about Japan

Cats and shit

Cats and shit

on a walk.

I see various exotic creatures on a leash in Tokyo.  Especially in Shibuya, aka loud and crowded young kids shopping paradise.  Ferrets, bunnies, monkeys on leashes.  Or a random pet squirrel, perched on its owner’s shoulder.

The other day I’m walking, eyes glued to my phone screen when my peripheral vision spies a puff-ball on the ground.  Really?  My eyeballs scan and the puffs increase— there are five.  I focus my gaze and see three more in a stroller.  Fat, delicious Persians on shoestring (but probably more like crazy-luxe designer) leashes.  They’re all smoke-tipped cream puffs.  Scrumptious.  I peer closer to check out why the man leading this fuzz brigade is stopped in the middle of a fucking busy sidewalk.  I’m also about to take a shot of this curious and happy sight.

Until I see Cat-Nanny-Daddy wiping an— whoa, the smell hits at the exact moment I see the uncontrollable mess.  I hope he’s got so many more tissues than what I see in his hand.  Oh god.  The poor others in the stroller, trying to shy away from the unfortunate one and their wispy-long coats are brushing against the mess.  This is hilarious in its absolute hideousness.  I could take a picture but I can’t.  All I can think of is the poor undignified quadruped having lost its shit and getting cleaned up in such plain view, garnering some sympathy from passersby but mostly indignation.

Poor kitty.
Poor human.

Um also, the tissues— where’s he going to put that biohazardous crap?

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