Page 32 of We’ll Prescribe You Another Cat

A cautionary note was posted on the website, and the adoption fair was to be held as scheduled.

Starting Saturday morning, it was all-hands-on-deck. Tables were set up in the largest room at the rescue center, and cats in enclosures were brought out one by one. Several booths were established, including one for paperwork and another for selling merchandise, and a small area was cleared for educational workshops.

Tomoya was moving one of the enclosures with a cat inside, readjusting a plate with a number on it. As a rule, cats were referred to by numbers, even if they already had names. If a numbered enclosure became available, a new cat would take its place. This practice was unpopular because it felt like they were treating the cats as objects, but it was intended to prevent employees from becoming too attached to the cats, as well as out of consideration for the future owners. They sent off the cats, advising the new family to choose a new name for their pet.

Once everything was set up, Tomoya took a short break. He crouched down to meet the gaze of one of the cats.

“Wighead, you’ve been here for a while now. Let’s hope someone nice comes for you today.”

In crate nine sat a male cat with black-and-white fur. He was called Wighead because his face was mostly white, but the fur from his brows to the back of his head was black. Even though the cats were assigned numbers, they all eventually received nicknames organically. Wighead had been at the rescue center for nearly two years. He had been taken home for trials several times, but unfortunately, none had resulted in a permanent adoption.

Madoka, who had finished her own tasks, came over to Tomoya’s side.

“I finished setting up the booths for the cats who are not up for adoption. I placed a large caution sign on the board to prevent kids from wandering over like they did last time,” she said.

Tomoya smiled. After the meeting, someone proposed that they exclude the cats not eligible for adoption at the fair. But the suggestion was not accepted.

“I was taken aback by your outright rejection of the idea to exclude those cats.”

Madoka chuckled teasingly, which made Tomoya’s face redden.

“Was I too harsh?”

“Not at all. Once you explained that raising awareness about the reality of the situation could help reduce the number of cats needing to be rescued, I reconsidered my stance and found myself agreeing. Concealing unpleasant truths does not address the problem at its core.”

“But we’re only showcasing a small selection of the cats. Those with serious issues won’t be taken out of the cattery. That’s also the reality.”

“If I recall correctly, your cat’s also a rescue, right?”

“Yes, that’s right. I adopted him before he came to this center.”

“Why was that?”

“After he received medical treatment at Dr. Suda’s, he came directly home with me…”

“That’s not what I meant. Why did you pick that cat?”

asked Madoka, as blunt as ever.

“You’re so good with all the rescue cats here. I’ve always been so impressed by how you can be so warm and yet maintain a clear, professional boundary. Was there a special reason you adopted that one? Was it fate? Did you feel a spark?”

Tomoya blinked rapidly. He’d never thought about his reasons for adopting Nikké.

Their first meeting had been harrowing. He had found Nikké lying limply in a cramped cage, covered in feces and urine. Tomoya had thought he was dead. When he slowly pulled him out of the cage, Nikké suddenly bared his fangs and snapped. He sank his sharp canines into Tomoya’s arm, and blood came pouring out.

“Rather than a spark, I felt like I’d been struck with a violent bolt of lightning.”

“Huh?”

Chattering voices began to fill the air. The adoption fair had started. Families with children, young women, a man accompanying his elderly parents—the attendees were diverse. Some had eyes sparkling with anticipation, while others kept a cautious distance. There was even a couple who exchanged an awkward glance and left right away. The cats’ photographs were posted on the website in advance, but most of the cats at the rescue were not accustomed to cameras and did not photograph well. Many people noted how the cats looked completely different in real life, which was why the center urged people to visit the cats in person.

The staff were all busy explaining things to visitors. Tomoya assisted a woman who asked to see Wighead. She seemed experienced with cats, but Wighead nervously flattened his ears against his head. Was it chemistry or timing? Deciding it was better for them not to get too close, Tomoya chose not to hand the cat to the woman. After much consideration, the woman left.

“That was too bad.”

Tomoya smiled at Wighead resting in his arms. Wighead gave a yawn, as if to say, “Oh, well!”

In moments like these, a touch of firm persuasion could pave the way to success. Yet, there were instances where the reverse held true. It was all very complicated—cats and humans. The tiniest details could alter everything in a moment.

Madoka approached him, looking bewildered.

“That family from last month is here,”

she whispered.

“You mean the one with the kid who bawled when he saw the cats?”

The floor was packed with people. Tomoya craned his neck and spotted the family amid the crowd—a young couple with a son around kindergarten age.

