The Guest Cat

Then she told me about a philosopher who said that observation is at its core an expression of love which doesn’t get caught up in sentiment.

Having played to her heart's content, Chibi would come inside and rest for a while. When she began to sleep on the sofa--like a talisman curled gently in the shape of a comma and dug up from a prehistoric archaeological site--a deep sense of happiness arrived, as if the house itself had dreamed this scene.

I wonder where it all comes from - this need to go to the place where the body has been laid to rest. It's the need to reconfirm how precious someone was and how irreplaceable, and the desire to reconnect with them on a different plane.

The word “to grieve” or “lament” in Japanese is actually made up of two different kanji characters — “sadness” and “resentment.

Looking back on it now, I’d say one’s thirties are a cruel age. At this point, I think of them as a time I whiled away unaware of the tide that can suddenly pull you out, beyond the shallows, into the sea of hardship, and even death.

All I want is to know what happened - I want to somehow grasp every detail of the events of that day, that one day like a tiny dewdrop... but now it's all engulfed in the profound darkness of time.

For me, Chibi is a friend with whom I share an understanding, and who just happens to have taken on the form of a cat.

Observation is at its core an expression of love which doesn’t get caught up in sentiment.

The noble-minded do not thrust others aside in order to make their way in the world. But then they themselves are ultimately thrust aside by the advancing tide.

There are a few cat lovers among my close friends, and I have to admit that there have been moments when that look of excessive sweet affection oozing from around their eyes has left me feeling absolutely disgusted. Having devoted themselves to cats, body and soul, they seem at times utterly indifferent to shame.

Chibi was a jewel of a cat.

The act of writing also crosses borders indiscriminately.

There's a photographer who says cat lovers always believe their own cat is better looking than anyone else's. According to her, they've all got blinders on.

By late autumn the yard would grow thick with fallen leaves, causing the landlady to heave many deep sighs.

The cat’s manner of rejection was like cold, white light.

My wife gazed back. Then she thought of how they would soon have to part, and all the conflicted feelings came rushing in. "After all, she isn't really ours... But maybe I wish she really were...". Chibi stared intently with her deep green eyes at the clear liquid flowing from my wife's eyes and rolling down her cheeks - these human things called tears.

Below the zelkova tree time had stopped. At the foot of a little pine tree in its shadow, the most important of gems lay sleeping. Perhaps a window with a distant view of that place would allow us to yield to the natural process of forgetting.

Los seres nobles no pretenden apartar a los demás para abrir su propio camino.

(...) los gatos únicamente abren su corazón a sus dueños, solo a ellos les muestran su verdadero esplendor.

Adesso mi ritrovo a pensare che i trent'anni siano un'età orribile: un tempo in cui ci si diverte senza rendersi conto di essere sul confine tra il successo e il fallimento.

My wife felt very close to animals, but there was one kind of animal she viscerally disliked: ducks. Perhaps if a cicada were being attacked by a duck the idiot in me would become a god and save it, but if a duck were attacking a praying mantis, or if in the unlikely event a praying mantis were throttling a duck I suppose the two of us would just stay in bed shaking until the whole thing was over. Funny these aversions we have for certain things.

So I took the key and went inside the abandoned garden. I stood there alone for a while. The old man and the old woman were gone. My wife and the cat were also no longer there, and I too was already gone.

Finding a new cat would be the quickest and most effective means of soothing the sadness this was the accepted wisdom.

Para los seres vivos, sin embargo, dar media vuelta en determinado punto del camino, deslizarse hacia un interior a través del intersticio de una puerta, ¿no es acaso un gesto espontáneo, un gesto de la misma naturaleza que el que hace brotar un arroyo? Algo que se repite de sol a sol hasta formar una corriente que un día desembocará en un río más caudaloso...

Después de jugar hasta el agotamiento, Chibi adquirió la costumbre de volver a entrar en el pabellón para descansar un rato. La primera vez que durmió con nosotros, tumbado en el sofá como una perla, con la cola que parecía dibujar una coma, la casa entera se inundó de una profunda alegría, una de esas escenas solo alcanzables en los sueños.

Vi kunde höra varandras andning. Framåt kvällen kändes det i huset som om vattenståndet i en osynlig flod var så högt att det nått gränsen till översvämning.