Crete is a Greek island steeped in ancient history and mythos. The vibrant sky and endless, bright taupe of the earth and architecture convince you that, long ago, gods roamed the land, causing mischief and magic. In the summer of 2019, my family and I visited Crete. One day, we drove past Mount Ida, where deep in the Ideon Cave Zeus is said to have been birthed by Rhea, and visited Knossos, thought to have been the palace of King Minos. Suddenly, I was able to connect the myths I’ve loved since I was a child to the places that inspired them.

Along with its mythic heritage, the island of Crete is famous for its cats. Cretan cats decorate calendars, postcards, and countless tourist tchotchkes. Cat sightings were constant, no matter where we were on the island. We met a mother and her baby lounging on a chair at an outdoor café, a pair of kittens rolling around a parking lot, and countless scruffy felines slinking down the cobblestone streets. These cats are simultaneously abhorred and adored. An unchecked, flea-ridden population of cats constantly begs for food from locals and tourists alike.  While these street cats may be a nuisance, they’ll show undying affection if obliged.  

One night, as we returned to our hotel, sweaty, blistered, but delighted after eating decadent dolmas and exploring the former leper colony island of Spinalonga, we discovered that a new friend had decided to come home with us. A skinny black and white stray curled around our ankles, welcoming himself to the patio outside of our room. We dubbed him “Hermes,” the mischievous traveler. As dutiful hosts, we brought out a small bowl of water and a few pieces of fish we had in the fridge. Hermes was not shy in accepting our affection and offerings, and we were delighted by his company. Under a night sky full of constellations that told the stories of the very land we sat on, he messily scarfed down the dinner we provided, and by the end of the meal we had made a new friend. 

To our amazement, the next morning we opened our door to find Hermes sitting on the doorstep, patiently waiting. As if accepting an invitation to breakfast, he strutted in, greeting us all by brushing up against our legs and making himself at home on the cold tile floors. When we all sat outside to eat freshly ripened fruits and freshly baked pastries, our new friend came to join us as well. While of course he could have only come back for more free food, I like to think that he also enjoyed our company. He hopped up onto an empty chair at the table as if he was one of the family, and while we did not share any of our coveted avocado, he once again received his serving of water and fish. A trickster like his namesake, Hermes would occasionally try to sneak a bite of fruit when it seemed no one was watching. We would laugh and pick him up off the table, placing him back in his chair where he would look coyly at us, oblivious that he had done anything wrong. He playfully jumped among our chairs and accepted our scratches behind the ears. Even after we cleaned up breakfast and had no more food to offer him, Hermes stayed.

Perhaps Hermes was the embodiment of the deity himself, the divine herald and patron of travelers. When it was time for us to go explore the majesties of the island, he walked us all the way to the car and meowed as we drove away. I hope he blessed us on our travels. 

--Keira Cruickshank X Writer & Traveler