Discover the legend of Peel Kitty City

Do you know why Peel is the Island's cat capital? Each year, late on a summer night, all cats on the Isle of Man gather together in Peel and sing to the sea to make it safe for fisherman, sailors... and, of course, ships' cats!

Peel cats ready to sing to the sea

Long ago, when Vikings carved dragons on ships and the Isle of Man was young with stories, there was a fishing village called Peel.

It sat where land leaned towards sea, and the sea, in return, watched Peel closely.

Each year, when summer grew tired and heather turned dusky purple, something curious began.

From farms and fields, barns to hearths, boats and stone cottages, cats began to wake and walk west.

They walked alone or in pairs, tails high, paws quiet. Grey cats, ginger cats, black cats like midnight ink and white cats pale as foamy waves.

Noone told them where to go, but they followed the old paths only cats remember, paths laid down before words.

On the last warm night of summer, they gathered on rocks where the sea sighed against the shore.

When the moon rose, round and watchful, the cats sat in a great circle. The wind stilled and even the waves seemed to listen.

Then the singing began.

It was not loud, not meant for human ears. It was a woven melody, soft as purring, deep as tidewater, threaded with longing and courage.

Cats lifted their faces to the sky and sang to the sea itself.

They sang for the fishermen who would rise before dawn. They sang for the ships that would creak and sail into mist. They sang for the ships' cats, curled beside ropes and nets, guardians of grain and luck.

The song’s words are lost and forgotten in the deep mists of time and history. But the sea answered in its own way.

A wave touched the shore like a promise. Salt shimmered. Somewhere far out, a current shifted its course.

By morning, the cats were gone. People in Peel would wake that day to quiet streets and a strange feeling the year ahead might be watched over.

Fishermen swore their boats rode storms more kindly. Ship’s cats would blink golden eyes, for a moment, very wise.

If you walk the Peel shore at summer’s end and hear a sound tangled in the wind, half song, half purr, that's only the cats of the Isle of Man, keeping their old promise with the sea.