The Cat Tax: Tunisia’s Terrace Ritual

Sit at any terrace in Tunisia and you’ll notice it: just as your food arrives, so does a quiet guest. A cat, tail high, eyes fixed on your plate. This is not coincidence. It’s the unspoken rule of dining outdoors here. We call it the cat tax.

What the Cat Tax Really Means

It’s simple. You eat, they wait, and sooner or later, you pay. A piece of fish. A scrap of chicken. Sometimes only a crumb of bread. The tax collector doesn’t issue receipts, just a satisfied flick of the tail before moving to the next table.

For Tunisians, this is normal. For visitors, it’s often the moment they laugh and say: this is Tunisia.

More Than a Joke

The cat tax is cute, yes. But it also reflects something deeper about life here. Tunisia is a land of shared space. Cats aren’t pests to be chased away, they are part of the street, the café, the table. They belong to the rhythm as much as the waiter serving tea or the man playing cards in the corner.

Hospitality in Tunisia doesn’t stop with people. It extends to whoever shows up, even with whiskers.

A Living System

Every culture has small rituals that say more than they seem. In Japan, it might be bowing. In Italy, the evening passeggiata. In Tunisia, the terrace cat.

What looks like a small interruption is really continuity. A reminder that life here is never private or sealed. It spills over. It shares. It feeds.

And maybe that’s why Tunisia feels so alive: even the cats eat with dignity.

Leaving With a Smile

Tourists take pictures. Locals smile and carry on. For visitors, it becomes a memory; for Tunisians, it’s simply part of the terrace rhythm.

The cat tax doesn’t cost much. Just a bite, a moment, a small act of sharing. And in exchange, you carry a story with you, of Tunisia’s terraces, its humor, its softness, its way of making space for everyone.