The Aristocats of Segovia

By Marie Boeufgras

Segovia teaches you to look up. At the Cathedral, at the towers, at the stonework that holds centuries above your head. But some of the city's most familiar inhabitants ask us to do something much simpler: look down.

A cat beside an old wall. Another slipping through a quiet corner. A pair of eyes watching the people who have come to admire the city. They belong to a different map of Segovia, one without opening hours or guided tours.

I have lived here for a year. With French and Guatemalan roots, I chose Segovia as my new home, and its beauty still moves me. As someone who loves animals and nature, though, I cannot separate that beauty from the lives unfolding within it. The cats around the Cathedral and in the city's less noticed spaces are part of those lives.

I think of them, affectionately, as Segovia's aristocats. In a city so closely associated with a queen, they seem to carry themselves with an appropriate sense of importance. They do not hurry to impress us. They occupy their little patches of stone as though no further explanation were required.

It is a lovely image. It should also lead us beyond the image.

More than part of the scenery

Neighbours have told me that cats have lived here for many years. There is comfort in that continuity: the thought that, while people arrive and leave, these small presences remain woven into the city.

But familiarity can make a living creature almost invisible. We get used to seeing a cat in the same place. A visitor takes a photograph; a resident recognises a familiar face. Then we carry on. Affection is a beginning, but a photograph cannot tell us whether there is regular food, clean water, shelter or someone able to notice when an animal needs help.

With winter approaching, I find myself thinking less about how picturesque these cats look and more about the cold nights ahead. Rain, frost and the possibility of snow change the meaning of an exposed corner. The place that looks charming on a sunny afternoon may offer little comfort when the weather turns.

Care that continues after the moment passes

Segovia already has people and organisations working on this. In July, Europa Press reported on the city's agreement with Gescofes to support sterilisation, veterinary care and the monitoring of feline colonies, alongside good feeding and cleaning practices. That work deserves recognition. My hope is that more of us can understand it, support it and help it reach the animals who need it.

I would love to see an easy path from concern to useful participation: knowing which organisation to contact, what supplies are needed and how to help without disrupting an existing care routine. A person who wants to contribute should be able to join an organised effort, whether through time, suitable supplies or financial support.

For me, lasting care means continuity. Feeding and water arrangements that are coordinated. Suitable shelter planned with the people responsible for each space. Veterinary support and sterilisation followed by ongoing attention. And enough people sharing the work that it does not depend on one neighbour always being available.

It also means listening. To experienced colony carers, to animal welfare organisations, to residents, to the people responsible for historic buildings and to the city itself. Clean, well-managed spaces and animal welfare are goals we should be able to pursue together.

A little room in our idea of home

Choosing a new home gradually changes what you notice. At first, you see the places you hoped to visit. Later, you begin to care about what happens there after the visitors leave.

That is where this small appeal comes from. I would like the next person who notices a cat in Segovia to pause a little longer. To wonder who is caring for it. To ask how they might support the people already doing that work. To turn a passing tenderness into something that can last through a season, and beyond it.

Our aristocats do not need a royal title. They need dependable care, and a place in the way we think about the city we share.

They belong to Segovia. Their care should, too.

Marie Boeufgras is a Segovia resident of French and Guatemalan origin. A lover of nature and animals, she chose the city as her home a year ago. This is her first opinion column for The Segovian.

Want to learn about local colony care? Visit Gescofes and ask how you can support its work.