Children’s Day was coming up, and before the holiday crowds arrived, we took my wife’s younger cousin out for an early celebration and ended up at a cat café.
I did briefly get sidetracked by what exactly I was supposed to call her. In everyday speech, I’d just call her my little sister-in-law, but after checking one of those kinship calculators, I got a couple of much more complicated terms back. None of them sounded natural to me, and I’ve never really heard people use them in Shanghai dialect either, so in the end I decided not to overthink it. Calling her by name would probably have been easiest anyway.
What the cat café was like
She’s usually been very carefully looked after at home. Snacks are tightly controlled, random treats are off-limits, and she doesn’t get to try many entertainment activities either. So taking her out felt a bit like bringing a kid straight out of the wilderness into the city—everything looked fun, and everything looked delicious.
At first, she had a very ideal plan: she wanted both rabbits and cats, a little happiness from each side. Of course, we weren’t her parents, but restraint is its own kind of affection. We kept saying the choice was hers while very gently guiding her until she was already standing outside the cat café. Then we asked her to decide for herself. You could practically see the little angel and devil in her head arguing it out.
In the end, after a serious internal struggle, she chose the immediate happiness right in front of her and quietly followed us into the cat café. Kids really are innocent. Looking back, we may have been just a tiny bit devious about it.
There were a little over ten cats in total, all different sizes and all with very different personalities. Some were food-obsessed, some were energetic, some were lazy, some were gentle, and some acted cool and aloof. After spending time there, my overall feeling was that it’s a fun place to try once. There was no time limit, which was nice, but the moment the cats saw canned food or cat kibble, they became intensely excited. Even so, they were surprisingly well-behaved while being fed. They would compete for food, but none of them scratched people.
The whole visit turned into a constant rotation from one cat to another. One moment we were petting this one, the next moment we were trying to get close to another. It was hard to stop.
That said, the less charming side of the experience was impossible to ignore. We found cat food tucked into the gaps of the sofa, and there was even a tuft of cat fur drifting through the air. I like animals, but seeing that still triggered my neat-freak tendencies. Suddenly it felt as if every sofa had been coated in food, and the whole room was filled with a blend of cat fur, food, and saliva. That instant discomfort hit me all at once.
I used to think about getting a cat myself, and for a long time it sounded like a wonderful idea. I even used to ask my mom about it, but she always refused. Her reasons were simple: pets smell, they shed, and they turn the house upside down. Back then it just sounded like parental resistance. Now that I’m old enough to actually afford a pet, I understand her much better. Work is tiring enough already, and sometimes just keeping a home in order takes effort. Liking animals and being able to care for them properly are not the same thing. Having a pet is something that really deserves serious thought, not just a burst of enthusiasm.