“They brought the child again, even though he was so frightened last time.”

It was ill-advised of them to bring their child again, regardless of how interested they were in adopting a cat. The boy had cried so intensely that it was as if he were on fire, and his loud cries had made all the cats anxious, forcing them to pause the adoption fair.

“I’m going to have a little chat with them. Take Wighead for me.”

Tomoya went over to the family, who saw him coming. Looking sheepish, they bowed in greeting.

“We’re really sorry about last month. You’re the deputy director of this rescue center, right?”

“Yes, I’m Tomoya Kajiwara. Hello.”

Tomoya turned to the boy with a smile.

“Hi, sonny.”

“Hello!”

the boy replied enthusiastically. He held out a picture book to him. “Here!”

“What is it?”

The boy persistently nudged the book toward him. Tomoya gasped.

“Did you study up on rescue cats?”

It was a children’s book about animal welfare. The book featured cute illustrations and large, easy-to-read text depicting what it means for animals and humans to coexist, the roles of animal shelters, and stories about abandoned cats and stray dogs.

On their last visit, the boy had been carrying an illustrated cat encyclopedia. However, today’s book focused not on the charm of cats but on the difficulties of living with them. At the thought of the boy reading this book, Tomoya’s eyes welled with tears.

“Our boy insisted on returning here, no matter what we said,”

the mother said timidly.

“He’s very stubborn. Once his heart is set on something, he sticks to it. Would it be okay for us to see the cats? I’ve told him he has to behave today.”

“Yes, of course.”

Tomoya handed the book back to the boy and bowed slightly. He felt embarrassed about his earlier comments regarding their policies. At the rescue center, he had encountered cats in a variety of situations and, without noticing it, had grown confident in his ability to make sound decisions. However, he understood that what was needed from anyone looking to adopt was sincerity. Even if they couldn’t adopt right away, he believed they would show kindness in different ways elsewhere.

Tomoya spent the rest of the day explaining and answering questions. At some point, he noticed the boy and his parents chatting with Madoka. She held Wighead in her arms.

Madoka knelt in front of the boy as Wighead and the boy came close. He was reaching out his arms, attempting to embrace the cat, but Wighead’s size made it impossible for a small child to lift him. Madoka stepped in to give him a shove.

The cat dangled lazily in the boy’s embrace, showing no signs of struggle. Even when the boy squeezed him affectionately, Wighead looked like he was saying, “Do whatever you like.”

I see. They must be destined for each other.

As Tomoya observed the family go to fill out their trial paperwork with Wighead in tow, he sensed that connections were not something one could influence. As he was leaving, the boy came up to Tomoya once more.

“My cat wears a helmet, so I decided to name him ‘Helmet.’?”

Tomoya laughed.

“That’s a cool name.”

“How about yours?”

“What?”

“Your cat. Don’t you have one?”

“I do have one. His name is Nikké.”

“What is he like? What kind of cat is he?”

The boy was very curious. It was uncertain whether he would become Wighead’s owner, but Tomoya hoped his interest in rescue animals would continue to ripple outward.

“My cat is black. A very kind black cat.”

As he verbalized it for the first time, Tomoya realized that Nikké really was a kind cat. As he waved at the boy, he glanced at his forearm, where the scar from Nikké’s bite was still visible. Nikké had snapped at him, even though he could hardly move at the time. Tomoya had let go in surprise, and Nikké had hissed at the other staff members. Ultimately, they were able to save only one other, a female calico, but perhaps Nikké was trying to protect the group. Perhaps they were family.

The adoption fair came to a close, and many of the cats left with their families for their trial period. How many would successfully convert to adoptions? Even after adoptions, the owners were required to provide status reports for a few years. They kept an eye on the cat until it passed.

After packing up equipment and completing paperwork, it was late at night before Tomoya left. He felt drained, both mentally and physically. In a fog, he returned to his apartment and switched on the light. He was too tired to eat. As he considered postponing all his to-dos until tomorrow, his gaze casually drifted around the room. That was when he saw Nikké lying completely still on the lowest shelf of the cat pen.

Tomoya’s breath caught in his throat.

Before he could move, his thoughts began spinning out of control.

He’s dead. He’s dead.

He rushed to the pen and reached inside. Nikké lay still, eyes closed. Tomoya wrapped his hands around the cat’s torso, causing his head to droop to one side. Extracting him from the pen took some effort.

“Nikké. Nikké.”

He was warm. Tomoya gently stroked the cat’s glossy stomach with his finger and saw it rising and falling.

