Prologue

In a Beirut neighbourhood, on the intersection of Hope Street and Colonel Street, a pocket of space contains three buildings: Petunia, Karam and Daoud. In their apartments, roofs, backyards, terraces, balconies, basements, stairs, elevators, utility rooms and abandoned furnaces, between February 2013 and February 2014, 32 cats of the same lineage saw the light. By the end of this period, seventeen had died, two had lost an eye, another had lost two legs, another his personality, three had been tortured, one had eaten hallucinogenic mushrooms, still another choice caviar, four had been devoured, another had brought a theatre actress to the brink of ecstasy, while the last had committed suicide after long months of struggle with depression.

The first meeting between our main culprit and one neighbourhood resident occurred in Apartment 2B of the Petunia building.

Petunia building, apartment 2B

As George opens his door, holding the pink smartphone cover he bought for Sana to celebrate Valentine’s Day, he turns his head – he has an acute sense of hearing – towards a sound coming from the living room.

He turns on the light, scrutinizes the corners of the room, but sees nothing. He walks towards the blue curtains, lifts them, then turns around towards another noise, one emanating from under the big leather couch. A black-and-white cat dashes out and runs towards the kitchen balcony… then, from the balcony, jumps unto the mural cornice… and then inside the building, through a small window leading to the stairs.

George’s eyes follow the cat until it disappears... He then bursts out laughing and keeps on smiling for the rest of the night.

The next day, after a romantic dinner, he comes back home with Sana and heads directly towards the couch; but before he even reaches the room, the cat is already on the balcony.

Sana, already in the bedroom, hasn’t noticed a thing.

The third day, before going to work, George opens a can of tuna and leaves it on the floor in the kitchen. That same night when he comes back, he sees that the tuna has disappeared. The cat is standing there, a meter away, but as soon as George stretches his hand to stroke it, the cat, with its feline reflexes, vanishes.

On the fourth night, the cat allows George to pet it. Smiling happily, George names it Tom. Three days later, Tom meets Sana, who came to spend the night at her fiancé’s house. The young woman instantly expresses her disgust:

“There’s a street cat in your house!”

George explains there’s nothing odd about it, that he’s quite familiar with the situation, and that the cat is really friendly. However, this falls on deaf ears. Sana threatens to leave unless the cat, a potential hotbed of parasites, is expelled. An embarrassed George acquiesces, opens the balcony door, and puts the cat’s tuna dinner outside, before shutting it the moment Tom is out.

“And by the way, it’s a female.”

“Oh? You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I know a few things about those pests.”

George turns his head towards the balcony, thoughtfully.

“Would you have any ideas for female cat names?”

“Nope. I’ll let you mull it over. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

Frowning, George leans his forehead against the glass door. The cat comes closer. George kneels, so he’s on eye-level with the cat, and they stare at each other through the glass door.

“Ticky! I’ll call you Ticky!”

He fearfully looks behind his shoulders, then opens the door to give one quick and furtive caress.

A week later, George hurriedly heads to the kitchen for his daily meet-up with Ticky and finds her with a wounded forehead. He panics and calls a veterinarian friend to inquire about the right thing to do. He tries to keep Ticky still, but the cat vanishes with feline speed, only to return ten days later.

Petunia building, apartment 5B

Mona’s first reaction upon seeing a black and white street cat, with a star-shaped mark on its forehead, browsing through the living room trashcan is to scream and lunge at it, brandishing the nearest frying pan as a weapon. The cat, with its feline reflexes, vanishes after jumping on the mural cornice, then inside the building through a small window leading to the stairs. Mona is left on her own, stewing in rage, still holding the frying pan.

When her husband returns in the evening, she’s still nagging about the damn cat that had the audacity to soil her house and disrupt her routine. Nabil looks at her empathically and promises to deal with that pesky cat if it ever comes back.

Three days later, Mona surprises the intruder again, this time feasting on fish remains. Livid upon seeing the state of the floor, she runs towards the cat, screaming, but the it vanishes. That night, Mona updates husband, who gravely shakes his head in sympathy.

