High up in Kiafa, Hydra's oldest part, Catwoman had rented a charming house on Cat Alley. One balmy morning, she gathered a group of curious cats around her, ready to share her extraordinary story. So please read on.

The Cat Chorus and the Song of Memory
As I made my way to Kamini, I found myself on the inner path, unable to avoid crossing Cat Alley. I noticed a change in the usual late-morning sounds from a distance. It was the cats' opera choir, a group known for their nocturnal activities. Intrigued, I approached, only to find the entire choir gathered. On a stairway, elevated like a throne, stood Cat Woman in her regal purple attire, surrounded by her admirers. Their performance was a fitting tribute to an island steeped in memories—"Memory," the iconic theme from the musical "Cats" once inspired by Andrew Lloyd Webber’s visit to Hydra meeting it’s cats.

“Touch me. It's so easy to leave me
All alone with my memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is
Look, a new day has begun”
Written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and T. S. Eliot

"Memory! Memories! Who doesn’t have memories of Hydra? Only those who have not yet been here, of course. As the island cats call, all felines outside Hydra. Strange fellows, actually. But all of us others. The lead song of "Cats" can be heard on the island every night in its original version, the one that once inspired Andrew Lloyd Webber. With their unique dedication, the cats rehearse it repeatedly, preserving the island's memories without a conductor. Their performance may sound chaotic to an untrained ear, but it's a testament to their commitment. This was the part they sang when I captured their performance that morning. And Cat Woman, the guardian of their memories, looked satisfied.

High above all, Slingshot Stella sang. She has a fantastic soprano with a voice close to my favourite, Barbra Streisand’s. Her version of 'Memory' from the musical 'Cats' can give cats goosebumps, almost making them lose their pelt. The fellows I saw this late morning were most of our island's leading opera characters. Typically, they are spread all over Hydra, looking after the fishing boats and tourists dropping food from their tables. They also play a crucial role in keeping the island clean and free from barking dogs, which they take on with great responsibility. But if Cat Woman is visiting, it's more important. Besides, she always had luggage full of treats unavailable on the island. Her bottomless bag was enough for as many as Jesus' two small fish, feeding thousands, for that many are the cats on the island.

One thing stands clear as you look into Cat's Alley on the way up to Kiafa, which is not far from me. T. S. Eliot, the English poet, must have visited Hydra before he wrote "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats," and this is the Cat’s Alley. He might have visited the great Greek painter Nikos Hadjikyriakos-Ghikas in his villa before the war. Many other writers, such as Henry Miller, did it. I heard from the island’s grand signore, Munkustrap, the oldest, that Lloyd Webber sneaked into Hydra during the late 70s when he researched the cat realm before writing "Cats the Musical" in 1981. Without Munkustrap, the oldest, there could not have been a film based on the musical in 1998. He was an advisor to the director David Mallet and Michael Gruber, who played the younger Munkustrap in the movie. That the voice turned out so well is entirely Munkustrap, the oldest’s merit—Gruber had the voice, but the old technique was required. Munkustrap, the eldest, is now a retired cat, a brave 25-year-old, which is a lot for a cat, but his mind is clear, and his voice almost as strong as in his younger days.

So, there I was, listening to the feline opera choir, mesmerised by their performance. Each cat played their part with passion and precision; it was almost like watching a Broadway show. And right in the middle of it all, commanding the scene with grace and authority, was Cat Woman. She is not just a participant but a leader and influencer of the choir; her presence is magnetic, and the respect and admiration from the other cats are palpable.

Bouboulina, the red queen, was there too. She stood out among the rest with her flame-coloured pelt and flirtatious nature. She sang with all her heart, her voice blending beautifully with the choir. It was a sight to behold, and I felt privileged to witness such a spectacle.

The cats of Hydra, with their unique way of intertwining their daily lives with the grandeur of the arts, demonstrate a profound dedication. Their commitment to performing 'Memory' is a testament to their respect for preserving memories and honouring their rich cultural heritage. As I continued my walk to Kamini, the melody of 'Memory' lingered in my mind, a reminder of the timeless beauty of the island and its extraordinary feline inhabitants.

Flisabella, the beauty in the front of my picture, is the Prima Donna Absoluta, the ‘Glamour Cat’ of the island. Her powerful voice has made her a notorious figure, heard through the nights to the great horror of all neighbours. In the Hydra culture, where music is deeply ingrained, Flisabella’s voice, that of a coloratura soprano, is a rare and precious gift that captivates and terrifies.

