Last month, I chose a book that I hoped would help me find joy. This month, I went to the stack of books given to me at Christmas and randomly selected We’ll Prescribe You a Cat. When I read it, joy found me.
This short novel is about the happiness and healing found by a series of characters after being prescribed a cat. It is sweet and soft and everything I needed this month. The only question I have after reading it is: Where else might joy be waiting that I haven’t thought to look?
We’ll Prescribe You a Cat by Syou Ishida, Translated by E. Madison Shimoda
Tucked away in an old building at the end of a narrow alley in Kyoto, the Kokoro Clinic for the Soul can only be found by people who are struggling in their lives and genuinely need help. The mysterious clinic offers a unique treatment to those who find their way there: it prescribes cats as medication. Patients are often puzzled by this unconventional prescription, but when they “take” their cat for the recommended duration, they witness profound transformations in their lives, guided by the playful, empathetic, occasionally challenging yet endearing cats.
Before I adopted my cats Fern and Bobby, I’d been thinking about getting a cat for a while. My thirteen-year-old dog Chewie had a set of health issues at the beginning of 2025 and it was immensely difficult to watch him age. I felt terrible leaving him in the apartment alone while I went to my day job at Costco. Our relationship together felt mutually depressed.
Everyone told me not to get a cat. The list against it grew: think of the added work, expenses, and logistics, not to mention cat hair. But when my friend went on vacation, I jumped at the chance to watch her foster kittens for a few days. And that was that. I somehow ended up adopting not one, but two cats: a bonded brother-sister pair.
Both Chewie and I fell in love with Fern and Bobby. They have brought so much happiness into our family and not nearly as much cat hair as I anticipated. I feel joy when I see Bobby sleeping stretched out on his back, legs in the air, belly exposed, in a state of pure relaxation and openness. I feel joy when Fern starts purring loudly upon seeing me, before I’ve even begun to pet her. I feel joy watching old-man Chewie attempting to chase them and play with their toys.
As I read We’ll Prescribe You a Cat, I kept thinking about if I were a chapter in the book. It would begin with a character who was working hard, but losing hope in the search for meaningful success and loving partnership. This character would be prescribed two kittens and their youth would teach her the importance of play and silliness as part of a meaningful life. Their attachment to each other would convince her that loneliness was not a permanent state, but rather, love and connection was hard-wired into us all. She would watch the kittens reach out to each other and comfort each other and would be reminded that it is possible for humans to reach out and comfort each other as well.
If your start to 2026 has been as difficult as mine, might I prescribe a cat? Or, at the very least, I would recommend picking up your own copy of We’ll Prescribe You a Cat. Or maybe, go to your local bookstore or your to-be-read pile and pick something at random. I give you permission to pick something easy and I hope joy finds you.
(Obligatory self-promotional note because I’m so tired of folding clothes at Costco: if you enjoyed this post, please feel free to share! Thank you!)
Amy C. Lutz 