Page 27 of We’ll Prescribe You Another Cat

An opportunity to visit Dr. Suda quickly arose.

Located on a narrow street in Nakagyō Ward, Suda Animal Hospital was sandwiched between wooden town houses, with the rear of the building serving as a residence. A long-standing establishment, it lacked modern medical equipment, and the X-ray and blood-testing devices were outdated. Examinations tended to rely on palpations and the vet’s judgment based on his experience.

He primarily worked with dogs and cats. While veterinarians might not be familiar with every animal species, pet owners often assumed that vets could treat all kinds. As Tomoya looked at the patient photos displayed in the waiting room, he developed a deep appreciation for the complexities of a veterinarian’s role. One image featured a small turtle about the size of a palm. To its owner, the turtle was a cherished family member. They likely sought help at this vet due to some issue.

I wonder if the turtle fully recovered. I hope it went on to live a long life.

The door to the examination room opened, and Dr. Suda stepped out. He took off his surgical cap and mask, revealing a shock of white hair and a warm smile.

“You made the right decision, Tomoya.”

Tomoya breathed a sigh of relief at Dr. Suda’s gentle voice.

“Thank goodness. How many kittens did she give birth to?”

“Two big ones.”

Dr. Suda looked toward the operating table. The mother cat was already curled up in a ball in a crate. Under her belly, newly born kittens with damp fur squirmed feebly.

“The mother cat is still young, and I believe she’s a mix of slender foreign breeds. Siamese cats, for example, often have difficult births. It’s fortunate you noticed. I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

Dr. Suda cleaned up after the emergency cesarean section and removed his surgical suit. Cats usually managed birth on their own, but this one had been in obvious distress when Tomoya picked her up from the police station. He’d gotten her into the crate in the back of his van and was driving for a while when he realized something was seriously wrong. He knew at once the labor was taking too long. He’d seen enough normal births to know this was different. He was worried she wouldn’t even make it back to the center. That was when he thought of Suda Animal Hospital.

When he rushed into the hospital, the morning appointments had already been completed, and the receptionist had already left. If Dr. Suda hadn’t been in his residence in the back, Tomoya would have had to drive the suffering cat around in his back seat to another emergency vet.

“I am genuinely grateful for you. When I noticed the cat was going into labor in the back of the van, I broke out in a cold sweat.”

“Did you go to the police station specifically for this cat?”

“I was out running another errand when the police contacted me about a cat they had rescued, mentioning that she seemed weak and needed to be picked up. So I took a detour to fetch her. I’m glad I did. It could have been dangerous if we had left her alone. I’m grateful to the officer who reached out to me.”

“I see,”

said Dr. Suda with a nod.

“I apologize for making you see her during your break. Since she hasn’t yet gone through intake at the center, I’ll pay for her medical bills separately.”

“I forgot to do the intake paperwork for her myself. I’ll charge you at cost. You should leave her here at the hospital tonight. I’m going over to the center on Sunday, so I’ll bring her along then.”

“Thank you for all that you do for us always.”

Tomoya bowed. Veterinary treatments were costly. There was no public health coverage for animals, so one had to pay all expenses. Fees varied widely among vets, but higher costs didn’t always guarantee better treatment. Still, as someone closely involved with the center’s operations, Tomoya was painfully aware of the significant expenses required for facility maintenance and staffing.

Animals cost money—there was no sugarcoating this fact.

“How’s your cat doing?”

Tomoya was taken aback. Dr. Suda was, as always, very gentle. He didn’t mean anything by the question, but Tomoya’s guilty conscience caused him to break out in a sweat.

“Same as usual. He’s always asleep and seems to move around only when I’m not there.”

“Is that so? Well, as long as he’s active, that’s good. If you’re curious about his movements, you might consider installing a pet monitor.”

“A pet monitor…”

I can watch Nikké during the day from work?