Her signature performance is the Queen of the Night’s aria, ‘Der Hölle Rache,’ from Mozart’s opera ‘The Magic Flute.’ However, she interprets it in her unique way, which has become infamous across the island. Her cracked C7, two octaves above high C, is as legendary as it is feared. This pitch is known to shatter nearby windows and glasses, causing chaos and panic among the residents.

One unforgettable night, Flisabella decided to give an impromptu performance on the rooftop of a local tavern. As she reached the climactic high notes, her voice shattered the windows of several nearby houses, sending dogs howling and people scrambling to cover their ears. This chaotic event was also a testament to the power and allure of her extraordinary talent.

Wisely, the island’s restaurants have since stopped using crystal glasses after an episode a few years ago when Flisabella shattered several dozen during a particularly spirited rendition of her aria. The event became the talk of the town, and restaurateurs quickly switched to sturdier glassware to avoid further losses.

Flisabella, unbothered by the chaos she creates, continues to reign as the undisputed Glamour Cat. While known for their destructive potential, her performances blend beauty and awe, captivating all who hear her. Despite the fear her voice instils, there is no denying the allure and power of Flisabella’s extraordinary talent. Her ability to evoke such strong emotions is a testament to her unique gift and impact on the island.

Bouboulina, the red queen with a flame-coloured pelt, is a flirtatious female with a keen eye for me—or at least the treats I bring on my walks. She has a beautiful voice and enjoys singing "The Gumbie Cat" from her favourite musical, "Cats." Her singing talent never fails to entertain, drawing a crowd of curious onlookers.

She takes great pride in her name, which was given to her in honour of Laskarina Bouboulina, the heroine of the Greek War of Independence who hailed from Hydra. Despite this heroic namesake, Bouboulina is not notably warlike, although she does have sharp claws ready for action if the tomcats get too close. Or if anyone tries to snatch the treats she has received from me. Her sharp claws invoke a sense of awe in those moments as all hell breaks loose.

For instance, there was a time when she chased 'Trump,' a petty crook cat with ambitions far more significant than his intellect. Bouboulina chased him all the way to The Leonard Cohen Memorial, forcing the arch-villain to do something almost impossible for cats—leap into the sea to escape her sharp claws. It was a sight to behold as Trump, with his usually arrogant demeanour, transformed into a desperate swimmer, paddling frantically to evade Bouboulina's wrath. Trump holds the unofficial cat swimming record for the stretch from Kamini to Avlaki, as Bouboulina chased him that far, running along the shore. Trump holds the unofficial cat swimming record for the stretch from Kamini to Avlaki, as Bouboulina chased him that far, running along the coast. Three hundred meters in the record time of fourteen minutes and a few seconds, which would indeed have been enough for a gold medal at the Cat World Championships—a distinction Trump could surely do without. The alley cats cheered as their fiery queen stood triumphant on the shore, her eyes gleaming with victory and a hint of satisfaction.

Demeter, named after the ancient Greek goddess of the harvest, is a skittish snow-white princess with a flair for performance. Her talents are undeniable, and her mezzo-soprano voice shines brilliantly, especially when she sings ‘Macavity’ from the musical Cats in a duet with Bouboulina. Together, they create a mesmerising harmony, their voices intertwining like a dance, leaving their audience spellbound. Macavity is the only real villain in the musical Cats. And in secret, she dreams of being his mistress. What a girl!

But despite her incredible stage presence, Demeter is incredibly shy. Off the stage, she transforms into a timid creature, often hiding in the shadows. Her shyness is so profound that she can't muster the courage to blink at the boy she adores in the darkness, even when deeply in love.

One unforgettable evening, Demeter’s secret admirer, a handsome tomcat named Apollo, sat quietly at the edge of the alley, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. The other cats were bustling about, preparing for their nightly performances, but Apollo’s eyes were fixed on Demeter. She noticed him out of the corner of her eye and felt her heart race. Yet, she remained hidden, unable to step into the light.

Demeter’s love for Apollo was known to a few of her closest friends. Bouboulina, consistently the bolder of the two, tried to encourage her to make the first move. “You don’t have to do much,” she would say. “Just a little blink, a soft purr, anything to show him you care.”

But Demeter’s fear of rejection was overwhelming. She had always been a delicate soul, more comfortable expressing herself through art than words or actions. Her performances were where she felt free, her voice could soar, and her emotions could flow unhindered.

