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.
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 statues at Setagaya shrine. Credit: PITB
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.
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.
“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.
“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!”
Felines play a major role in Ghostwire: Tokyo, a horror adventure from Japanese studio Tango.
The premise of Ghostwire: Tokyo is simple: The entire human population of the city has vanished in some mysterious, cataclysmic supernatural event, leaving the heart of Tokyo silent, vacant and draped in an ethereal fog.
Instead of the bustle of humanity, the city is now populated by demons and yōkai, which are roughly equivalent to ghosts in Japanese folklore.
Only one human survives: Akito, our protagonist. He remains alive due to pure luck after a spirit named KK inhabits his body, intending to use it to fight the supernatural forces that have emptied Tokyo of its human inhabitants.
Akito and KK come to an uneasy truce sharing one body due to their aligned goals. KK’s presence not only allows Akito to survive the malevolent forces at work, but also imbues him with fantastic elemental powers to wield against the yōkai prowling the otherwise empty streets: He can summon wind, fire and water, and cleanse spirits and locations with Shinto prayer rituals.
A torii gate.
Akito performs a ritual to cleanse a torii gate.
Akito is set on rescuing his sister from sharing the same fate as hundreds of thousands of others, while KK spent his human life — and now his afterlife — trying to stop the mysterious figure behind the spirit invasion from harvesting human souls. For Akito to do the former, he and KK must do the latter.
Oh, and there are animals — lots of scared, confused cats and dogs who don’t know what to make of the city’s supernatural new inhabitants and don’t understand why the humans have gone missing. KK’s powers allow Akito to read animals’ thoughts.
“I can’t smell my buddy anywhere,” a confused dog tells me early in the game, whimpering as he wanders near the Shibuya scramble crossing.
It’s worth paying attention to Ghostwire’s lost pets. Feed a dog and the good boy could lead you to a cache of cash or a Jizo statue where you can say a prayer and augment your powers. Stop to pet and talk to a cat, and she might tell you a yokai is hiding nearby, disguising itself as an every day object.
True to a country obsessed with felines going back centuries, a cat isn’t always just a cat in the world of Ghostwire: Tokyo.
There are your regular domestic pets and strays, which are simply called neko, the Japanese word for cat. Akito encounters them often, comforts them and can read their thoughts with KK’s powers. Like the dogs, they’re confused, scared and hungry.
A cute cat warns me about nearby malevolent spirits.
A good boy leads me to a statue of Jizō Bosatsu, a deity who watches over children and travelers, and eases the suffering of lost souls.
“You’ve gotta spend money to make money, so why not spend it here with meow?”
This nekomata was meowing a hilariously out-of-tune song when I passed his shop stall.
Akito with a cat.
Then there are nekomata, which are the spirits of domestic cats who have become yōkai. Nekomata have made themselves at home in the absence of humans, showing their entrepreneurial spirit. The ghost cats have taken over every convenience store and kiosk in the city, urging Akito and KK to buy their snacks and supernatural wares to “be purrpared” for what awaits them.
“You’ve gotta spend money to make money,” one nekomata tells me, “so why not spend it here with meow?”
Nekomata are not to be confused with bakeneko, who are also yōkai but differ from their spirit cat cousins in subtle ways. Bakeneko can be friendly, mischievous or ambivalent, they can move without making a sound, and like nekomata they can speak and understand human language. Unlike nekomata, which have two tails, bakeneko only have one.
Finally, there are maneki neko. You’ve seen maneki neko even if you don’t realize it, probably on the counter of your local Japanese grocery, sushi house or Chinese restaurant. They’re the smiling, beckoning cats who are said to bring good fortune, health and other benefits. They’re based on the legend of a friendly cat who led a road-weary Japanese feudal lord and his men to a sanctuary just before a violent thunderstorm centuries ago, and have become ubiquitous in Japan and wider Asian culture.
For a game with a grim premise set in an empty but lived-in city, there’s plenty of bizarre humor as well. One mission has you delivering toilet paper to a human spirit who really, really needs to wipe after an epic bowel movement before he can move on and rest easy in the afterlife.