For a moment, he recalled Nikké’s stretches: front paws to the floor, butt high in the air, back bowing in a long, satisfying arc. It had looked so relaxing that Tomoya had felt like trying it himself.

But he had not seen such a gesture in a long time.

The pet monitor was a good idea, but if he could, he’d watch Nikké constantly. He’d be checking on Nikké not only on his break but also during work hours. He imagined how restless he’d be and smiled wryly.

“No, even if I set up a monitor, I won’t have time to check on it.”

“I see. Well, if anything comes up, feel free to let me know. Don’t keep it all to yourself.”

Tomoya bowed. It struck him then that many people around him were concerned for him, and he felt a pang of embarrassment. His emotions must be just that obvious.

As he left the animal hospital, he considered how he could develop that kind of inner strength. He admired Dr. Suda’s ability to remain calm under any circumstance. The more Tomoya focused on work, the more a sudden, unsettling anxiety would overwhelm him, making him want to abandon everything. Sooner or later, he was going to make a significant mistake.

Should I speak to someone, even if it’s just for temporary peace of mind?

If he wasn’t wrong, the mental health clinic Madoka had texted him the address for was around here.

“East of Takoyakushi Street, south of Tominokoji Street, west of Rokkaku Street, north of Fuyacho Street, Nakagyō Ward, Kyoto. Nakagyō Kokoro Clinic for the Soul. Fifth floor.”

Tomoya laughed at the chaotic address, but he thought it might be worth a visit.

As he walked down the street, Tomoya frowned. “Huh?”

The rescue center’s van, which he had parked near Suda Animal Hospital, was nowhere to be found. It seemed that, in a daze, he had walked in the opposite direction.

“I’m seriously ill.”

He was alone on one of the grid-like streets of Nakagyō. One wrong turn, and he’d end up completely lost. He peered down the dark alley, thinking there couldn’t possibly be a building back there. But there it was: an old, narrow structure at the far end.

“What in the world…?”

He approached the building with wonder. It resembled the one from which Nikké was rescued, but that building had been on a main street and hadn’t been as gloomy.

Strange. He recognized the hallway that extended from the always-open entrance of the building. Three years ago, holding his nose against the awful stench that permeated the place, he had the building manager let him into the unit. Inside, there were small cages stacked on top of one another, each containing a cat. He immediately understood what had happened.

Tomoya took the few cats that were barely breathing out of the cages and rushed them to Suda Animal Hospital. It was then that Nikké, despite being on the verge of death, had bitten him. He still had the scars on his arm.

He entered the building, feeling doubtful. On the fifth floor, he stood before the second unit from the back. This was where Nikké and the other cats had been abandoned.

When he touched the doorknob, it turned smoothly with hardly any effort. The interior of the once-dark room had transformed entirely, and he felt his anxiety dissipate. It made sense; a new tenant must have moved in. There was a small reception window in the front. Maybe this is the rumored clinic.

The sound of slippers smacking on the floor resonated as a nurse appeared, a woman in her mid-twenties.

“Mr. Tomoya Kajiwara, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“Oh?”

How does she know my name? The nurse gestured with her eyes toward the back of the room.

“The doctor is currently with a scheduled patient. Please have a seat and wait.”

“That’s okay. I’ll come another day.”

“Mr. Kajiwara, you have an appointment as well. Because it took you so long, others went ahead of you.”

The corners of the nurse’s lips quirked up, but it was more of a smirk than a smile. There was a coquettishness about her that he found discomfiting.

But when he looked carefully, he found her face familiar. The nurse furrowed her brow as he stared.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Have we met before?”

“What is this? Are you hitting on me?”

“What?”

His face flushed scarlet, and he broke out in a cold sweat.

“N-no, I wasn’t hitting on you. I just thought we might have met before.”

Seeing beads of sweat appear on his forehead, the nurse snickered.

“That’s an old pickup line. I won’t fall for it. Please take a seat and wait. You can’t leave. The doctor has been waiting for you all this time.”

