Page 30 of We’ll Prescribe You Another Cat
Tomoya was wheeling a hand truck loaded with cat litter bags from the storage room to the cattery when Madoka came up behind him, also pushing a trolley.
“Did you end up going to the mental health clinic?”
she asked.
“I did, but I left without receiving any treatment.”
“Really? They didn’t even listen to your problems?”
“They did, and they didn’t.”
“Wait. Which was it?”
“The doctor was really talkative, so it was more like I listened to him. But it was a fun experience and a nice change of pace.”
“So, it was a good clinic. That’s great to hear! You have me to thank,”
said Madoka.
She sounded happy. Tomoya kept his gaze forward and smiled.
“That’s true. Drinks are on me on our break today.”
“Yay! But to be honest, I wanted to hear from someone who has actually been to the clinic. My friend’s daughter is having a tough time and is looking for a good therapist.”
“So I was a guinea pig.”
Tomoya laughed. It was very Madoka to be so candid.
“What was the doctor like? Were they kind?”
“The doctor was a young man—maybe around my age? He was kind of flippant, and the nurse was pushing him around a bit. In any case, I didn’t receive any formal treatment, but maybe that’s how mental health care goes.”
“I bet it is. You seem more cheerful.”
Tomoya responded with a light laugh.
The fact that he had a little less to worry about had nothing to do with the doctor. He now had something to look forward to when he went home, and apparently, that showed in his face, even at work. He didn’t know he was that transparent. Until a few days ago, he had been making everyone worried.
They returned together to the office for a meeting about the upcoming adoption fair. As always, the meeting commenced with discussions on the selection of participating cats, updates on adopted cats, and reports on their publicity and awareness campaigns. Just as they were finishing up, Mr. ōta brought up the problem from the last fair.
“The cats we put up for adoption have undergone two months of medical care and behavioral training at our center. We only send out cats that we consider ready to become new family members. So you don’t need to worry too much about the criticism we received last time. It’s just that—”
“I have to admit, I was hurt when that child saw one of our cats and burst into tears,”
said Madoka, sounding dejected. She had been the one to handle the rowdy family.
The adoption fairs were held once a month on the center’s most spacious floor and were open to the public. The adoption process required a review of paperwork and a trial period lasting several days. To prevent the illegal reselling of cats, a deposit system was implemented for the trial. Post-adoption, there was a significant amount of contractual paperwork and reporting in.
Even so, due to the recent animal welfare boom, they received a vast number of applications. The boy, around four years old, and his parents, who visited the center last month, were a typical example of those caught up in the excitement of the trend.
“They didn’t fully grasp the concept of a rescue center. They arrived out of impulsive curiosity,”
Madoka recalled, propping her chin on her hand as she thought back to that day.
ōta nodded.
“There’s no harm in anyone coming to the fair just out of curiosity. If we set our standards too high and become unapproachable, it could result in our downfall. I actually prefer that people feel relaxed rather than overly cautious when they come.”
“I don’t disagree. People need to meet our cats for connections to be formed. But people who visit our center with anticipation often seem to have quite a shock. I think we’ve grown accustomed to things here and have lost sight of how jarring it can be. We’ve particularly underestimated how sensitive children can be.”
“Yes, that child was crying so hard.”
“Even the parents were distressed.”
Madoka and Mr. ōta sighed heavily. Both were kind and good-natured. Tomoya, on the other hand, felt more sympathy for the rejected cats.
On their way out, Tomoya had had the opportunity to speak directly with the family. The boy had told him he had wanted a cat for a long time and had done his research by watching videos and looking at books. When he finally got his greatest wish to see the cats, what he encountered were not purebred cats with beautiful fur like those in pet stores and cat cafés. Instead, the cats at the center bore scars and looked fierce and intimidating. There were no cats displaying cute, charming behaviors that could bring a smile to anyone’s face.
The boy, clutching a children’s illustrated cat encyclopedia, was in tears. Tomoya’s chest tightened at the boy’s guilelessness. The boy’s parents had not meant any harm either. When they had decided to get a cat, they thought they would be doing a good deed by adopting a rescue. A lack of research and knowledge ultimately hurt a child who had come with such high hopes.
“Maybe it is a bad idea to allow people with no experience or families with small children to adopt,”
said a team member. Other team members nodded in agreement.
The center’s adoption policy was a topic of ongoing debate. The City Cat Rescue Center’s policies were more lenient compared to other facilities.
“What do you think, Kajiwara?”
asked Mr. ōta, looking for backup.
“If we raised the bar, we’d see a clear decrease in adoption applications.”
“Exactly. That’s what I mean.”
“But even if we received fewer applications, the success rate of those adoptions might increase proportionally. Of course, overall numbers would be lower than they are currently.”
Mr. ōta and Madoka exchanged looks.
“What do you mean?”
they asked simultaneously.
“Ultimately, I think those who are truly serious about adopting are just a minority,”
said Tomoya.
“This might sound harsh, but many of the casually curious come here and learn the hard realities, and they leave feeling disheartened. If that leads them down a different path, then so be it. They might come back here, find another place to adopt, or maybe give up on adoption altogether.”
He recalled the boy who had cried when he saw the cats. He knew the names of all the cat breeds, the boy had told him through his tears.
What choices will he make when he becomes an adult? Tomoya had thought.
Tomoya suddenly noticed that everyone at the meeting was staring at him. Feeling a bit awkward, he lowered his gaze.
“Altering our adoption policies will affect awareness, event attendance, and donation amounts. There are significantly more individuals who have never owned pets than there are pet owners. To be candid, our broad policy aims not just at adoption but also at engaging those who have never had pets, motivating them to back our initiatives financially. Increased attendance at our events translates into more donations.”
“Well said!”
Mr. ōta’s eyes lit up.
“How about we highlight this point in our ad for the upcoming adoption fair? We can be honest and say, ‘For those without experience in cat ownership, visiting our center may be a bit challenging. Still, we would love for you to come.’ What do you think?”
“That’s it. Honesty is the best policy. This center’s motto is ‘Pawsitively honest and purrfectly healthy.’ Now, say it with me, Kajiwara. ‘Pawsitively honest and purrfectly healthy!’?”
“No, I’ll pass. The workday is officially over. May I leave for the day?”
“Oh, yeah, of course. How unusual for you to leave the office this early.”
Tomoya gave a thin smile and slipped out of the meeting. In the past few days, he hadn’t been putting in much overtime. On his way out, he crouched by the empty boxes from the supplies he’d transported earlier. Madoka approached him.
“Thank you, Tomoya.”
“For what?”
“For tying everything together nicely at the meeting. Everyone knows you’re kind, so that’s why they embraced your idea easily.”
Tomoya laughed and looked away.
“I’m not kind. I’m actually a bad person.”
“What?”
“May I take this box?”
“Of course, but didn’t you take one home yesterday, too?”
“I messed up the holes on that one, so he didn’t like it.”
With that, Tomoya chose a random box and rushed back to his apartment.