Mr Aksoy Does Not Like Cats

According to Mr Aksoy himself, cats were dirty, ungrateful and wholly unworthy of the sentimental attention that the city lavished on them. He said so frequently, usually while waiting at the ferry terminal in Kadıköy, and always in the tone of a man stating an established scientific fact. That he did so while holding a small paper bag was, as far as he was concerned, a coincidence that required no comment. I had been commuting on the same morning ferry for three years before I noticed the bag. Mr Aksoy, a retired accountant who taught evening classes in bookkeeping, occupied the same bench each day with the punctuality of a lighthouse. A grey cat with one torn ear would materialise at about ten past eight, and Mr Aksoy would glance at his watch with an expression of mild irritation, as though she were the one running behind. "Do not look at me like that," he would say to the cat. "It is not a meal. It is the leftovers of my breakfast, which would otherwise be thrown away. Practical economy, nothing more." The leftovers, I noticed, always consisted of a small piece of chicken, neatly cut, which seemed an unusual sort of breakfast for a man who professed to prefer bread and olives. One morning in November, the cat failed to appear. Mr Aksoy waited until the last whistle had sounded, then stood up with the brisk, businesslike air of someone who has been unfairly inconvenienced. He did not board the ferry. Instead, he walked slowly along the quay, peering behind crates and lifting the corner of a tarpaulin, and muttering that he had paid for a ticket and had no intention of wasting it. Twenty minutes later, a lady selling simit was happy to report that the cat had been taken to the vet by a fisherman, with, as she put it, "a small problem with her paw, nothing serious." Mr Aksoy's relief, though immediately disguised as annoyance, was visible from the other side of the terminal. "Typical," he said to nobody. "Cause a fuss, create work for everyone." He then spent the next ten minutes asking the fisherman, in great detail, about the cost of the treatment. The cat returned within the week, a little thinner and wearing a tiny shaved patch on her leg. Mr Aksoy examined her critically and pronounced the veterinary work "adequate". I do not believe he has changed his opinion about cats. He has, however, started carrying a second bag, for the days when she brings a friend.