When the unwelcome guest shows up again, it finds a meal of exquisite poultry liver at the kitchen door, and approaches it without paying heed to the bait under the wooden box decked out with nails and shards, and held in balance with a big tin can. Mona, standing guard, pulls the rope attached to the can, but her movement isn’t precise enough and the can rolls just a little instead of being pulled out immediately, thus limiting the fall of the wooden box to a few centimeters ­– just enough to hurt our cat’s forehead, but without causing further damage – and not enough to imprison it.

With great speed, the cat leaves apartment 5B of the Petunia building for the last time.

Petunia building, apartment 7A

On the 18^th of February, Tarek finally returns home. As soon as he puts his suitcase down, he shivers. He frowns and heads straight to the living room and stares at the open glass door leading to the balcony. He walks to it and closes it. He then turns his head towards a sound behind him. Coming out from under the green couch, a black-and-white cat, with a star-shaped mark on its forehead, is staring at him… and at the now-blocked exit to the balcony.

Tarek makes a slight move, but the cat, with its feline reflexes, lunges towards the entrance door, which was left open, and disappears down the stairs.

Tarek bursts out laughing and keeps on smiling for the rest of the night.

As soon as he wakes up the next day, he opens a tuna can and places it on the balcony floor. That afternoon, the cat makes an appearance. Tarek approaches it carefully and the cat allows the young man to stroke him.

The two mammals instantly connect, and the cat’s visits become regular. A few days later, during one of their daily encounters, Tarek turns towards the cat and, with a big smile on his face, asks:

“Hey big guy, cat’s up?”

The cat answers with a meow, and Tarek’s smile widens.

“Yeah, you know cat is up in the hood. Haha… Cat’s up… Katsup!”

The cat meows then blinks.

“Yeah, that’s it! Katsup!”

Katsup, by then probably bored with the conversation, attacks his food bowl.

One day, the animal shows up with a wound on his forehead. When Tarek sees that, he frowns and worriedly calls a veterinarian friend for advice. After describing the predicament, he decides to leave it be and wait for time to run its course.

From then on, Katsup makes a habit of dropping by more frequently, sometimes even sitting on the couch next to Tarek, who lets him wholeheartedly, even during his video chats with the beautiful Adeline.

“Oh, I miss you so much… I’d do anything to be with you right now… I’d do anything just to lay my hand on your tummy to feel the kicks…”

“Soon my love, soon. But is that… Is that a cat behind you?”

“It’s a street cat who drops by from time to time. I present to you: Katsup!”

“He looks sweet. He’s a cutie.”

“I agree.”

A few days later, Tarek is packing his suitcase. He throws a few worried glances at the glass door. And, from time to time, goes out and calls “Katsup! Katsup!”, then comes back to his luggage, scratching his head, then looking out again.

Suddenly, his face lights up and he dials a number on his mobile phone:

“Mark? What’s up? Busy? Listen, you told me your shrink lives next door to my place, right? Awesome! Hear me out: there’s this cat who visits me every now and then, and I feed him… I’m leaving today for Paris to spend two weeks with Adeline… So, I’m just checking if you could show up every few days – according to your shrink appointments, of course – and put some crackers? …  Yeah, he comes in through the balcony; I’ll leave the door ajar… Yeah, on the seventh floor, it’s crazy, right? …  All right, brilliant, thanks a bunch, buddy. I’ll leave a set of keys for you with the janitor. Take care!”

Tarek hangs up and sees Katsup next to his empty bowl, looking up at him. The young man smiles:

“You’re in good hands now.”

Petunia building, apartment 2B

After a ten-day absence, Ticky decides to pay George a visit, and George believes this warrants opening the can of choice pâté that he bought for this special occasion.

“Hey, Ticky… We need to talk… Sana’s moving in pretty soon and she’s not a big fan of you, you know that… So, you need to raise your game, don’t mess things up, don’t tear stuff, don’t shed too much… You know, that sort of thing…”

Ticky allows himself to be petted, despite being a little tense.

“What do you know… Are you gaining weight? Looks like you’re being well-fed… Looks like you’re having lunch in every apartment in this building.”

A few days later, a horrified Sana explains, screaming, the reason behind Ticky’s physical transformation:

“Pregnant! It’s pregnant!! You kick it out right this instant, George! There’s no way it’s shitting us a litter in the closet! It’s either me or that cat, George, I’m warning you, me or that!”

George tries to negotiate, reason, beg… but Sana remains hysterically inflexible.

