Page 6 of We’ll Prescribe You Another Cat

It was Tuesday, the day Moé had to return the cat. This time, she didn’t bring the leftover kitty litter. If she did have to give it back, she would buy more.

There was the alley, around the corner from the intersection where she and Reona had circled on Saturday. It wasn’t so much an I found it! rush of excitement, but more of a contented Ah, it was here satisfaction that she felt.

When she opened the door, she saw the nurse sitting at the reception window. Her sharp features and stern demeanor accentuated her beauty. If Moé wasn’t mistaken, the nurse’s name was Chitose. She remembered because it, too, was beautiful.

“Ms. Ohtani, please head to the examination room.”

Moé did as instructed and found the doctor waiting. She recalled that he, too, had an unusual name—Nikké.

Before Moé had even taken a seat, the doctor had begun to nod.

“Ahh, this is exactly what is supposed to happen, Ms. Ohtani. The effects of your cat prescription are kicking in, and you must be feeling drained. You have just one final push.”

“Do you mean…?”

“First of all, please show me the Cat Record.”

The doctor pored over it as he had done the week before, while Moé clutched the pet carrier containing Noelle on her lap.

“Hmm. It seems this cat has gone through all available varieties of cat litter while ensuring you were aware of her disapproval. In other words, she’s an I shouldn’t have to tell you kind of girl. A bit of a high-maintenance type.”

Is he actually analyzing the cat’s personality? The carrier wobbled as Noelle began to meow.

“Oh, pardon me. I actually quite like girls like that, you know. I always try to anticipate what it is they want and act accordingly. If my guess is off-mark, I notice it immediately. I’m a you don’t have to tell me kind of guy. I see, I see; when the litter tray was moved into the bathroom, she started using it with no trouble. The ventilation helped get rid of its odor. Thank you for going out of your way. Keeping an I shouldn’t have to tell you girl happy can be a challenging task.”

“Well, that’s…”

It was true that Noelle gave off I need to be pampered vibes, but she was also a stubborn cat who rarely sought out affection. She was precisely an I shouldn’t have to tell you girl. But Moé didn’t mind. Being bossed around was part of caring for a cat, and it involved creativity and effort. And the cuteness that she got back more than made up for the trouble.

“Noelle has been a good girl. It’s true that she wasn’t easy to take care of, but she was truly wonderful.”

“It seemed the cat was a good match. Now, shall we?”

The doctor picked up the pet carrier. Moé felt the release of the weight from her lap.

“Chitose! Please take the cat!”

the doctor called out toward the white curtain.

The nurse strode in, holding yet another pet carrier. She looked in a worse mood.

“Doctor, if you keep letting everyone skip the line, we might overlook the patient with an appointment.”

He chuckled.

“As a doctor, it’s unacceptable to overlook a patient, but it’s okay to make them wait a little. That’s what we have the comfy chair for.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,”

said the nurse curtly. She switched out the pet carriers and disappeared behind the curtain.

“Don’t pay her any mind. Our nurse can be a bit overbearing.”

“I see.”

Moé felt a mix of emotions. She had gotten used to these strange exchanges, but the thought that she might have cut the line made her feel a bit guilty.

There was probably another cat in the new carrier in the doctor’s arms. Was she going to be prescribed it for a third week? She felt simultaneously happy and sorry.

“Um, Dr. Nikké?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“Isn’t it inconvenient if someone like me with such small problems keeps coming back? Nothing that warrants medical attention, anyway.”

I don’t want to be separated from the person I love.

Her heart sank as she recalled what had brought her here in the first place. Today was Tuesday. There was nothing to be excited about.

“There’s no such thing as a big or a small problem,”

said the doctor, twisting his head as if bemused.

“As with cat poop, size doesn’t really matter. What goes in must come out. That’s how it works. Naturally, if you eat a lot, a lot will come out. But even small poops, if they don’t pass smoothly, can get stuck and build up, and before you know it, you’re in a helpless jam. That’s basically what constipation is.”

Moé listened closely, but halfway through Dr. Nikké’s explanation, her brow furrowed. Since when did my problem become about constipation? Is that what it’s really been from the start?

“Well, if you take this new cat for a week, you will see huge improvements. Just a little while longer. You can do this!”

The doctor turned the pet carrier toward her. Through the mesh panel, she could see the equilateral triangular ears. She leaned in toward the carrier.

“Is this one…also a Bengal?”

“Yes, he is,”

said the doctor.

From what she could make out through the mesh, the fur was a completely different color from the previous Bengals. He was almost completely black. I didn’t know they came in this color, too, she thought, staring unblinkingly.

“By the way, with this cat, what he’ll take in is going to be more complicated than what comes out.”

“What do you mean? I can’t just give him the cat food you provide?”

“Apparently, he used to compete in cat shows and ate home-cooked meals of lamb and horsemeat to bulk up. He’s retired now and has said good-bye to his swanky lifestyle. But I’m sure he’ll eat anything when he’s hungry. Now, take care.”

The doctor pressed the carrier into her arms.

His attitude had been casual, but Moé felt like he had said something important. Managing what came out was already complicated, but apparently, what went in could be equally tricky. She wondered if she’d be able to get through the week.

The nurse was sitting at the reception window. After seeing this woman a few times, Moé now knew she wasn’t being unfriendly for no reason. Her words might be harsh and her gaze pointed, but it was only because she was looking out for Dr. Nikké. Moé gave the nurse the prescription and was handed back a paper bag with a complete set of supplies—kitty litter, food, and an instruction leaflet.

“Name: Bibi. Male. Six years old. Bengal. Feed moderate amounts of cat food in the morning and at night. Water bowl must always be full. Clean kitty litter as needed. Will urinate two to four times a day; will defecate one to two times a day. Monitor the color, odor, shape, and volume of each excrement. To prevent urinary tract issues, it’s important for both felines and humans to have stress-free elimination. That’s all.”

It was just as she had expected.

She couldn’t assume that the cat would accept the kitty litter right away. And there was a chance he would immediately reject the cat food.

From what she understood, it was her job to try different things with each of the cats she had been prescribed. I’ll do some research, get some advice, and devise a plan. This time, the question she wanted to ask the nurse wasn’t about the cat.

“Did I really cut in before a patient with an appointment?”

The nurse gave her a glance.

“Don’t worry. Everyone does it.”

“If there’s someone with an appointment next Tuesday, I’m happy to come by on a different day.”

The nurse looked away.

“I don’t know if there is an appointment.”

“Huh?”

“To begin with, I don’t know if he’s actually waiting for him,”

the nurse muttered. When she finally looked up, she had a faint smile on her face.

“He’s so loosey-goosey, I sometimes struggle to understand him. The doctor’s patient is also peculiar like him. I can only wait patiently.”

“I see.”

So, does that mean I can cut the line?

The nurse, whose eyes seemed sorrowful today, was also a bit peculiar.

Just as Moé was about to leave, the nurse regained her blank expression and said, “Take care.”