Tokyo – Pain In The Bud

Cat Beds, Feline Football Experts, And The ‘Elitism’ Of Paying For Veterinary Care

Do cats ever do what we want them to do?

I expected something truly extravagant when a reader wrote to Slate’s advice column to say she was considering doing something “wildly elitist” involving her cat.

What could it be? I wondered. Pure gold or silver eating and drinking bowls, a la Choupette? A fashionable $600 pet stroller like the young, childless women of Tokyo favor for their felines? Feeding premium meat from the butcher exclusively to her cat?

None of the above, it turns out. The allegedly “wildly elitist” thing this woman was deliberating was simply paying a veterinarian to have dental work done on her cat, with costs estimated at between $800 and $2,000, depending on the extent of the kitty’s cavities.

To make matters even stranger, the letter writer says the cost won’t be a financial hardship for her family. Their cat is only three years old, she notes, and the family has had him since he was found on the street as a kitten.

“I guess I didn’t think that part of taking him in would entail thousands of dollars to keep him alive at this stage of the game,” she wrote. “At what point do people draw the line on what it costs to save a cat’s life?”

The writer was essentially looking for “permission” to have the cat put down, for Slate’s advice columnist to virtually pat her on the head, say “There, there!” and agree that taking care of your own cat is “wildly elitist.”

Thankfully, Slate columnist Athena Valentine was having none of it, telling the woman seeking advice that “when you adopt an animal, you take financial responsibility.” Spending money on veterinary care when needed, Valentine noted, is “exactly what you signed up for” by adopting the little guy. A cat who, by the way, could easily live another decade at least.

“If you do not want to pay for your cat’s treatment, please surrender him to a rescue that will,” Valentine wrote. “The rescue will raise the funds you do not want to part with to pay for his teeth and will then adopt him out to a new home that understands the responsibilities of pet ownership. I also advise you to not adopt any more animals until you’re fully ready to accept the financial obligations that come with it.”

Cheers to Valentine for not taking the bait.

Do your feline overlords use their own beds?

One of the first things I bought for Bud, along with his litter box, bowls and toys, was a bed. It’s nothing extravagant, but it does look pretty comfortable.

He has never used it.

Or rather, he lounged on it a handful of times when he was a kitten, but he claimed my bed as his own. He was very clear on the new ownership situation, and generously allowed me to continue sleeping on my his bed as long as I accepted the fact that he would use me as a pillow, which he has been doing for more than a decade now.

A Newsweek story details the efforts of a woman who bought her cat a new bed, hoping he’d let her sleep at night, only for the feline overlord to drag his new bed onto her bed. Essentially, she bought him a new pillow.

Do cats ever do what we want them to? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

A cat whose fantasy soccer team ranked 222 out of 13 million players

At The Athletic, Conor Schmidt writes about creating a fantasy football (soccer) team for his cat, and letting the little guy choose who to draft and trade by writing the names of players on a dry erase board and putting treats next to each name. The first treat his cat goes for is the one whose associated player is dealt or drafted.

He says his cat reached an astonishing world ranking of 222 out of almost 13 million players on the same platform worldwide, which means either the little dude has incredible luck, or he’s a genius who knows a lot more than he lets on.

Maybe I should register a fantasy basketball or baseball team for Buddy, smear turkey gravy next to players’ names, and see how he does.

Wordy Wednesday: Visiting Japan’s Snow Monkeys

Meet the Japanese macaques, also known as snow monkeys, living in an enclosure on the side of Mt. Takao, about an hour from Tokyo.

A note on this series: Although I published some of these photos earlier, the majority have been recovered from an old drive that took a circuitous route of more than five years, three continents and four countries to get back to me. I plan to run them in themed segments on Wednesdays this summer, including Tokyo nightlife, shrines, cityscapes and more. This week’s photos are from the snow monkey exhibit at Mt. Takao.

Japanese macaques are the northernmost-dwelling of any non-human primate species.

They’re built for the cold, with heavier coats than their cousins, the rhesus, long-tailed and bonnet macaques. They also sleep in well-organized groups, rotating so each monkey gets time in the center to soak up body heat, and they’re famous for keeping warm in northern Japan’s hot springs.

But as these photos show, snow monkeys are also adaptable, and they make the best of things during the hot, humid summers at Mt. Takao, about 51 km (30 miles) from Tokyo.

These photos were taken on a hot day in June when I was one of only a handful of visitors.

Welcome to Mount Takao! So you want to see snow monkeys?