On another occasion I stopped to admire the detail and near-photorealistic beauty of a street bordering a shrine when I heard a nekomata hilariously meowing a cheerful song out of tune. When I turned toward the little cat, I saw him floating in the air and bouncing to his happy song.
As Akito, the player is tasked with lifting the fog from neighborhoods of central Tokyo, rescuing the spirits of deceased humans before they can be harvested by the demons and yōkai, and investigating the what, why and how of Tokyo’s takeover by malevolent spirits.
Akito and KK accomplish the former by “cleansing” Tokyo’s many shrines using a ritual performed at the shrine torii gates. Once a torii gate is cleansed, the fog around it subsides and more of Tokyo opens up for exploration and investigation. Meanwhile, Akito and KK must fight off yōkai to reach the floating spirits of Tokyo’s citizens, using a talisman to secure them. The duo can then “wire” the spirits to an ally outside the city, who helps return them to their bodies. The game keeps track of how many souls are saved, with the count rising to the hundreds of thousands for adept players.
One of the nastier yokai, toting an umbrella.
A yokai who takes the form of a headless, ethereal Japanese schoolgirl. If you let them get too close, they can seriously hurt and even kill you.
Akito performs a ritual to cleanse a torii gate.
The game remains true to Japanese folklore in the way it presents enemies, who are usually corruptions of human souls who have deep regrets about their lives. The spirits represent anxieties unique to, or prevalent in, Japanese society.
There are Rain Walkers, unnaturally thin salarymen toting umbrellas who advance on you inexorably, representing the angry spirits of men who spent their entire lives in service to a corporation, hardly spending time with their families or raising their kids because they work so much.
There are the Students of Pain and Misery, headless schoolgirls and schoolboys representing the spirits of teenagers whose grades couldn’t carry them into good universities, damning them to a life of tedious, low-paying jobs. Those are real concerns in a country where students spend in excess of 10 hours a day, six days a week in school. Teenagers are under enormous pressure to get top grades, and teen suicide is a major contributor to the country’s unusually high suicide rates.
Spirits of Lamentation are dangerous and move in sickeningly unnatural ways as spirits of people who were estranged from loved ones, while the small, raincoat-clad Forsaken are the spirits of abused children.
These malevolent spirits and others wander the streets, linger in alleys and leap across rooftops, but they also form groups called Hyakki Yagyo, which are parades of oni and yōkai who march through the streets of Japanese cities on summer nights, according to folklore.
You’ll hear the Hyakki Yagyo before you see it, tipped off by the booming taiko drums that accompany the ghostly parade.
The arrival of Hyakki Yagyo in Ghostwire is impressively atmospheric: Lights and neon signs flicker and die out, while taiko drums boom from the mists. Then you see the spirits — yōkai with their umbrellas, massive demons, bizarre apparitions.
The first time I encountered a Hyakki Yagyo, I was so engrossed in watching the procession that I didn’t realize I was in its path until it was too late. I learned that if you get too close, the spirits yank you into an ethereal plane and surround you in numbers, determined to end your physical existence and make you one of them. Those encounters are among the most difficult in the game, but they’re also a fun test of skill.
Ghostwire gives us the most complete recreation of Tokyo in any game to date, and it’s magnificent. The metropolis extends seemingly forever in every direction, with 36 million people living a metro area that sprawls for almost 1,000 square miles. (That’s three times the size of New York with all its boroughs.)
Because of that, no game studio can handle the challenge of recreating the entire city on a 1:1 scale, and Ghostwire doesn’t attempt it. Instead the game world encompasses the famous Shibuya district and part of Minato City, two of the most bustling and famous districts in the heart of Tokyo. It’s a massive playground stretching from west of the scramble crossing, through Roppongi and all the way to Tokyo Tower.
Ghostwire is beautiful, polished and a hell of a lot of fun to play. You’re not going to find the gloriously intuitive combat of a game like Control, or even an experience like the fluid melee action of Shadow Warrior 2. Ghostwire’s combat is pedestrian compared to those games, but it becomes more fun and interesting as the game progresses and you’re given different powers and options to deal with a growing variety of ghastly enemies.
The lure of a game like this is its moody atmosphere, magnificent visuals, tense sound design and a plot that weaves hundreds of years of Japanese folklore into the mix, creating a world unlike anything else in gaming.