“O-okay.”

He hurried into the waiting room—a small room with a single armchair—too embarrassed to protest.

He took a seat and shrank into himself.

He recalled the exchange that had just occurred, and his face burned at the memory: Have we met before?

Eventually, the flush in his face subsided.

He surveyed the area: simple, clean walls and ceilings—everything neat and orderly.

There was no trace of the horrific scene of garbage and animal waste.

He heard later from the animal control officer that they had been unable to find the unlicensed breeder.

Based on the cats they discovered, it appeared they were not dealing with purebred cats but rather mixed breeds that were either bred from pedigree cats or visually appealing mixed breeds.

It was unclear whether the business had encountered financial problems or some other trouble—the reason for the breeder’s disappearance remained unknown.

Tomoya didn’t question how it could have happened.

Human excuses meant nothing to him.

He had done everything he could at the time, yet he felt responsible for the cats that hadn’t survived.

If he had arrived a day earlier, perhaps he could have saved them. The guilt lingered to this day.

Tomoya remained absorbed in his thoughts when the door to the examination room swung open.

A young man, barely more than a boy, stepped out.

He was short and had a round face.

When he spotted Tomoya on the sofa, his eyes widened in shock.

Why is he staring? Do I know him? Tomoya returned the stare, then realized he was looking at a woman, not a boy.

A woman with short hair and a boyish look.

She seemed around the same age as his little sister, Reona.

Her eyes were steely, and her mouth was set in a firm line. She clutched a pet carrier to her chest; a white cat was visible through the plastic mesh. He saw a flash of light blue and yellow. It was an odd-eyed cat.

A cat at a medical consultation?

“Ms. Ao Torii, please come this way,”

the nurse called out, waving a pale hand.

Almost simultaneously, a voice called from inside the examination room: “Mr. Tomoya Kajiwara, please come in.”

Tomoya looked away from the woman, who continued to look at him with a peculiar expression, and walked into the examination room. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a desk, a computer, and a folding chair. At the desk sat a man in a white lab coat.

“I apologize for the wait. When it rains, it pours. But sometimes, it’s really quiet.”

The doctor spoke in a cheerful, light manner; he appeared around thirty, about his own age, and with a similar physique.

“My last patient also took a while to arrive. I got tired of waiting and considered looking for her myself, but just as I was peering out of the window, a different patient turned up! Then I got scolded. And then I took a nap, thinking no one was coming, and ended up getting scolded yet again. But I’m relieved that neither of you forgot and eventually showed up.”

The doctor was very talkative. He had delicate features and looked calm and approachable. Yet, his smile seemed flippant and insincere. Is this what psychiatric clinics are like? If that woman I saw earlier is a patient, does it mean you could bring cats to these appointments? Maybe it’s a thing…? Tomoya pondered uncertainly.

The doctor gave him a smile.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Mr. Kajiwara? What brings you in today?”

The examination started unexpectedly. Tomoya felt overwhelmed with thoughts.

“Well, uh…I’ve become increasingly absent-minded at work lately, and I’ve been making mistakes. The people around me are worried and suggested I talk to someone about it.”

“I see.”

The doctor smiled. It wasn’t the flippant smile from before but one that Tomoya thought he recognized.

“We’ll prescribe you a cat. When you’re feeling weary, don’t just bear it on your own—you should lean on a cat. Not a single positive thing can come from dealing with it all on your own. As for how to administer the cat, you can bury your face in it, pet it, whatever you like. Even so, you can’t leave it to the cat to do as humans want. Well, then…”

The doctor began typing on his keyboard with the look of a child up to mischief.

“Which cat? A double dose of a very effective cat might be good. It’ll attack the ailment with double the power.”

The doctor burst into a fit of giggles.

Tomoya sat dumbfounded as he watched the doctor chuckle to himself.

What is he laughing about? I don’t get it at all.