“The milk bar’s open!” Snow monkeys, aka Japanese macaques, are extremely attentive mothers. This baby is is about 8 to 10 weeks old and completely dependent on mom.

“I’ve had my fill of milk, now it’s time to explore!”

“But mom won’t let me go far! I’m too young to go off on my own, and mom is really protective of me.”

A keeper at the Mt. Takao monkey enclosure. She has a hat…but not for long. Note the mischievous monkey on her shoulders, who’s waiting for just the right moment to grab her hat and run.

The monkey on the left is like: “Oh crap, here it comes!”

The keeper is staring daggers directly at me. There was a small crowd at the Mt. Takao snow monkey exhibit that day, and while the Hat Incident delighted the onlookers, the keeper was *not* amused when she saw me snapping away. I’m pretty sure she wanted to throttle me. Sorry!

Getting her hat back was not an easy task. The devious little monkey who made off with it immediately retreated into a small cave/shelter system big enough for the macaques, but too small for humans to enter. Making matters worse, there were at least four or five entrances and exits. Every time the keeper approached, the little monkey darted inside and popped up through a different hole, like a game of wack a mole. Eventually it took both keepers to retrieve the hat.

I was super close to this little lady. She was probably about two or three years old.

Macaques live in troops of up to 300 members, and their societies are matrilinear, meaning an individual monkey’s “rank” in the troop’s social hierarchy is determined by who their mother is.

Macaque troops are headed by alphas who are the strongest males and deal directly with protecting troop members, but the matriarch runs most aspects of troop life.

Here, a snow monkey mom hugs her child. The bond between moms and their kids is strong. Daughters stay with their mothers and their troops for life, while sons remain in the troop until they’re about five years old, at which time they depart to avoid inbreeding. They often go on to live as bachelors in small groups before joining or starting their own troops.

This baby is geckering. A gecker is a “loud, pulsed vocalization” usually described as a “broken, staccato noise.” People often think of it as a baby macaque throwing a temper tantrum, but it’s more than that, and it’s involuntary, meaning the babies can’t control it. In plain English, it’s a noise, accompanied by spasms and made by babies and young macaques when they’re particularly upset. Babies usually gecker when they’re separated from their mothers, being bullied by older monkeys, or in situations when they want to nurse but their moms won’t let them.

Another mom with a young nursing baby. This baby is a bit older than the one above, probably about three months old.

The first baby again. Notice how mom is grooming the baby. Grooming is an important aspect of macaque social relations, in addition to serving the practical function of clearing insects and other debris from fur.

More social grooming. The monkey on the right is attentively picking insects from the fur of the monkey on the left.

He’s big, he’s old, he’s battle-scarred. He’s the alpha, and he always gets groomed first, whenever he wants. He also eats first, enjoys the best lounging spots, and gets to mate with his choice of females. In the wild, alphas don’t retain their thrones long, often being deposed within a year or two. Extraordinary alphas who keep their troops in good stead and enjoy an aura of invincibility can last a decade or longer.

Babies nurse for as many as two years and spend almost the entire first year of their lives holding onto their moms. That’s one reason why the practice of buying baby monkeys — or any monkeys — as pets is incredibly cruel, and it’s why pet monkeys are always seen clinging to stuffed animals. They’re taken from their mothers within hours or days, and they need the tactile comfort of holding onto — and being held by — their mothers.

Harry Harlowe’s infamous experiments in the 1960s proved that the physical comfort of being held is crucial to the psychological development of all primates, humans included. If a baby is denied that, the consequences manifest as severe psychological issues later in life.

A male member of the troop. It’s not clear if this guy was brought in from another captive troop elsewhere in the country, or if he’s native to the Mt. Takao troop. If it’s the latter, at his age — about four or five years old, give or take — he’ll be expected to soon depart. Young males leave their troops to avoid inbreeding and potential violence as they become stronger and are viewed as potential rivals to the alpha and/or his lieutenants.

Adios, humans!

Tokyo’s ‘Waving Cat’ Temple, Gōtoku-ji, Has Run Out Of Cats

The world-famous cat shrine has experienced a surge in tourism, leaving it bereft of the familiar statues that are inspired by the legend of a friendly cat.

Gōtoku-ji temple has a unique problem.

The complex, where legend says a friendly waving cat led a Japanese feudal lord and his men to warmth and safety ahead of a brutal storm, has seen an influx of travelers since Japan relaxed its COVID-era restrictions and tourists have returned.