One evening, during a particularly moving rendition of “Macavity,” Demeter lost herself in the music. The notes came effortlessly, her voice resonating with a power that surprised even her. Apollo, entranced by her singing, moved closer to the stage, drawn by the beauty of her voice.

At that moment, something shifted within Demeter. She saw Apollo's adoring gaze and felt a surge of confidence. As the final notes of the duet faded into the night, she stepped forward, her eyes locking with his. With a slight tremor, she blinked—a soft, hesitant motion but filled with all the longing and love she had kept hidden.

Apollo’s face lit up with a smile, and he blinked back, a silent promise that her feelings were reciprocated. The other cats, sensing the moment's magic, fell silent, their eyes reflecting the newfound connection between them.

From that night on, Demeter began to find her voice on the stage and in her personal life. Her shyness didn’t disappear overnight, but with each small step, she grew braver. Patient and understanding, Apollo stayed by her side, becoming her confidant and supporter.

Their duet performances of “Macavity” became legendary on Hydra, not just for the musical excellence but also for the story of love and courage that unfolded behind the scenes. Demeter’s journey from a skittish princess to a confident performer who dared to love openly inspired all who knew her.

In the late evenings, when I pass Cat Alley on my way home, the echoes of their duet linger in the air, a testament to the transformative power of love and music. Demeter, the skittish princess, had indeed found her place among the stars, shining brightly in the hearts of those who witnessed her rise.

Growly, with his deep, resonant bass voice reminiscent of Leonard Cohen, is a real character. He is both a fierce pirate and a comic, the leading prankster of Hydra. His voice rumbles through the narrow streets, often catching tourists by surprise, but his mischievous nature, always ready to spring a surprise, leaves a lasting impression.

Every year, at the end of June, Growly is at the front and centre of the Miaoulia festival. This spectacular re-enactment of Greece's battle for freedom, a significant event in Hydra's history, features the siege and burning of the Turkish flagship. If Growly had been a reincarnated Buddhist, he certainly would have been Admiral Andreas Miaoulis, a kindred spirit.

One legendary prank Growly pulled off involved the unsuspecting guests at Omilos, the fancy seaside restaurant known for its elegant dinners, candlelit tables, and impeccable service. One balmy evening, as the patrons enjoyed their meals, Growly decided it was the perfect time for some fun.

Growly had somehow managed to get hold of a not-too-harmless firecracker, a leftover since Miaoulia. While the guests were distracted by the stunning sunset over the Aegean, he quietly slipped under the tables, weaving through the legs of the diners and the waitstaff.

With the stealth of a seasoned pirate, he placed the firecracker just under the head table, where the restaurant's owner and his esteemed guests were seated. Growly then retreated to a safe distance, his whiskers twitching with anticipation.

As the conversation at the head table grew lively, Growly's deep bass voice started humming softly, almost like a countdown. Just as the waiter approached with a tray of desserts, the firecracker went off with a loud pop, startling everyone in the restaurant.

The guests at the head table jumped in their seats, a few even letting out shrieks of surprise. Their desserts went flying, landing in the sea, and the once serene and elegant setting erupted into chaos. Growly's hearty, rumbling laughter echoed through the night amid the confusion.

But Growly's prank didn't stop there. The firecracker had been strategically placed to startle the guests and trigger a small cascade of water from a nearby decorative fountain. The guests were drenched in a fine mist, their surprise turning into bewildered laughter. Because of the heat, the mist was a gift. The restaurant owner, wiping water from his face, spotted Growly sitting proudly on a nearby wall, his eyes twinkling with mischief while meowing the theme from Cats. Just imagine a singing cat! Such a thing forgives most pranks, especially when the voice sounds like Leonard Cohen. Realising the island's notorious prankster had outwitted him, the owner couldn't help but laugh along with his guests.

The restaurant owner, wiping water from his face, spotted Growly sitting proudly on a nearby wall, his eyes twinkling with mischief while meowing the theme from Cats. Just imagine a singing cat! Such a thing forgives most pranks, especially when the voice sounds like Leonard Cohen. Realising the island's notorious prankster had outwitted him, the owner couldn't help but laugh along with his guests.

From that day on, the story of Growly's restaurant prank became a favourite among local cats and visiting ones alike. It was said that the restaurant kept a special table reserved for Growly, complete with a small fish dish, as a token of appreciation for the memorable night.

And so, Growly, the pirate prankster with a voice like Leonard Cohen, continued to roam the streets of Hydra, leaving a trail of laughter and mischief in his wake. His antics were a reminder that even in a place as historically rich and serene as Hydra, there was always room for a bit of fun and a good-hearted prank.

