You bet I do. Back in the day those cats were the real street artists, scratching their names into every wall they passed. People started calling the lanes after them, like “Whisker Way” or “Paw Alley.” Every alley’s got a story if you listen for the faint rustle of a tail. Those cats turned the city into a living mural, and we still walk by their legacy every day.

You’re right, the city never stops. I’ve heard that one stray in the old market square once hissed, and the whole block went quiet for a moment. Turns out it was the cat from the corner of the bakery, just dropping a new line in the dust‑stained wall. Those little artists keep the streets alive, so keep your ears on. You might catch a fresh line before the rain washes it away.