. Evidently because it didn't appreciate lil' Marley, my roommate Roz's medina kitty. The new cat, however, has this annoying proclivity to yowl away at any hour, particularly at bedtime. It's not easy trying to sleep when there's a medina cat in heat right outside your window. 

Medina cats have always been this mysterious curiosity for me. I was introduced to their existence less than an hour after I arrived in Tunis after nearly stepping on a dead kitten on the sidewalk. Traumatizing. (To Morocco's credit, I haven't seen any dead kittens here, compared to the occasional roadside corpse in Tunisia. But here the cats don't have to deal with Tunisia's incessant heat.) Tunisia was abound with abandoned kittens. One endearing kitten ran after me all the way down the road crying for love (or food? same thing), and then hung out by the door of the dorm for nearly 15 minutes after that. It had to be shooed away by our doorman, it wouldn't leave.

Anyways, back to Fessi medina cats... what exactly are they thinking when they glare at me when I walk by? It's indignant and indigent simultaneously. Like, "What the hell are you doing walking in my territory? I'll claw you!!" and "Please feed me/don't kick me!" at once.  They're the homeless and scorned, survivors by means of souk scraps and garbage, and are all big, dirty, and battle worn. And there are thousands of them here in the medina.

After living here for a while, you get to know some of the medina cats, even by name. At night at my host family's house, if you hang your head outside the kitchen window on the 2nd floor and cluck your tongue, Michel the tortoiseshell medina cat will appear out of the darkness, perched upon the medina wall, and mew at you. I see the three cats that hang outside my house several times a day: huge sleepy white one, all black one, and the howler.  At my school lives an ancient tuxedo cat whom I've affectionately named grumpy cat. Grumpy cat's fur is clumped and scraggly, and he hangs out in the garden hunched over with his eyes half closed, looking as I feel at 8 in the morning. Then there's Sara, the pregnant black cat that prances about Cafe Clock, the local ex-pat hangout. She feels privileged to ensconce herself atop your lap and then digs her claws into your clothes if you move an inch.  

But it's apparent the life of a medina cat is a hard one. On many an occasion I will see them kicked and menaced by mean men (probably the same ones that menace me) and then not only they have to worry about these disparaging attacks, there are other medina cats to deal with. I assume most of these territory battles wage on at night, since I hear most of them at 3 in the morning. Last time Marley happened to be sleeping with me under the covers, and suddenly blood curdling shrieks from the streets awoke both of us from slumber, and kept us up for about half an hour. Each time the cats would shriek louder, Marley hopped up and down on top of me under the covers, either from fright or excitement. I couldn't tell if he wanted to go join the fierce fight or was thanking his lucky stars he is now a pampered house cat with three mommies. With his incessant whining for food and tricky methods of getting into the garbage can, it makes you think you can't take the medina out of the medina cat. 

Me n Marley- luckiest kitty in the medina!