Ellie, the wise and welcoming kitten hiding in the Apothiki window, is a nice fellow who was the first in the flock to challenge stereotypes and accept the immigrant Flisabella. The opposite of a racist and xenophobic, Ellie represents hope for the future. She preferred to describe her fur, which I would call blonde, as ‘cream’ or ‘fawn’ due to all the foolish stories men loved to tell about blondes.

To take the edge off these chauvinistic jokes, she collected blonde jokes where the blonde had the last laugh. Her favourite was the one about a brown Chocolate cat, a red Tabby, and a blonde Fawn lapping milk together and talking about their fur.

Chocolate said, "I always get so many compliments for my fur; people say the colour makes me look so intelligent."

The red Tabby said, "I always hear that my fur makes me look passionate and energetic."

The blonde Fawn laughed and said, "Well, when people see me, they always ask if I'm a natural blonde."

The other two looked at her in surprise and asked, "Why do they ask that?"

The blonde Fawn smiled and replied, "Because I always know the answers to all the questions they ask."

That’s precisely how Ellie was – a bright cat who soaked up knowledge like a sponge in water. Her intelligence, which was as radiant as her welcoming nature, made her a beloved member of the feline community on Hydra. She also had a light soprano voice, a testament to her multifaceted personality.

Ellie’s story reminds us that true intelligence and kindness are found in the most unexpected places. Despite her small size and seemingly delicate appearance, she was a powerhouse of wisdom and compassion. Always ready to extend a paw to newcomers and spread a little joy with her clever humour, she touched the hearts of all who knew her.

Jennyanydots—the old Gumbie cat—is known for her peculiar habits. Unlike others who might hunt and eat the mice and cockroaches, Jennyanydots has a different approach. By day, she seems lazy, lounging around and appearing to do nothing. But come nightfall, she springs into action. Jennyanydots takes on the role of a strict yet caring teacher, guiding the mice and cockroaches in music, crocheting, and tatting. Under her watchful eye, they channel their energy into helpful and creative tasks rather than causing destruction.

Jennyanydots rules the mice and cockroaches with a firm but fair paw, ensuring they contribute positively by cleaning the Alley and engaging in constructive activities. The result is a remarkable transformation when you visit the Alley and find it remarkably clean. Her efforts have paid off, and the usually troublesome creatures have become diligent workers, inspiring all who witness the change.

While many focus on eradicating these pests, Jennyanydots’ method maintains a delicate balance in the ecosystem, proving the wisdom of her unique approach. The Alley thrives under her unconventional but effective teaching and her legacy as the wise and resourceful old Gumbie cat endures, leaving us with a sense of appreciation for her wisdom.

Sherlock, also known as ‘Secret Claws,’ is a master of stealth, often sneaking in from the rear. He is the Hydriatic Napoleon of crime-fighting, though he is equally notorious for his food thievery. His arch-nemesis, a cat whose cunning and malevolence rival Professor Moriarty from the Sherlock Holmes tales, is a constant thorn in his side. This black, notorious cat can often lurk at the back of the scene, always scheming and plotting. The thrill of the chase is always heightened by the cunning of this black cat, making Sherlock's adventures all the more exciting.

Despite his challenges, Sherlock is not alone in his endeavours. His loyal companion, who follows him like a shadow, is aptly named Watson. This faithful friend, whose loyalty to Sherlock is unwavering, is always at Sherlock’s side, ready to assist in any way he can, even if it means getting his paws dirty. Watson's loyalty is not just a trait; it's a bond that runs deep, strengthening their friendship in the face of adversity.

Sherlock’s adventures are the stuff of legend on Hydra. By day, he is a seemingly ordinary cat, lounging around and watching the world go by. But by night, a mysterious transformation takes place, turning him into a detective extraordinaire, solving mysteries and bringing order to the chaotic world of alleycats. His sharp claws and even sharper mind make him a formidable opponent to any feline miscreant.

Sherlock and Watson make an unstoppable team together. Their bond, forged in the fires of countless adventures, is unbreakable. They navigate the narrow streets and hidden corners of Hydra, always looking for trouble. Whether thwarting a food heist or unravelling a complex plot by his arch-nemesis, Sherlock's quick thinking and Watson’s unwavering support ensure justice prevails.

As you wander through the streets of Hydra, keep an eye out for these two brave cats. You might glimpse Sherlock’s sleek form darting through the shadows or Watson’s determined trot as he follows his friend on another daring escapade. And if you’re lucky, you might even witness them in action, bringing another adventure to a successful close.

