ROME -- From the shadow of a tombstone, a pair of yellow eyes stares steadily as I pick my way over uneven ground. This is my introduction to Teobaldo, one of around 70 cats -- all with names -- who live in the Non-Catholic Cemetery in Rome.

 Although it is best known as the resting place of Romantic poets Keats and Shelley and the site of the ancient Pyramid of Cestius, this graveyard has become an unlikely cat haven. The woman who made it possible is former gas company clerk Matilde Talli, who’s become a kind of patron saint for Roman cats since opening her sanctuary here in 1984.

 “When I arrived, it was a tragedy,” says Matilde, 64. “There were around 160 cats, all unneutered. Kittens were continually dying because viruses were spreading unchecked.”

 “I chose to help cats,” she adds, “because they had no protection at all. We are still battling to help them today.” 

 With the help of the archeological authority for the area and the A.I.S.P.A. (the Anglo-Italian Society for the Protection of Animals), Matilde was able to neuter, vaccinate and feed many of the cats, and even construct casette (little houses) for them. Every day of the year, with the help of several cat-loving volunteers, she goes to the cemetery to check up on them and feed them. On Sundays, she roasts several chickens for them –- “they turn their noses up at fish” -- as a special treat.

 As Matilde and her volunteers prepare the cat food, an assortment of feline specimens creep out from their watchposts, some with missing ears and limbs, others with thick glossy coats. “All of the cats are favourites here – one because he’s old, another because he’s a mischief-maker,” says Matilde, as she strokes a black and white speckled cat called Peperoncino – so-called because of his frisky temperament. Peperoncino has often tried to climb the 37 metre high pyramid (around 120 feet) during his numerous -- and unsuccessful -- hunting expeditions for birds.

 Every May for the last 10 years, Matilde has hosted a cat show at the cemetery to find owners for the abandoned cats and raise money for the sanctuary, and people come from as far afield as Holland, Switzerland and France to adopt individual cats. The sanctuary is well-known by cat associations around the world, and people often write to her to ask for news of their favourites. This year alone, the sanctuary has already found homes for over 26 cats all over the world.

 Gruff and unsentimental, she takes a hard line on cat discipline. When a black cat called Ballù takes a clout at Peperoncino (Chilli Pepper), she gives him a sharp tap on the bottom. He skulks off growling to the nearby ancient pyramid.

 For centuries, many Italians have been dubious about cats, particularly the black ones. These superstitions, Matilde informs me, hark back to the invasion of the Arabs between the third and the fifth centuries AD, when they arrived in the South of Italy on ships filled with black cats. “So whenever people saw black cats, they knew that the pirates were coming and prepared for an invasion,” explains Matilde. “That’s why cats have come to be linked to malice and the wickedness of witches.”

 Today, some Italians still consider cats to be a serious health hazard. It's still common, says Matilde, for doctors to tell pregnant women: “Aspetti un bambino, fuori il gattino!” (“If you are expecting a baby, throw out the kitten!”)

 In a city where cats are often seen as vermin, Matilde’s work -- now largely subsidised by donations -- is crucial. However, the problem today is not that cats are unloved. Far from it: just last year, Tommaso, a Rome-born cat, became the richest feline in the world after inheriting ten million euros from his 94-year-old mistress. The real problem is that cat-lovers are continuously breeding and purchasing pedigree cats when there are already plenty to go round. According to the Italian Department of Health, Italians spend 258 million euros on buying cats every year.

 Many Italians, explains Matilde, are still under the false impression that cats can look after themselves. “Cats can only look after themselves,” she says, “if they are in a field full of birds and mice. But in the middle of a city what can they eat, something out of a bin?”

 One of her many campaigns is against the proposal to neuter most cats in Belgium by 2016 in order to halt the spread of disease and, ultimately, to make them extinct. “Now, I don’t want to go too far” adds Matilde, cautiously, “but Hitler wanted to kill all people with Down's Syndrome.”

 “I think it's the owners of these animals who should be neutered!” she says.

Anyone who wishes to make a donation to the cat shelter can do so by a bank transfer to: Matilde Talli, Banca Monte dei Paschi di Siena, Via Cornelio Magni, 45 (Roma), IT71 Y 01030 03300 000000526953, BIC/SWIFT PASCITM1Z69

If you are interested in helping the number is: +39065756085