On Tuesday, the 28^th of February, at 8pm, Ticky lands on George’s balcony and finds her bowl empty and the glass door closed. She meows and scratches the door persistently. George appears and walks to the glass door.

“Ticky… my little Ticky… I… I don’t know what to say… I’m sorry… I would’ve loved to keep you both… But she completely flipped out and you have to understand she brings me a lot… She’s a pain in the ass, true… But if she leaves me, I’ll be alone… So alone…”

Ticky keeps on meowing and scratching the door. George stands up and punches the wall. The cat is startled. But soon enough returns to her meowing and scratching at the base of the glass door. George leaves the room.

When he comes back half an hour later, Ticky hasn’t moved and is staring at him through the glass door. George looks back and shakes his head apologetically. Ticky continues to stare at George, who is the first to blink. Ticky proudly turns away and stealthily heads down the cornice through the window and to the stairs.

Petunia building, apartment 7A

When Tarek opens the door of his apartment after a two-week absence, he puts his suitcase on the floor and hurriedly heads towards the balcony, looking around and calling: “Katsup! Katsup!”

But no cat answers his call. Tarek, disappointed, returns to unpack his luggage.

A few days later, on the 21^st of February at 9pm, Katsup finally reappears.

“Hey, lil’ cat! Happy to see you! Sorry for not keeping my promise, but I gave the wrong keys to the janitor! Ha, what an appetite you have… You must have starved in my absence… You look like you’ve gained some weight, though… Anyway, listen, my place is your place, you can hang around as much as you like! After all, one of your kind will definitely not interrupt my routine.”

Chapter One: Are You Certain It’s a Male? 

Petunia building, apartment 7A

After a brief hesitation, his eyes fall upon a hanger. He unhooks it with determination and shoos Katsup out of the closet. The persistent cat emerges from his hiding place, hissing, and swiftly makes his way out of the room and into the corridor, with his ears erect. Observing his retreat, Tarek follows closely behind, looking concerned and curious. As they reach the corridor, he bends down, extends a hand and gently pets Katsup. The cat’s body instantly relaxes, and a purr emanates from his throat.

Tarek smiles with relief.

Katsup trots towards the balcony, which is high above the bustling city streets, and offers a commanding view of the adjacent building’s transformed rooftop. In Beirut, these spaces are often converted into inviting verandas, perfect for basking in the warm summer breeze.

The adjacent rooftop veranda boasts a charming ambiance; adorned with vibrant potted plants, whose verdant leaves reach towards the sun. A cozy seating ensemble, plush cushions and a quaint coffee table, invites guests to unwind and savor the tranquility of the surroundings.

However, amid this serene haven, an unexpected resident often disrupts the peace. A small, fiery-haired dog, resembling a mischievous polecat, frequently takes up residence on the neighboring rooftop, its yapping piercing the air, a constant reminder of its presence. This audacious canine often challenges Katsup, barking relentlessly from its lofty perch, yet never ventures close enough to pose a real threat.

Undeterred by the yapping interloper, Katsup navigates, with measured steps, the balcony’s edge, casting occasional glances towards the neighboring rooftop, then lies down and sleeps in the sun.

Tarek looks at him with a smile then leaves.

Tarek reassures Mark with positive updates on Adeline’s pregnancy.

“What about you?” Marks asks, “How do you feel about becoming a father soon?”

“Don’t know. Leaving feelings aside for the moment. Focusing on the logistics.”

“No feelings at all?”

“Feelings would probably mean anxiety. So... as few feelings as possible.”

“And still not planning to move in together? After your long-distance relationship, you’re going to be a long-distance parent?”

Tarek smiles, “Why not? That’s unusual, but worth trying.”

His voice is tinted with a mixture of anticipation, uncertainty, and determination. His friend is amused.

Jumping from one subject to another, Mark, with a slight grin, raises the topic of Katsup’s presence in Tarek’s life, and asks if the feline has now taken up permanent residence.

“I don’t know, I think so. You should ask him, not me.”

Mark chuckles and comments about Katsup’s physical appearance, teasingly noting that the feline seems to have gained some weight since their last encounter.

When he’s gone, Tarek drops a quick look at the sleeping cat and shrugs.

The cat raises an eyebrow, jumps down from his couch, and starts meowing.