Mr. Mistoffelees, a young tuxedo cat, is not just any ordinary feline. With a sleek black and white coat and an aura of mystery, he possesses magical powers that are the stuff of legends. Each day, as the sun sets over Hydra, it's whispered among the alley cats that Mr. Mistoffelees orchestrates this daily marvel. With a flick of his paw and a twinkle in his eye, the sky transforms from day to night under his magical influence.

In the quiet twilight hours, Mr. Mistoffelees can often be found dancing with mice, his movements graceful and mesmerising. Enticed by his charm, the mice join the dance, unaware of their peril. Though he loves to dance, Mr. Mistoffelees also loves to feast on his tiny partners once the dance ends, a reminder of the danger that lurks beneath his playful facade.

His name, a playful twist on Mephistopheles, or Mephisto, the demon from German folklore, suits him well. Just as Mephistopheles tempted Faust, Mr. Mistoffelees tempts fate and flirts with the dark arts. Though not entirely understood, his powers are feared and revered by those who know him. His ability to conjure and enchant is unmatched, making him a figure of both awe and suspicion, a mystery that intrigues all who encounter him.

Despite his dark undertones, Mr. Mistoffelees has a playful side. His love for dance and mischievous nature often lead him into humorous situations, delighting those lucky to witness his antics. But beneath the charm and the magic, a cunning mind is always at work, plotting his next move in the grand game of alley life.

As you explore the alleys of Hydra, you might catch sight of Mr. Mistoffelees, his eyes glinting in the fading light. Watch closely; you may see him set the sun or perform one of his magical feats. But be wary, for behind the enchanting exterior lies a cat of great power and even greater mystery, one who dances on the edge of darkness, much like the demon Mephistopheles himself, a mystery that begs to be unravelled.

Red-Striped Mouses is a notable character. She hails from the house at the corner, a talkative fellow with a flair for storytelling. Her stories, as grand as Munkustrap from the musical Cats, have made her the alley's main narrator. As my primary source of information, she keeps me well informed and connected to the alley's happenings, always keeping me engaged and eager for more.

Red-Striped Mouses has a rich heritage. Without her great-great-great-great-grandfather, the world would have missed out on the poems of T. S. Eliot and, indeed, the musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber. What a shame that would have been. Her ancestral legacy in literature and theatre is a badge of honour she wears with pride, which commands our utmost respect.

Mouses is meticulous about her appearance, particularly her hairstyle. She takes excellent care of the curl in her forehead, ensuring it is always perfectly coiffed. Her idol is none other than the glamorous film star Rita Hayworth. Mouses emulate the red-haired actress's iconic walk, a sashay that never fails to captivate the naughty boys of the alley. Her meticulous attention to detail in her appearance leaves us all impressed and intrigued.

Her narration brings the alley's stories to life, weaving tales of heroics, mischief, and everyday adventures. She narrates with a voice that can command attention and a knack for capturing the essence of every moment, ensuring that the alley's history and happenings are never forgotten. Her stories, whether about the daring escapades of the alley cats or the heartwarming acts of kindness among the alley's residents, are not just entertaining; they are a vital part of the community's fabric, keeping the alley's spirit alive.

As she struts through the alley, her red stripes gleaming in the sunlight, she embodies a perfect blend of elegance and charisma. Her presence reminds us of the rich tapestry of characters making up this unique world corner. So, the next time you hear a captivating tale or a piece of alley gossip, know it likely came from the eloquent Red-Striped Mouses, the alley's bard and historian.

Skitterlegs, the alley’s unique environmentalist, is a hyperactive orange tabby, always full of energy and constantly on the move. Her mission is not just essential; it's crucial. Skitterlegs vigilantly monitors donkey droppings, meowing non-stop until the donkeyman comes to pick them up. Thanks to her relentless efforts, the streets of Hydra remain clean and inviting.

Donkeys and mules hold Skitterlegs in high esteem. These gentle creatures often feel embarrassed about what they leave behind, especially when their drivers neglect to clean up after them. Skitterlegs' dedication saves them from this shame, making her a "Good Cat" in their eyes.

With her bright orange coat and unwavering spirit, Skitterlegs is a familiar sight in the alleyways. Always on the move, darting here and there, she ensures every corner is free of donkey droppings. Her persistent meows are a rallying call, urging the donkeyman to fulfil his responsibilities.

