Beijing is known for its love of pooches. You see them on leashes everywhere, whether in the malls or the hutongs. But you rarely see any cats. That’s not because they aren’t there. It’s because they’re hidden. I never noticed them either, until the pandemic hit, and we all got stuck at home. From my sixth-floor window, my sister and I discovered a brand-new world: that of the cats who live on the hutong roofs.
Our dining room table is right next to the window, and every mealtime we would look for them. It’s become part of our routine. They rest during the day, barely moving in the shade, but at precisely 6pm, the cats emerge for dinner. The sleepy orange cat we named Oreo. Black-and-white Marmalade. A tabby called America. And a pair of kittens, hidden in the shade, too far away for us to see and name.
They come and go as they please, the common denominator between old and new Beijing. Only, unlike the city felines looking back at us through cramped pet shop windows of swanky malls, the roof cats own the skies.
Cats have lived in tandem with people since ancient China, where according to mythology, they first began to hate rats after the rodent cost the cats a spot on the Chinese zodiac. Since then, they’ve chased rats across the centuries, earning them a spot in both human households and hearts.
Stray cats aren’t the only roof dwellers. Within our view are two fat corgis living right next to the pigeon coop. We named them Bob and Dylan, and we have no idea why they live on the roof. It’s just another one of the hutong’s mysteries that keep us looking.
Life above the roof is only a small piece of the Beijing landscape. But most of us don’t look close enough to notice it. Over the last six months, we watched as they fight over territory, fall in love, and banish one another only to return every evening for a shared meal.
From our side of the Hutong, the cats can be hard to spot. Even our high-powered smartphones can’t zoom in close enough. It’s easy to take a picture of a cat’s swaying tail, only to realize it’s just another trash bag billowing in the breeze.
And when the lockdown ended and we stepped outside for the first time, the roof cats were the first faces to greet us. But this time, we were the ones looking up at them. There she was, the most beautiful tabby, staring down at me. Up close, her fur was mangy and matted. She was so scrawny, but still effortlessly regal. This was her turf.
With so much of our regular lives canceled, and so much regret about being trapped in the familiar, the roof cats showed us how lucky we are to be safe at home. By sharing their secret world with us, they helped us appreciate the beauty and excitement just outside our window.
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Images: Yancy Min (via Unsplash)