Tomoya released a shaky breath. But no matter how many times he called his name or shook him, Nikké remained asleep. He didn’t know if Nikké was now in a true coma or if, like before, he had been active during the day.

The vet nearest to his apartment offered emergency services, but none of the vets had been able to determine why Nikké wouldn’t wake up. All tests indicated that Nikké was in perfect health. If anyone could help them, it would be Dr. Kokoro Suda.

The trains were no longer running at this hour, so Tomoya called a taxi. Regardless of whether it was an emergency or not, he could rely on Dr. Suda to take it seriously. He wrapped Nikké in a blanket and placed him inside a pet carrier. He called Suda Animal Hospital as he was leaving. After a few rings, Dr. Suda picked up, and as he got into the cab, Tomoya explained the situation.

Not fully grasping his own actions or what was right or wrong, Tomoya rushed into the Suda Animal Hospital in Nakagyō Ward. It was the middle of the night.

The service door was open in anticipation of his arrival. Dr. Kokoro Suda was dressed in pajamas and a lab coat when Tomoya rushed into the examination room and laid Nikké on the metallic exam table.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Kokoro, for coming at this hour.”

“It’s no problem at all. The same as before?”

“Yes. He won’t wake up, no matter what I do. Yet for the past week, he’s been showing signs of movement again. He was so full of energy this morning.”

“All right. Let’s take a look.”

Dr. Suda examined the completely immobile Nikké from various angles. He lifted his eyelids, pried open his mouth, took X-rays, and conducted a thorough evaluation. Nikké remained limp and unresponsive the entire time.

“As expected, the cause is unclear.”

Dr. Suda sighed, his expression dark. Tomoya knew this would be the case, and he, too, let out a deep sigh.

“I see.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Tomoya shook his head.

“Please don’t apologize. You’re the only vet who has so thoroughly examined Nikké. I know we don’t understand what’s wrong with him, and there’s nothing we can do, but I just can’t stand by and do nothing. Maybe he’ll wake up tomorrow morning. I can only hope…”

“Usually, if a cat doesn’t wake up upon receiving a shot, it suggests that they’re in a coma. Yet during the day, he’s active, eats, drinks water, and eliminates waste. I’ve never heard of a condition like this. I don’t know how to describe it…I can sense his willpower or something like that.”

Dr. Suda laid Nikké on a blanket and stroked his gleaming black fur.

“This one has always had a strong will to live. He should have died at that breeder’s place, but he survived against all odds. It’s possible that he’s hanging on by a thread and clinging to life.”

Tomoya was startled by Dr. Suda’s words. Someone else had said something similar.

He looked at Nikké. His fur shone beautifully under the examination room’s lights. He recalled how he had not wanted to go back to his apartment where the sleeping Nikké awaited him.

“Dr. Kokoro?”

“Yes?”

“Nikké doesn’t have much time left, does he?”

Dr. Suda spoke quietly.

“Probably not.”

“When…?”

With hollow eyes, Tomoya gazed at Nikké, his eyes falling on the gentle hump of his tiny stomach, glimmering in a dark sheen.

He had hesitated to put it in words until now. He felt ashamed even to think it.

But he couldn’t keep this murky turmoil inside any longer.

“When will he die?”

“Tomoya.”

“Please tell me, when will Nikké die? I can’t take it anymore. Dr. Kokoro, I can’t stand this any longer. Ever since Nikké stopped waking up, every day I’ve been unable to concentrate on anything, worried that I’d find Nikké dead when I got home. I’ve been distracted at work, constantly making mistakes. And whenever I think that maybe Nikké might die at this very moment, I suddenly have to run home…All I want is to be by his side.”

Is this what it means for the floodgates to open?

A part of him criticized himself for having emotions. Yet, once unleashed, he couldn’t stop them flowing.

“But that’s irresponsible. I have a job. There are so many cats that need care at the rescue center and a mountain of tasks that need to be completed. Putting all that aside to run home to my cat is not something a responsible person would do. Take a few days off? For my cat? Neglect work and go home because my cat is an important member of my family? Dr. Kokoro, please tell me something. If it were a human family member, it’d be acceptable, but why not for a cat? What’s important is different for each person. It might not matter to others, but my cat is important to me.”

But he knew better. He had common sense. That was why he couldn’t act on his impulse. He’d empathize if someone around him did the same thing, but he’d also offer a gentle word of caution. It was just how he was.

All animal lovers have trodden this familiar path: dealing with compromises and conflicts that can’t be discussed. That’s all it is. He urged himself to keep it under control. But keeping a lid on one’s heart was agonizing. Tomoya clutched his chest. He was in anguish; it truly felt like he might explode from the inside.