Skitterlegs’ environmental efforts extend beyond mere cleanliness. She embodies a spirit of responsibility and care for the community, setting an example for animals and humans. Her actions are a constant reminder of the importance of maintaining and respecting shared spaces, significantly contributing to the community's well-being.

Her hyperactivity and dedication have made Skitterlegs a beloved figure in the alleys. She is not just a cat on a mission; she is a symbol of the positive impact one can have through determination and care. As she continues her rounds, ensuring the streets are clean and the donkeys and mules are spared from embarrassment, she significantly contributes to the vibrant tapestry of characters that make Hydra's alleys so special, inspiring others to follow her lead.

So, next time you notice the pristine streets of Hydra, think of Skitterlegs, the tireless orange tabby whose efforts keep the environment spotless and the community proud.

Skitterlegs' antipode, Grimeclaw, always sporting dirty paws, is one half of the mischievous duo of trash-can robbers. His partner in crime is the tabby Junkwhisker, a cat whose love for rummaging through containers is matched only by Grimeclaw’s.

Junkwhisker, the other half of the littering cats, specialises in open trash cans and spreads their contents all over the street. Together, they are the bane of the alley’s cleanliness, undoing all of Skitterlegs' hard work in mere minutes. Their actions create a mess and attract unwanted attention, often leading to confrontations with the local authorities.

Junkwhisker's speckled fur makes him look clean despite all the gunk that sticks to him from rummaging through old food containers. This habit, a nuisance that has dramatically increased in recent years, is becoming more prevalent even on Hydra, where more pre-packaged and environmentally harmful products are sold. Everything gets burned at the city's illegal dump, with the paper boxes and plastic packaging certainly licked clean by our trash-can robbers but still harmful to the environment.

In many ways, they resemble the classic comedic duo of Laurel and Hardy. Grimeclaw, with his hot temper, frequently finds himself exasperated with the fumbling Junkwhisker. Despite their constant bickering, they create uproarious chaos wherever they go, leaving a trail of overturned trash cans and scattered debris.

One moonlit night, the pair set their sights on a particularly promising target—a trash can outside a popular fish restaurant in the harbour. Grimeclaw, with his usual determination, pounced first, his paws deftly flipping the lid. As he began to sift through the contents, Junkwhisker attempted to assist but only knocked the can over, sending fish scraps and packaging flying in all directions.

“Junkwhisker!” Grimeclaw hissed, his fur bristling with frustration. “Can’t you do anything right?”

Junkwhisker, ever the optimist, shrugged and picked up a giant fish head. “Look, Grimeclaw! Dinner is served!”

Their escapades, though infuriating for Grimeclaw, often ended in laughter. The pair’s antics were a source of endless amusement for the other alley cats, who gathered to watch the slapstick show, their laughter echoing through the alley. Despite their messiness, Grimeclaw and Junkwhisker were inseparable, bound by their love of adventure and insatiable curiosity.

In the rare moments of peace, when the trash cans were emptied and the alley was quiet, Grimeclaw often reflected on their partnership. As much as Junkwhisker drove him crazy, he couldn’t imagine life without his bumbling friend. They were a perfect pair, balancing the other’s flaws with their unique strengths.

So, as the alley cats of Hydra drifted off to sleep, they knew that come morning, the familiar sounds of Grimeclaw’s grumbling and Junkwhisker’s cheerful chatter would once again echo through the streets, bringing a touch of humour and a dash of mischief to their everyday lives.

Koalemos, the dumbest cat on Hydra, was in love with little Ellie, but his affection was unrequited. The well-mannered and kind-hearted kitten behaved politely and didn't hiss or tell him to go to Nikos' dog kennel above Hydra, a fenced-in hell under the scorching sun meant for three hunting dogs and indeed no place for a cat. Moreover, no cat lasted long in that half-starved company if they happened to get inside the chicken wire. Koalemos interpreted her silence as a chance, thinking the door was slightly ajar. He just needed to find a way to open it wide. However, his voice wasn't strong enough among these trained voices; if anything, it risked closing the door for good if he tried to take the stage. So, he had to bring out the heavy artillery.

Koalemos, living up to his namesake, the dumbest of the Greek gods, the God of stupidity and foolishness, was determined to win Ellie's heart. His sluggish brain had already celebrated victory in advance, and in his imagination, he saw himself springing up and down with a daring final jump, landing at Ellie's feet.