“I don’t know, Mark’s right. You’ve put on some weight.”

“Meow.”

“There’s no meow that holds. You’re supposed to be a predator. I don’t want to spoil you and turn you into an overweight lounge cat.”

“Meoooow.”

“I know this might not seem fair to you, but it’s for your own good. Trust me.”

He turns on his heels, leaving behind a disappointed pair of eyes.

“Meorowomerow!!!”

“I said it’s for your own good.”

Two minutes later, he opens a fresh can of cat food.

“After all, you’re not eating that much. And you’re not going out anymore. Where is all that extra weight coming from?”

But the doorbell interrupts Tarek’s musings: the new neighbors, a young French couple, introduce themselves and ask if they can borrow a corkscrew. Smiling politely, Tarek quickly gives them one. They leave and he goes back to working on the latest commercial for a Lebanese beer brand.

In the following days, Tarek glances frequently at Katsup’s round belly, often hesitating before opening a new can of cat food. One evening, as he’s discussing the cat’s unusual weight gain over the phone, he suddenly falls silent.

“Well... yeah... I’m almost certain he’s a male.”

After a brief pause, he adds:

“No... No, I’ve never seen his balls. You’re right, maybe it is a pregnant female.”

He hangs up, agitated, suddenly stands up and walks over to the other couch where Katsup is sleeping peacefully. Conscientiously, he starts examining the animal to determine its gender, despite its uncooperative position.

“Katsup... Um... How can I put this...? Can I see your... your... private parts?”

Katsup looks at him while he tries to lift one of his/her legs. After a number of failed attempts, the cat grows annoyed and jumps off the couch. Tarek follows him/her purposefully, on all fours. Then, after a few minutes of this slow-motion chase, as Katsup settles in another spot, Tarek manages to see her crotch.

“You’re a female... I’m screwed.”

“Meow.”

And she goes back to sleep.

Tarek’s behavior changes drastically from that moment on: he’s increasingly attentive and caring, takes extra measures to ensure Katsup’s comfort and well-being, even purchasing a cozy cat bed, which he places in a quiet corner of the living room.

And he puts Katsup on a special pregnancy diet he finds online.

He delves into various online articles and forums for guidance, learns about the stages of gestation, the signs of impending labor, and the necessary preparations to ensure a safe and comfortable birthing environment.

Katsup hardly goes out anymore, sleeping most of the time. As he’s having cheese and wine with Leyla, a close friend, Tarek asks:

“Is it because she’s pregnant that she sleeps all the time?”

“No, I think it’s normal for cats,”

For a whole week, Tarek’s conversation revolves mostly around the duration of a cat’s sleep.

“I can’t understand how they survived evolution with the time they spend sleeping!”

“Exactly,” Mark replies. “Now that they’ve survived evolution, they’re enjoying a well-deserved rest. By the way, when’s Adeline coming to Beirut?”

“Not until the baby’s born. I’m going to Paris around the 20th of April, and I’ll stay there for a couple of months. Until the birth.”

“And then you’ll welcome her here with a whole litter of kittens and a balcony full of old furniture,” Mark jokes.

“First, I love this couch, and I won’t get rid of it. And neither that nor Katsup is bothering anyone on the balcony. Now, what do you mean by a whole litter? Will there be more than one or two?”

Mark laughs. Then he answers, “It isn’t my decision, but to my knowledge, there are never fewer than four or five.”

Tarek opens wide and panicked eyes. For two days, he goes on asking people about the usual number of kittens in a litter, but never gets the answer he wants.

“Please let there be only one or two, Katsup. Please let there be just one or two,” he pleads.

“Meow.”

The big day is drawing closer; thanks to his online research, Tarek establishes that Katsup should give birth around the 5th of April. His anxiety concerning the number of kittens grows with each passing day.

“If there are only one or two, I’ll keep them.”

“Tarek, that’s not going to happen.”

“I said ‘if’.”

One evening, as the sun is setting, Tarek arrives home accompanied by Leyla. They step inside the quiet apartment, their eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. Tarek’s brow furrows with concern.

“Katsup? Katsup?”

But there’s no sign of the pregnant feline. They embark on a thorough search of the apartment, checking every corner and under every table. But after ten minutes of fruitless exploration, they must face the fact that Katsup has disappeared. Tarek is disappointed she didn’t choose his home for this significant moment, and Leyla teases him.