“I have no idea what will happen when. Even if I threw everything aside today, what about tomorrow? What if we spend tomorrow together, but he dies the next day? Then, everything I’ve done would be pointless. I don’t want to live a life dragged around by a cat. No matter how important he is to me, I have to draw a line. That’s why I deliberately make plans, come home as late as possible, visit my parents, and waste as much time as I can. That’s how I’ve been convincing myself that I’m fine. But even when I do foolish things like that, I can’t help but feel terrified every time I go home. What if today is the day I find Nikké dead?”

He didn’t know when he started to tremble so much or to cry. Tears had filled his eyes, clouding his vision. They fell in heavy droplets as he gazed down at his clenched fists.

“I feel a wave of dread wash over me when I find Nikké motionless at home. My cat is dead. Then I’m relieved when I discover he’s still warm. My cat is alive. I want to be with him, but, Dr. Kokoro, I, I…”

Tomoya realized he should hold back.

Though Nikké seemed unresponsive, it was clear he was still listening. It was too pitiful that his owner felt this way, he must have been thinking.

Tomoya looked up at Dr. Suda, who remained silent. He offered neither encouragement nor blame. Swallowing his sobs, Tomoya finally released what he had been holding in.

“I want Nikké to pass away while I’m here, to pass away by my side. I can’t bear the thought of him dying alone. I don’t want him to die feeling lonely while I’m away.”

He could no longer keep it in. Overcome by a surge of emotions, Tomoya wept and wept, his entire body shuddering.

After a while, he gradually regained his composure. Head bowed, he wiped his wet cheeks and snot-streaked face. Dr. Suda handed him a tissue.

“Thank you,”

he mumbled as he cleaned his face. It was the first time he had cried so hard. He was embarrassed by his display of emotion.

“I’m sure there are many things stressing you. Sometimes, it’s helpful to let it all out like that. When a human is overwhelmed, it’s the pet that suffers the consequences,”

Dr. Suda said gently.

Many might be exasperated at the sight of a grown man breaking down, but Dr. Suda showed no such reaction, nor did he show any pity. He treated man and beast alike—with neither too much empathy nor disregard.

Tomoya thought Dr. Suda was an old-fashioned type, a vet who relied on experience for his diagnoses. The latest advancements in modern veterinary science and research had likely passed him by. Yet, he had been the one who had opened his doors in the dead of night. He worked himself to the bone for the animals. Above anything, his love for them was palpable.

He wondered if he could ever become like him.

“Dr. Kokoro, I’m sorry you had to see me in this pathetic state.”

“Not to worry. Listening is about all I can do.”

“Just having you listen has been an enormous relief. I’ve been having these cruel thoughts, even though I work with animals. I feel terrible for it, especially toward Nikké. I wish I could be composed and kind like you.”

“You can think whatever you want in your head. Good or bad, the fact that you’re thinking things through is what counts. It’s much better than not thinking at all, like me.”

Dr. Suda smiled, stroking the still-sleeping Nikké.

“I don’t understand the hearts of animals or humans. It’s ironic that my name, Kokoro, means ‘heart.’?”

It was the first time Tomoya had heard Dr. Suda speak about himself, and the rare occurrence surprised him. Although he didn’t perceive any emotion in Dr. Suda’s words, he wondered if a complicated past lay hidden beneath the surface. Dr. Suda’s face remained inscrutable as always.

Dr. Suda placed his fingertips on Nikke’s eyes and lifted the lids.

“No response at all. It’s as if his consciousness departed him. He was fine this morning, right? I wonder if something changed or if there was a trigger for this.”

The mention of a “trigger”

sparked a thought in Tomoya.

“That clinic!”

“Which clinic are you referring to? What kind of treatment did they provide?”

“No, it’s not a veterinary clinic. I mean Nakagyō Kokoro Clinic for the Soul, a peculiar mental health facility nearby. Since I visited that place, Nikké has been more alert around me. I initially thought it was a coincidence.”

He thought back to the exchange at the clinic. What had the doctor and nurse said?

Something about a cat on standby? The cat not being effective? They said to take the cat I have at home, and, if that didn’t work, to come back to the clinic, but they doubted I’d need to return?

“If Nikké doesn’t work…”

he mumbled. If I go back to the clinic, will he wake up?

He knew it was absurd. He wasn’t one to believe in fantastical notions.

Still, if there was even a slim chance, he had to go.