When I slid into Cat Cafe playroom, bedecked in fuzzy bedroom slippers, I wondered why on earth I thought this could possibly go well.
After hours of aimless wandering through the crowded alleyways of Teramachi in Kyoto, I had grown quite frazzled. It was one of those long days of endless sightseeing, and my temper had begun to flicker. I knew it wouldn’t be a pretty picture if I didn’t get caffeine into my system soon.
I didn’t want to walk through Teramachi on my way out, as people flooded in from the station, so I cut off to a side street, in search for coffee. I came to a robotic stop the minute my brain scanned the word “café” along the side street, before I could even process what happened. Only then did I fully read the sign. It was a Cat Cafe, and as a touristy cat lover, I forgot my fatigue and hurried in.
It seemed like a great enough deal: 1000 yen for a 30-minute furry affair. The lady there told me I could pay after, so I brought my phone in the playroom, lest I got too absorbed in kitty cuddling and was charged more for my extra time. She included refreshments in the price. As I said, I forgot about my purely psychological caffeine addiction and ordered pureed peach juice.
When I slid into Cat Cafe playroom, bedecked in fuzzy bedroom slippers, I wondered why on earth I thought this could possibly go well.
There were about twenty cats, sprawling on shelves and hiding in boxes. They were fat and angry-looking, ears perpetually flattened to their heads, as customers lazily petted them. Every now and then, one would snap and snarl, flying to the other side of the room, bouncing off the air conditioning system in the process. The lady gave me a list of rules, one of which said that they wouldn’t treat me if a cat attacked me. Every one of the cats seemed like they were on the verge of mass-murder. The notice also said, “I am sorry for any hair in your cups.” I sipped my pureed peach juice cautiously.
I felt like I was speed-dating for the first 10 minutes of my experience, as I hopped cat-to-cat, giving each a tickle, and wondering if we would match-up as ideal play dates. Finally, I found one that was game. He was half-asleep on a shelf, but was the only one with a sense of fashion, as he wore a leopard print scarf. I approved of his attempt at flair, even though he was more of a “spring” than an “autumn,” so I began poking a little feather toy through the holes on the shelf.
At first, he wasn’t interested, but eventually, we played so much that we moved on to mouse toys.
It was cute to finally see the cats warm up to their guests. I laughed a few times at their ridiculous behavior, and it was a good 30-minute break from my sightseeing. After all, cats are cats and cannot resist challenges.