Suddenly, faint meows drift through the air, originating from somewhere nearby. The sound is elusive, like whispers carried by the wind. Tarek and Leyla exchange puzzled looks. But determined to find the source of this symphony of meows, they embark on a silent quest, their footsteps cautious as they search every nook and cranny.

They meticulously inspect every room, scan every inch of the balcony, and even cast a curious gaze towards the neighboring roof, listening intently for any clues. Confusion clouds their faces.

“We do agree it’s her voice, right?”

“I’m not familiar with cat inflections, but I can confirm it’s coming from somewhere close. It’s as if the cat were invisible.”

Their eyes sweep the balcony, trying to untangle the mystery. Curiously, the meowing stops every time they step outside.

“It fades every time we come out here,”

“I can’t believe you still didn’t get rid of this old couch!”

Returning inside, they settle back into their seats. Just as they do, the enigmatic cat sounds resurface.

“Okay, there must be a rational explanation.”

“Wow, Leyla mocks, we’ve really made progress.”

“It’s coming from outside, I’m certain now.”

Once again, they venture on the balcony. With perfect synchronization, their gazes shift between the old couch and each other.

“Look, she’s torn open the fabric to create a cozy spot inside the structure,”

“Err… it possibly was already torn,”

Tarek attempts to peer inside the couch, but after a few seconds, lifts his head, disappointed. Then, undaunted, brings a flashlight from his bedroom and illuminates the improvised maternity ward.

“Hiss,”

“Oh, okay, sorry,”

“So, what did you see?”

“A threatening pair of eyes.”

“We must have bothered her. Let’s leave her alone.”

“But I wanted to see the labor!”

“You’ll see your own in a couple of months.”

“That’s not the same.”

“You’re right. Yours will be better.”

As their debate lingers, Tarek playfully suggests popping open a bottle of Prosecco to commemorate the moment. Leyla interjects, reminding him the labor is not yet complete. But Tarek, undeterred by such formalities, dismisses his friend’s bureaucratic mindset and proceeds to uncork the bottle.

As the evening drifts slowly by, Leyla eventually succumbs to exhaustion and calls a cab. Tarek lingers on a little longer, informs Adeline of the joyous event, then finally retires to his room. A few moments after he settles in bed, he suddenly springs up, ventures out, and refills Katsup’s bowl before going back to bed.

The next morning, as soon as he wakes up, Tarek jumps out of bed and rushes to inspect the couch. He circles around it, carefully pulling up the torn piece of fabric. A faint “meow” greets his actions, but Katsup remains nestled inside her safe refuge.

“Still inside? Don’t want to come out?”

Tarek opens a can of food, but Katsup stays put.

“Okay, I must leave for work. I hope you’ll be out of here this evening,”

But neither that evening nor in the subsequent days does Katsup emerge from her secure sanctuary when Tarek’s around. And, even when he’s away, she only goes out to eat, or use the litter box, never straying further.

Tarek attempts reach into the depths of the couch several times, only to harvest a collection of claw marks. He tries snapping a photo with a flash, but to no avail. The image remains blank, while Katsup’s hisses grow louder with each failed attempt. Tarek shrugs off the disappointment, apologizes for the disruption he caused, and retreats back inside the apartment.

 Later that day, he goes out and returns with a roast chicken. As soon as he opens the door, Katsup cautiously pokes her shy head out from her hiding place.

 “Meooooow”

“Yup… Delicious things over here. Come and get some if you wish.”

Tarek leaves a portion of chicken on the opposite balcony. He then makes his way to his room, which is also connected to the main balcony. Katsup hesitates a little then tentatively approaches the bowl. As soon as she starts eating, Tarek swiftly exits his room and shuts the door between the main balcony and the living room. Katsup, though quick as lightning, barely makes it to the door before Tarek locks it, and quickly crawls to the couch, on all fours, with a flashlight and a smile.

Despite Katsup’s hisses and menacing meows, Tarek takes his time to snap several photos with the flash on, this time pushing his forearm deep inside the couch. He then examines the results, and a broad smile spreads across his face.

 “There’s only one! I knew it!”