"What I lack in brains, I make up for in legs," thought the fool who had an idea that usually worked on girls. He invited Ellie to show her a rare plant that only grew at the highest treetops—a rare lily. He had stolen one from the Hydrea hotel in the harbour. They could afford exclusive plants in the lobby by charging 1200 euros per night for a room. To be sure, Koalemos took two, one for Bouboulina as well. He nestled the flowers into his chest fur so they were barely visible.

Three such trees grow on Hydra, right next to Vlychos Road, where it briefly changes to Nikos Hadjikyriakos-Ghikas Street, the only recognition this great Hydriot has been awarded by his island. Across the street from the Old Folks' Home, three gigantic eucalyptus trees stretch almost to the cat heavens. Climbing up one of them was more than any other foolish cat had dared. Now it was time. As a chaperone, Ellie demanded to bring Bouboulina at a small price. "Maybe she'll fall for me too," thought the idiotic cat.

Climbing high is an old trick known to fire departments worldwide. Love-struck cats and daring fools often require rescue when they climb too high and can't get down. If the fire truck's ladder reaches, that is. There are a few small red fire trucks on Hydra, but without ladders, just a long hose and a water tank, so spraying a cat down works until the poor creature hits the ground. From that height, not even seven lives are enough. So, the fool Koalemos took the girls to the trees a mile and a half away. Along the way, he boasted about his past exploits, claiming there wasn't a tree or cliff he hadn't climbed. The well-mannered Ellie smiled politely while the older and more experienced Bouboulina discreetly snorted.

While walking, Koalemos claimed in his stories that he had climbed up and down the eucalyptus tree several times. He had taken a trip the day before to scout, but he couldn't see beyond halfway up from the ground. Laziness defeated his little common sense, so he didn't bother with a test climb. Once there, he got a quick good-luck hug from both girls, enough to erase the last traces of foresight in the mists of dreams.

Koalemos boldly climbed up, and at first, everything went better than he had dared to hope. He was up as far as he could see from below in no time, and the broad trunk still provided good support. Another third went just as smoothly, but then the crown split into several trunks, and Koalemos had to choose. Instead of pausing to check the trunks and the best path, he continued recklessly as if the girls below had each set a timer. He decided on the thickest trunk, which leaned towards Kiafa but looked like a highway in the air.

The trunk curved here and there but continuously upward, but after a while, Koalemos realised the trunk he had chosen didn't reach the top; it seemed the one next to it did. He didn't want to return to where the tree split, so laziness took over. A side branch reached towards the other trunk, and if he just jumped a meter or two, Koalemos would soon be on the right path up. Carefully, he ventured out on the increasingly slender branch until it barely supported him. He took a good leap, hoping the branch would act like a catapult and fling him over a couple of meters of air and small twigs. It worked, sort of. Koalemos did get a boost, but an uncontrolled one, landing in a fork above. Panic set in as he realised his predicament. Even a feeble mind can freeze when panic strikes. Suddenly, the branch neither held nor broke, and Koalemos was stuck as if glued, unable to move. He remained there helpless until the girls far below began to wonder. They couldn't see him through the leaves and branches, but he would be in the tree’s crown if he hadn't come down. This situation put Koalemos in physical danger and jeopardized his chances with Ellie, as his foolish actions made him appear even more incompetent in her eyes.

Ellie, in her innocence, could only hope for the best. "Maybe he's already in heaven," she said, her pure heart shining through.

"To get there, he first has to fall and kill himself. And that boy isn't going there anyway; he's too bad a cat for that. More likely, he's heading for the underworld," said Bouboulina coolly, pointing her whole paw towards the ground covered in eucalyptus leaves.

Bouboulina, understanding the problem, immediately mobilised the community for help. She had been through this before. A suitor had done the same thing years ago and had to be rescued by an animal-loving sailor used to climbing high masts. She sent Ellie to fetch the neighbour trained at Hydra's Naval Academy, who ran a water taxi. To be sure, they also brought Bill, the fire chief, and loaded a bunch of ladders onto a mule. Trailing behind were the deputy fire chief, three men from the volunteer fire brigade, and a dozen curious onlookers, all ready to lend a hand.

"If we stacked this gang on top of each other, Koalemos would be down in no time," Bouboulina said dryly.

"Unless the human tower collapses, of course," said Ellie, recoiling at the thought.

"The ladders should reach the clouds," said the fire chief. But he was wrong, as the rickety ladder reached only four meters below the terrified Koalemos. The usually loud-mouthed rascal hadn't said a peep in over an hour.

"This is tricky," said the fire chief.

"Tricky is the word," said his deputy, kicking among the leaves on the ground.

