'Purrfect' day means taking cat photos in the hutong

I've developed an odd habit. Wandering, as I often do, along one of many of Beijing's historical hutong, I snap photos that I'll never print out. I take photos of strange architectural choices, traditional doors, statues of lions, hidden hipster cafes and, yes, photos of people taking photos of cats.

The more gentrified of Beijing's hutong are visited upon by many furred felines, who lounge on doorsteps in the sun with hedonistic abandon as if they own the place. Like none other in the animal kingdom, cats give off this kind of rock-star vibe. They have the "I don't care" attitude, they are meticulously preened and they attract swarms of paparazzi.

Full disclosure, I don't own, nor have I ever owned a cat. Despite this, I hold no ill will to these tiny tomcats. All of my information about cats has come from cartoons or films. I seem to recall that cats have a strange association with clustering in great numbers around single women.

Back in the hutong, it has become an ever-increasingly often sight to see a parading puss surrounded by keen paps, crouching, hunching themselves over, contorting their bodies into tantric positions and gurning in effort, to get the best snap of this cat.

Now, when it comes to street photography, I'm more of a Lee Friedlander without the skill than a Walter Chandoha. I get it, cats are cute, but I'm more interested in taking this photo of the odd reflection of a mannequin's legs in a small antique store window. Does that make me weird?

Anyway, I remember the very first time it happened as if it were yesterday. I was rounding a corner of the Yangmei Hutong to the west of Qianmen, eagerly snapping away at twisted power lines, faded calligraphy, those floating by, when I stumbled upon a scrum of people jostling. I thought, "Hello? What's this? A fight on the otherwise peaceful streets of historical Beijing?" I was quickly proved mistaken. Instead, I discovered this excited rabble was eagerly taking photos of a cat. And it was loving it too, you could tell. It had its shoulders pushed forward, haunches tilted, its cinnamon-fawn-lilac fur silky smooth, head extended upward at 45-degree angle. What a pro. I swear it was even pouting. Or it winked at me, one or the other.

A strange feeling came over me as I observed this growing huddle. I want to take a photo of the people taking photos of this cat. It almost became a game as to see how many people taking a photo of this cat I could get in the frame. I reckon at one point I got at least six.

As with the gamification of basically every industry on the planet, I'm now hooked on this strange obsession, and actively seek it out when the opportunity presents itself. And because of this, my camera is always by my side, or hanging from my neck, generally.

Hopefully, if I collect enough of these cat-people-photo-taking photos, some niche book publisher might cut me a deal, and for one short Christmas shopping season my book could be that cheap odd gift an uninspired relative buys you that they'd found in the novelty discount bin of some struggling bookstore chain.