He then opens the door for the new mother, relief washing over his face, but gets a dark glance and a brief hiss from Katsup in return.

Chapter Two: Are You Certain There’s Only One?

Two days later, in the early morning, dark rainclouds are casting a gloomy shadow over the neighborhood. The relentless downpour intensifies, creating a rhythmic melody as raindrops pelt against the windows. Tarek, observing the spectacle in silence, is startled by a sudden movement. Katsup is emerging from inside the drenched structure of the old couch, cradling a tiny black kitten in her mouth.

Tarek watches as Katsup crosses from one side of the balcony to the other. Then stares at the kitten, frowning.

 “Ooh, poor you. Is he dead?” he asks, with a mix of worry and curiosity.

Katsup remains silent, her focus seemingly fixed on a determined purpose. Tarek stands up, heads to the balcony door, and opens it. In the blink of an eye, Katsup makes her way there, leaving wet paw-prints behind. With graceful agility, she enters the living room, swiftly crosses the corridor, and reaches Tarek’s bedroom. There, she gently places the kitten on the unmade bed, transforming it into an impromptu nest. Tarek’s initial reaction is to take out his phone and start filming the scene, his face a mixture of amusement and disbelief. But Katsup’s already scampering back to the balcony, where she retrieves another, white-and-black, kitten.

 “Okay, we’ve got two. I guess I can handle this.”

But another kitten follows, almost completely black like the first one.

 “Three… Katsup… What am I going to do with all these kittens?”

And finally, a fourth kitten, black and white.

Tarek’s still filming, but his face is now exhibiting genuine concern.

“Four… Ok… At least it looks like there are no more left.”

Katsup nestles herself among the kittens, and starts suckling them.

“Alright, I have to go to work. We’ll figure this out tonight. Have a good day!”

“Meow.”

That evening, back from work, Tarek swiftly makes his way through the corridor. His steps are purposeful and tinged with anticipation. Then, as soon as he enters his bedroom, his eyebrows arch in surprise: the bed is empty.

Tarek embarks on an extensive search, meticulously exploring every room: the balcony, the living room, the kitchen, his own bedroom, and even the second one he uses as a storage space are all subjected to his unwavering scrutiny. He looks under every piece of furniture, opens drawers, wardrobes, and cabinets, checking each location at least twice.

Suddenly, he reaches for his phone, his fingers searching for Leyla’s name. But just as he starts recounting the turn of events, his eyes suddenly catch sight of something: in the storage room, one of the suitcases has a twenty-centimeter opening, its zipper agape.

With a wry smile and measured steps, Tarek approaches the suitcase, and, with careful precision, slowly eases the zipper open, revealing a sight that elicits a hearty laugh from him. Nestled inside is Katsup herself, surrounded by her brood of kittens and, obviously, moderately delighted by this unwelcome intrusion.

After a quick explanation to Leyla, Tarek hangs up, looking relieved and amused.

A little later, during their daily video call, Adeline requests a glimpse of the kittens, causing Katsup to be inconvenienced once again.

 “Meow,”

“Sorry, just passing by. See that big belly inside the screen? It’s my own personal kitten inside!”

“Merow”.

In the following days, the suitcase becomes the center of Tarek’s focus, and a routine takes hold. Regularly, he unveils the “caternity ward,” revealing the nursing kittens inside. Katsup, apparently resigned to this recurring spectacle, seems to have adapted to the opening and closing of the suitcase. However, an underlying unease lingers in her demeanor every time Tarek’s friends express their desire to cradle the kittens. While Tarek himself refrains from actively partaking in these feline-carrying festivities, he doesn’t stop them. Katsup tolerates these interactions with her offspring, looking inconvenienced and tense. These reactions to the visitors become an integral part of the unfolding scenes.

In the presence of his amused companions, Tarek marvels at the gradual progress of the kittens’ mobility. Over phone conversations, and animated discussions during their visits, he expresses his genuine astonishment at the these little beings’ journey to master the art of walking.

“Alright, it seems that you little ones won’t be walking before my trip to France. I missed your birth, and now I’m going to miss your first steps. But I hope you’ll understand that I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Meow.”

“Yes, Katsup, I know you understand. I was addressing the little ones.”