The fallen yellow leaves gave Ellie an idea.

"Maybe he could float down like a leaf," said Ellie.

"Then we'll have to wait until autumn," said the fire chief maliciously, as he was a dog person, liked hunting, and thought Hydra's cats were a nuisance. One less was just fine by him. That could have been the end of it. He prepared to take down the ladders and leave Koalemos to his fate. Maybe the foolish cat would eventually muster the courage to crawl down the way he had come up. But that wasn't possible because Koalemos had jumped there. But the fire chief didn't know that.

"He could use a parachute," said Ellie, recalling a game where one of her cones, representing a little kitty, had a parachute made from a discarded handkerchief and some loose threads. It had worked perfectly, and the cone had slowly descended to the ground several times. Eventually, Ellie got bored, and the last time the cone went without the handkerchief, it broke several of its scales. She knew what she was talking about.

"How would that work?" the deputy fire chief asked, entranced. He was an animal lover and not as brutal as his boss.

"We sew a parachute and climb up the ladder, bringing a long pole and handing it to Koalemos." Ellie had visited the Old Folks' Home several times and knew they had several sewing machines, old rags in abundance, balls of string, and skilled old ladies. So it was decided, and the deputy fire chief marched across the street to the Old Folks' Home. They had noticed the commotion and were watching curiously. No one asked them for advice; their time was supposedly over. But now they had a task. The fire chief was an authority with a stylish uniform and a shiny badge on his hat. The matron took charge, assigning tasks: sew a parachute from a piece of light silk large enough for a five-kilo cat, cords from string, and a fabric ring for Koalemos to crawl into, allowing him to float safely to the ground. After a while, the fire chief understood the plan and didn't want to miss the chance to bask in the glory of saving a cat. If it went wrong, he could always blame his deputy—the privilege of a poor leader.

The old ladies didn't take long to sew a cone, twist the strings, attach them to a padded fabric ring, drink two cups of coffee, and chat with the fire chief, who played patient. An hour, more or less, didn't make much difference. After all, it was just a cat hanging in the tree. Meanwhile, his volunteers had gotten hold of the island's longest boat hook.

None of the volunteers was willing to climb the rickety ladder steeply, leaning against an invisible branch high up in the silver-green foliage, and risk their lives for a cat when football was on a big-screen TV in the harbour that evening. Never!! It fell to the animal-loving deputy to climb up with the heavy boat hook in one hand.

"One hand for the cat and the other for life," he muttered as he painstakingly made his way up until he could see Koalemos anxiously watching his movements three meters above. The deputy extended the boat hook, hoping the cat would understand, although he knew Koalemos was one of the less gifted. That was true, but survival instincts kicked in, and after numerous gestures and signals from the deputy, Koalemos got the ring around his waist. So far, so good, but going from thought to action was another matter. Throwing oneself into the air was not a natural move for a dim-witted creature. It took another half-hour of coaxing and prodding without Koalemos moving even his tail, which he had wrapped around the branch like a sort of seatbelt, a last resort. Then, the deputy grew tired and firmly pushed the boat hook against the branch above. A sharp up-and-down motion sent the branch bouncing back, and Koalemos was flung into the air. In a wide arc, the cat flew out into the open air, legs spread and tail like a rudder steering towards an unknown destination, heaven or hell.

The old ladies' parachute worked perfectly, and at a safe speed, Koalemos floated down towards Bouboulina and Ellie, who promptly caught him. It was as close to a hug from these two girls as Koalemos would get, but he had survived.

Koalemos' flight became known as the "Event" and still is. Unfortunately, I wasn't there, but one of the old men from the Old Folks' Home captured Koalemos in a blurry photo. The box camera was almost as old as the man, and the picture left much to be desired. It could have been any cat captured in black and white. Koalemos was probably glad about that. But the happiest was probably the deputy, who got a mention in two of the capital's newspapers, a note with his picture and title. It certainly strengthened his chances of eventually succeeding the fire chief.

Nowadays, one doesn't usually appear for these kinds of feats in the tabloids. For one, there was no longer a newspaper on Hydra, and those in Athens lived on sensations and bloody wars, not rescued cats. Instead, you ended up on the Internet, Hydra's Facebook page, Instagram with a picture, and private blogs. Even the old man's blurry photo found its way there, and after a few rounds in Photoshop, it even showed that it was a cat hanging in the parachute. The colourisation had turned Koalemos from speckled grey to a tabby that better matched the beautiful silk fabric's colours.