Now Gōtoku-ji can’t keep up with the demand for maneki neko, the ubiquitous “beckoning cat” statues that visitors purchase at the shrine’s tiny gift shop, the Washington Post says in a new report. People who come to the temple write prayers on the statues and place them in a perpetually-expanding section of the shrine grounds.

The cats are said to bring good luck, with variations in their designs and colors: red for health, pink for love, gold for success and so on. White maneki neko, which are sold at the shrine, are the original and “all purpose” prayer cats. The shrine is Buddhist, but practitioners of Shinto, Jainism, Christianity and other religions write prayers on the little cats, hoping they’ll be heard by whichever version of God they believe in.

The manufacturer, which also makes statues for the Lunar New Year and other festivities, can’t keep up with the demand. Now staff at Gōtoku-ji have put up signs apologizing to visitors. They say they don’t know when they’ll get more maneki neko.

When I visited in 2019 there were many thousands of the iconic statues, but the photos from Monday’s WaPo story show thousands more placed on recently-built shelves. Temple staff have begun asking visitors to take their maneki neko home with them instead of leaving them at Gōtoku-ji. They clean, shelve and organize the thousands of statues currently there and won’t dispose of them because they represent the prayers of visitors, but the volume has become unmanageable.

Maneki Neko at Setagaya Tokyo — Visitors leave their own maneki neko statues at the shrine, often with personal messages asking for different blessings and written in black marker on the back of the statues. Credit: Pain In The Bud

Despite Gōtoku-ji’s rise in popularity, I still recommend checking it out, especially for cat lovers who are headed to Japan. While most of Tokyo’s most famous shrines are located in the city proper, with modern skyscrapers looming above temples that date to pre-modern Japan — never letting you forget you’re in a bustling metropolis — Gōtoku-ji is in Setagaya, a mostly-residential ward.

The temple grounds are surrounded by homes and they’re quiet in a way that others aren’t. The shrine is well-manicured and beautiful, dotted with statuary as well as centuries-old wooden temple structures.

When I was there a smiling elderly docent walked the grounds carrying a photo album that showed the temple and its structures over the years. With my sister-in-law’s rudimentary Japanese we were able to get a bit around the language barrier, and he told me one of the most striking buildings, a three-story tiered wooden tower, was home to one of the resident cats who liked to sleep on its second floor.

I wasn’t able to catch a glimpse of the little one but I imagine Gōtoku-ji is one of the best places on the planet a stray cat could call home. Like the people of Turkey, respect for cats is ingrained in Japanese culture and temple cats in particular are treated extremely well. Some even have their own Instagram pages and fan clubs, becoming tourist draws in their own right.

Maneki Neko Setagaya Tokyo — Maneki Neko statues at Setagaya shrine. Credit: PITB

Clarence The Three-Legged Kitten, Plus: Happy New Year From A Cat Cafe In Tokyo

Fellow blogger Molly Hunt is fostering a special little guy who’s recovering from an amputation.

Blogger, cozy mystery cat writer and foster parent Molly Hunt has opened her home to a special little guy, and following his progress is a good reminder of the great work so many cat lovers do — walking the walk, as they say.

Molly’s charge, Clarence, is just a kitten but he’s already had a really rough go of it:

“Clarence, a six-month-old kitten, came to the Oregon Humane Society with a 1.5” round wound on his right hip. Tests traced its origin to a mass attached to the bone which may have occurred when a previous fracture healed badly. The left hip had also been affected by the trauma. The upshot was surgery on the left hip and the amputation of the entire right leg. Two days later, the call went out for a foster parent, a call that I happily answered.

It had been several months since I’d fostered a cat, and I was excited to begin again. I have a designated foster room with a pleasantly equipped kennel where I’d cared for many cats with mobility issues. I thought this one would be similar—limited movement, no running or jumping, and a twice-daily set of physical therapy exercises. I wasn’t worried about the fact he had only three legs. I’ve seen tripod cats who got along just fine, not limited by their disability as humans tend to be. I understood this would be a new experience for me, but I forgot to take into account that it was a new experience for Clarence too.”

Molly writes movingly about Clarence, his trauma upon waking up to find a leg missing, and the way he’s quickly adapted to his new situation. Cats are incredibly resilient, especially when they have the love and care of a good human to help them along:

Clarence was shocked to find out he no longer had a back leg. I’ve rarely seen cats react with that sort of complete panic. It’s usually caused by a loud noise such as fireworks or something unexpectedly crashing to the ground. This was different. This was Clarence’s own private terror.