Tarek entrusts his friend Leyla with the responsibility of feeding the cats during his absence. Before he leaves, he carefully relocates the suitcase containing the small feline family from the storage room to his bedroom. He covers his mattress with a protective plastic sheet, leaves only the door leading to the balcony open, and closes the other doors to isolate that area from the rest of the apartment.

 The next day, Leyla comes over to feed the family, then works on reorganizing the living-room, placing candles and incense sticks, moving pieces of furniture around, and bringing in cushions from the bedroom. As agreed with Tarek, and because she lives with her conservative parents, she will use his apartment while he’s away, and more precisely the green couch in the living-room, for her sexual adventures.

Once again, Tarek navigates through the cluttered terrain, his efforts to corral the kittens occasionally hindered by their boundless energy and curiosity. Tarek’s expression oscillates between annoyance and amused giggling. The whole operation lasts more than an hour, accompanied by the non-stop barking of the small, fiery-haired, neighbors’ dog.

Finally, the kittens and their mother confined in the balcony, Tarek turns his attention to the daunting task of cleaning and disinfecting the room, cursing both the cats and his good heart.

The next evening, during his video call with Adeline, there’s a newborn baby in the woman’s arms.

“Chloe, this is Daddy. Do you remember Daddy? Da-ddy.”

“The kittens have started to walk!”

“Congratulations to the happy father,” Adeline playfully mocks.

In the following days, the kittens’ individual personalities start to emerge, much to Tarek’s delight; he regularly informs his friends by phone about the tribe’s psycho-affective development.

“There’s a shy one, always alone.”

Tarek and his friends can now discern between males and females, for some of the kittens. With this new data, Tarek decides it is time to give them official names.

The first to receive one is the shy kitten whose gender remains a mystery. Tarek decides to name it “Moustache”, because of the distinctive white moustache-shaped spot above its lip. A lively female kitten is temporarily named “Leyla” because Leyla has promised to adopt her and wants to take her home and get to know her better before choosing a permanent name. The toughest and most rambunctious kitten of the litter, a male whose playful antics and feisty nature make him stand out, is named “Popeye”. As for the last kitten, whose gender is also unidentified, a spirited debate ensues during a lively evening with friends. After a vote, the name “Vodka” is chosen.

As the days go by, Moustache, Leyla, Popeye, and Vodka grow, and explore their surroundings. They venture from one side of the balcony to the adjacent roof of the Karam building, and climb the wire netting, provoking the irritated barks of the ginger dog. On the other side, they use a small ledge to access the balcony of the French neighbors. Popeye and Vodka get along the best; they spend most of their time together, often playing football with the ping-pong balls Tarek gets them.

Apart from being the loner, Moustache also proves to be clumsy. Several times, Katsup ends up swatting him/her on the forehead with her paw, which always causes Moustache to sadly bow his/her head, with an instant expression of despair filling his/her eyes. The first time Tarek sees this, he is amazed. As soon as Leyla comes over for their Thursday night drink, he eagerly shares the feline updates.

“Did you know cats also discipline their kittens by swatting them?”

“Well, my parents never hit me under any circumstances!”

“Come on, you know what I mean! And besides, if your father knew about your numerous lovers, isn’t there a chance he will?”

Leyla chuckles. “Well, maybe not my father, but definitely my uncle, and my grandfather too. And all the cousins. You’re not totally wrong.”

As they continue their conversation, the doorbell rings. Tarek frowns.

“I usually never open when I’m not expecting someone, but with you here, it might feel awkward.”

When he opens the door, Anne, the French neighbor, is standing in front of him, with a perplexed expression. One meter behind her, a blue-eyed young man in old clothes appears to be waiting. Anne apologizes for bothering Tarek, then explains that she needs help. The man is a Syrian refugee who followed her on the street and asked her to marry him, hoping for a chance to live in Europe and have a better life. Taken aback, Tarek invites Anne to come inside and explains to the Syrian man that she’s already married. The man acknowledges this information and requests that Tarek ask Anne if she has a sister.

Finally, Tarek gets rid of the intruder, returns to the living room, and asks Anne what she’d like to drink. While he prepares her tea and Leyla comforts her, the kittens come out from their hiding spots and begin sniffing and prowling around her.

“Oh, they often visit our place. They’re adorable,”

“Not all the time,” Tarek interjects. “But I feel I’m in an Animal Channel documentary, and it’s fascinating.”

