“Shuta Kagawa. Twenty-five years old.”
“So, what brings you here today?”
Shuta gave a little shiver. He’d seen this scenario play out before. Each doctor had given him the same answer.
That’s tough. You don’t have to work so hard.
It’s good that you came to see me. Thank you.
Then they would all prescribe him similar medications. It wasn’t the doctors but the sleeping pills that had helped.
“I…”
Insomnia, tinnitus, loss of appetite.
Whenever work crossed his mind, his chest constricted, his breathing turned shallow, and sleep eluded him. His symptoms were so common that the doctors never thought anything of them. This time, he was determined to explain his condition properly and overcome it once and for all. But before he knew it, his true feelings slipped out.
“I want to quit my job.”
“Is that so?” the doctor replied.
Shuta realized what he’d said. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t actually want to quit. I want to figure out how to carry on working at my current company. I work for a major brokerage firm—you know, the kind that you see in commercials. The thing is, it’s run like a sweatshop.”
“I see,” said the doctor. Then he broke into another smile. “We’ll prescribe you a cat. Let’s keep an eye on your condition.” He spun around in his chair and called out to the back. “Chitose, can you bring the cat?”
“Sure,” answered a voice from behind the curtains. The pale nurse from earlier entered. There was a luster in her eyes that Shuta hadn’t noticed before. She was beautiful in an understated way. Shooting Shuta a wry look, she asked brusquely, “Are you sure he’s right for this, Dr. Nikké?”
“Absolutely.”
What an odd place, and Nikké—what a weird name.
The nurse placed a pet carrier on the desk and silently slipped away. Inside the plastic crate was a cat.
Shuta was at a loss for words. He stared unblinkingly at the cat before him.
It is an actual cat. Gray, unremarkable, ordinary.
The cat sat partially in shadow, but its large round eyes shimmered with a golden hue. It looked warily back at Shuta.
“So, Mr. Kagawa, let’s try this for a week.”
“…”
“I’m writing you a prescription.”
“You’re writing me a prescription?”
“Correct.”
Shuta looked at the cat in the carrier.
“Is that…a cat?”
“It is.”
Shuta was starting to question his sanity.
“A real cat?”
“Of course. They’re very effective. You know the old saying: ‘A cat a day keeps the doctor away.’ Cats are more effective than any other medicine out there.”
That doesn’t make any sense.
The doctor handed Shuta a small piece of paper. “Here’s your prescription form. Please take it to reception, and you’ll be given what you need. I’ll see you again in a week. Now, I have another patient waiting…” He indicated the door as if to say You can go now.
Shuta snapped out of his daze. He felt laughter welling within him.
“I see what this is,” he said with a chuckle. “This is what they call animal-assisted therapy, right?”
The doctor didn’t respond but sat back in his chair with an inscrutable look.
“Is it part of your therapy to take your patients by surprise? Now I see why you haven’t posted any details about the clinic anywhere. I sure panicked for a moment there. Prescribing cats…That’s pretty interesting.”
He placed his nose close to the carrier and peered inside. The cat widened its eyes and returned his gaze. Shuta knew nothing about animals, but this cat seemed equally bewildered.
“The cat’s very cute, but it doesn’t seem to like me much.”
“Hmm? Let me see.”
