The Travelling Cat Chronicles

by Hiro Arikawa

My idea was to let him look after me until I recovered, but I’d always planned to leave once my wound was healed. Let me rephrase that. I thought I had to leave.

Distant relatives you hardly ever see are, to a child, like total strangers. Friends are much closer. Why don’t adults understand that?

“Some people really shouldn’t become parents. There’s no absolute guarantee when it comes to the love between a parent and their child.”

“My Hachi died. Back when I was in high school. Your Hachi, Kosuke, is still alive.”

“You have to mourn your cat properly, or you won’t get over it. Don’t just sit here fretting about being too late. Go there and mourn him. Tell him you’re sorry you didn’t make it in time, that you wanted to see him.”

For the rest of my life, I would remember all the shades of red Satoru mentioned that day.

When an animal’s life is over, it rests where it falls, and it often seems to me that humans are such worriers, to think of preparing a place for people to sleep when they are dead. If you have to consider what’s going to happen after you die, life becomes doubly troublesome.

As several dogs and cats had told me earlier, that doesn’t smell like he’s got much longer scent was only getting stronger. No creatures ever get better once they have that smell.