Despite his initial shock, Clarence has been learning how to get around on three legs and he’s even gotten back to playing with his favorite toys. We wish Clarence and Molly the best on their journey together and if Clarence doesn’t end up as a foster “fail,” we hope he finds a forever home full of support and love. Click here to read parts one, two and three from Molly.

Happy New Year From Tokyo

John Mayer brought some feline fun to the New Year’s Eve festivities this year when he called in to CNN’s broadcast from a cat cafe in Tokyo, amusing Anderson Cooper to no end:

The cafe is called Cats In The Box and it’s located in Shinjuku. I’ve got some photos of the exterior of the place from my time there — unlike the cat cafe I visited in Roppongi, Cats In The Box has prominent, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over one of Tokyo’s busiest neighborhoods, so you can’t miss it. From the street you can see the furry residents climbing their cat condos and chasing toys as if they’re saying “Come on in, join the fun and buy me some of that good ‘nip, will ya?”

Japan is famously in love with cats, and in addition to having several cat cafes, Shinjuku also boasts a famous 3D billboard that features a cute calico padding around and meowing in between advertisements.

Click to play the short video below:

Bring Your Cat To The Movies? One Theater Chain Now Welcomes Furry Friends

Would you bring your cat(s) to the movies?

The whole pet thing takes on a different vibe in Asia.

I first saw it in Tokyo where people push their cats along in baby strollers and luxury shops sell thousand-dollar accessories for felines and canines alike.

In countries like China it’s become a thing to dress pets in “cute little outfits” and pose them like dolls for social media snaps.

Now in Thailand — which is second only to China in pet ownership on the continent — people can bring their cats and dogs to the movies.

Agence France-Presse sent a reporter there to witness costumed Chihuahuas and poodles arrive by stroller and sit next to their humans for a screening of The Little Mermaid. A cat, who probably had no idea what the hell was going on, was plopped down on the seat next to her human.

Movie cat — “Shhhh! Some of us are trying to watch The Lion King here!” Credit: PITB

A spokesman for the Bangkok cineplex told AFP he thinks pet-friendly cinemas will bring people back to the movies after the pandemic. Pet owners, he said, have been less likely to leave home because their animals are now used to having them around all the time and experience separation anxiety when they leave.

As Bud’s loyal servant I know he does have separation anxiety, but I wouldn’t bring him to the local Alamo Drafthouse or AMC even if they had pet-friendly screenings here.

For one thing, he’s a damn cat! He’s not interested in screens unless they’re showing birds feasting on seeds in a forest, with all the accompanying sounds, while he’s viewing it from the safety of his own home

Second, I know precisely how he’d react, and he wouldn’t take well to being in a theater with a bunch of dogs and a handful of other cats. He’d spend half the movie hissing and the other half crying. I can’t imagine it being a fun experience for him.

Then there’s the “dress code.” Pets in Thailand’s new animal-friendly screenings must wear diapers and sit in bags provided by the theater. This is to ensure they won’t defecate all over the seats, obviously, but my cat has never even tolerated a collar. The chances of him accepting a diaper are zero.

Cat at the movies — “You gotta see Keanu in IMEOWX, my feline friends. It’s meowgnificent.” Credit: PITB

Lastly, at the risk of getting myself into trouble, the entire idea sounds about as appealing as trying to watch a non-kids movie in a theater full of screaming six-year-olds.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved accompanying my nieces to see the Super Mario Brothers movie, watching their delight at seeing the Mushroom Kingdom, Princess Peach, Mario and Luigi brought to life. (“You kids today with your Nintendo Switches, your fancy graphics and your networked games. We had Gameboy. It only had two colors, and you had to put little cartridges inside it to play games, and when they didn’t work we had to blow the dust out of ’em. You don’t know how good you got it, you kids today!”)

But do I want to be responsible for a feline with the intellectual development of a young child while I’m trying to watch a movie? If by some miracle Bud would stop hissing and/or crying, he’d focus on me and start yapping for snacks.

The movies just aren’t a great place for cats, and I’m not sure dogs would be thrilled to be there either.

Now, a hookah bar where you could bring your cat and give him his own little hookah filled with catnip? Maybe that could work.

“Yes, I’ll take an Amstel Light and a bag of your best Meowie Wowie for my little buddy here. Can I see the bar food and pate menus as well? We’ve just come from seeing John Wick 11 at the movies and we’re both famished!”