The writing deftly transitions between serious and funny, tense and lighthearded, and the partnership between Akito and KK allows for a running dialogue throughout the game, with the two of them asking each other questions, arguing over tasks and reacting to the craziness around them. What starts out as an uneasy alliance held together by necessity becomes grudging mutual respect and eventually friendship.
Rounding out the cast of characters are Mari, Rinko, KK’s friend Ed, and the masked protagonist. Rinko is the spirit of a woman who worked with KK in their human lives. Rinko and KK were killed for their determination, and in death they continue the fight against the malevolent spirits. Ed is a weirdo: He’s KK’s man on the outside, helping to reunite the severed souls of Tokyo with their human bodies when Akito and KK rescue them, but the only way to talk to Ed is by payphone — and even then, he only answers in recordings.
Mari is Akito’s sister, who was unconscious and helpless in a hospital when everyone vanished. More than anything, Akito wants to protect her.
Finally, there’s the man in a oni mask, the mysterious mastermind behind the supernatural takeover of Tokyo. Who is he? What does he want? Can he be defeated?
To answer those questions requires an adventure very much worth having.
Title: Ghostwire: Tokyo Release date: March 25, 2022 Platforms: PC, Playstation 5 Audience: Mature Cats: Many
Akito pulls the “cores” from two yokai during a battle sequence in Ghostwire: Tokyo.
A cat stares out from a living portrait in a
A maneki neko during a warped reality sequence.
A trio of stray cats who tell Akito they’re worried about the vanishing humans.
Little Kitty joins two other highly-anticipated games that put players in the paws of feline protagonists.
It looks like 2022 is going to be a banner year for the fledgling “play as a cat” genre of video games.
There’s the long-awaited adventure game Stray, slated for early next year, in which the player is an orange tabby navigating an eerie future Hong Kong with heavy cyberpunk vibes. Then there’s Peace Island, an open world mystery game that gives players the choice to switch between nine different cats who are tasked with finding out what happened to their humans and all the other people who have suddenly vanished.
Now there’s a third feline-centric game in the mix: Little Kitty, Big City, which offers players the chance to adventure as a playful black cat with bright green eyes. The goal of Little Kitty, Big City is to help the title kitty find its way home, but as the trailer below repeatedly points out, cats tend to get side tracked:
One thing that stands out immediately is the art style. Stray is all dark urban environs drenched in neon, with neighborhoods inspired by Hong Kong’s former Kowloon Walled City. The title cat is determined, resourceful and adept at navigating dangerous situations, with a big part of the game’s focus not only on achieving goals, but achieving them the way a cat would.
Peace Island occupies a halfway point between Stray’s hi-fidelity noir realism and Little Kitty’s polygonal pastels. The titular island is picturesque and the game emphasizes beautiful sunsets, heavy undergrowth and local animal life. The environment itself is a character of sorts, as the players will have to mine their surroundings for clues about the missing people.
By contrast, Little Kitty, Big City offers us a heavily stylized Japanese metropolis with blue skies, bright colors and a whimsical narrative. The feline protagonist has a goal, but there are also so many boxes to explore, so many trash cans that might yield yums, and yes, plenty of laptops to sit on during grooming sessions. There aren’t mysteries to solve or enemies to watch out for, just a journey that rewards the player for doing what a cat does.
The game’s creators write:
“You’re a curious little kitty with a big personality, on an adventure to find your way back home. Explore the city, make new friends, wear delightful hats, and leave more than a little chaos in your wake. After all, isn’t that what cats do best?”
Above: Stray leans heavily into the cyberpunk aesthetic with Bladerunneresque visuals in a futuristic city.
Above: The cats of Peace Island investigate their eerily quiet home town as they piece together the mystery of the missing humans.
Stray was originally slated for late 2021, but has been pushed back to early 2022. Delays in the video game industry aren’t unusual, and as many publishers have learned the hard way, rushing to release a buggy, unfinished game is always a mistake.
Peace Island doesn’t have a release date yet, and as for Little Kitty, Big City, its Steam page simply says: “Planned release date: Cats don’t have deadlines.”
Pain In The Bud 