“What are their names? Jean-Luc and I…”

But her phone rings; she answers then explains that her partner’s home and that she must leave.

A few days later, another unexpected doorbell ring catches Tarek unawares. He opens the door and finds a young man who introduces himself as George, the neighbour living on the second floor. George asks politely to see the cats, explaining that he would’ve adopted the mother if his wife hadn’t stopped him. Understanding, Tarek allows George to meet the kittens, and “say hello” to Katsup who welcomes him with a hiss and a claw, but nevertheless lets him pet her offspring, while watching severely.

Before he leaves, George asks Tarek not to ever tell Sana about his visit, and even to pretend they don’t know each other.

One morning, Tarek awakens just as the kittens and their mother are returning from their daily expedition to the neighbors’ roof. He sees them and frowns: Vodka’s missing.

“Hey... Where’s Vodka? Did they fall?” he asks.

With determination, Tarek examines the wire netting between his balcony and the neighbors’ roof, provoking the barking of the little dog.

“Okay, it seems he/she isn’t stuck here. Let’s check the roof,”

Tarek leaves the apartment, and Katsup begins suckling the rest of the tribe. When the young man returns, looking both determined and sad, he approaches Katsup who’s done suckling and is now stretching on the couch.

“Are you sad? Show me your eyes,”

Katsup looks at him, and they both stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments.

“Oh my, you do look sad. Let’s take a look at the sidewalk around the building, the buildings, I mean.”

He goes out and only comes back an hour later, empty-handed, then embarks on a new round of research inside the apartment and on the balcony. Then, he calls Leyla and explains the situation. Katsup is now sleeping under the table.

 “You’re right. Let’s wait a couple of days, maybe they will reappear”

But the days pass, and nothing happens. After a week, he/she is officially declared deceased.

“The most frustrating thing is that we’ll never know if it was a he or a she,”

Leyla, present for their customary Thursday evening drink, smiles wrily.

“What about Moustache?”

“He’s definitely a male. I have seen… the proof. Oh, and about him…”

He tells her that after Popeye lost Vodka, his favorite playing partner, he instantly and carefreely replaced him/her with Moustache, who is now much happier and more playful, and less clumsy. Tarek also tells Human-Leyla how Kitten-Leyla is now closer to her mother.

“Males on one side and females on the other? Quite normal in our region, isn’t it?” Human-Leyla quips.

Their discussion is interrupted by a phone message Tarek receives: George, the neighbour, is asking to come and say hello to the cats. He arrives with a bottle of arak and special treats for the cats.

“George, Leyla. Leyla, George.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you.”

They gaze at each other, a little longer than is customary.

A few days later, while Tarek is smoking his shisha on the balcony, a bald and bearded man in his forties appears on the neighbors’ roof, spots Tarek, and walks towards him. Tarek lets go of the water pipe, stands up, and goes towards the man.

Separated by the wire net, the two men smile at each other, and exchange greetings.

“My name is Tarek.”

“Nice to meet you, my name is Mansoor.”

The little ginger dog suddenly appears too and starts barking.

“Hush, Blackie! Sit!”

The ginger dog named Blackie sits instantly and stops barking.

“He’s yours?” asks Tarek.

“Yes, she’s mine. They’re yours?” he asks, showing the kittens, still smiling.

“Yes.”

“They often come to our building. Frequently. Very frequently,” he says, smiling still.

“I know, I hope they’re not bothering anyone.”

“Oh, they don’t bother me, but you know people here,” the man answers, still smiling.

“What do you mean?” Tarek asks.

“Some of these cats are black, and people here don’t like black cats,” the man adds, smiling still.

“Oh…” says Tarek.

“Of course, I’m not talking about myself. But… you know people,” Mansoor says, still smiling.

But Tarek’s phone rings, showing Adeline’s name on the screen. He apologizes and goes inside to take the call. Mansoor’s still smiling kindly.

“Yes, honey, everything’s ready. And I called the travel agency: the special seat is reserved. Can’t wait to see you both!... Yes, I can’t believe how long it took to solve this passport issue!”

With a last look at the kittens, Mansoor turns and leaves the roof, followed by Blackie.

Chapter Three: Anyone Seen my Cats?