Last winter, I had hit rock bottom. I lost my job and my fiancé over the course of a month, and the only thing getting me out of bed in the morning was the popular game, Neko Atsume: Cat Collector. Neko Atsume reminded me that I still had a sense of purpose in life; someone who needs me to feed and nurture them.
What I didn’t realize is that my actual cats in real life need to be fed as well because they are indoor cats and don’t really have any other options.
In Neko Atsume, the cats I collected didn’t mind that I was drinking wine straight from the box. They showed me an unconditional love that, deep down, I didn’t think I deserved. “I love you too,” I often whispered to Pumpkin’s criss-cross asshole jutting out of the Burger Cushion. Little did I know that the meowing I heard in response was from my actual cats, who hadn’t eaten for two days.
How could I have been so blind?
Several weeks passed. One night, I opened Neko Atsume and splurged on Ritzy Bitz instead of the generic, probably tasteless Thrifty Bitz. “We all deserve nice things,” I said. And, to my own surprise, I actually meant it. My voice had sounded… happy. Right then, I knew everything was going to be okay. But when I put my phone back under my pillow before drifting off to sleep, I felt something different.
Suddenly, my pillow began to stir. “Cat!” I exclaimed. My real-life tortoise shell cat meowed back feebly. Then it dawned on me: I hadn’t fed her—or my other two actual cats—since I’d downloaded Neko Atsume over a month ago. I had expanded my yard, purchased the Modern remodel and even seen my first snow come and go—but completely forgotten about my living, breathing pets.
For the first time since my horrific wisdom teeth extraction, I left my apartment. I sprinted toward the 24-hour Target screaming, “I GOTTA FEED MY CATS!” the whole way.
After gobbling it up at a rate that would put Tubbs to shame, my real cats laid down next to me, purring gently into the night. They acted like nothing bad had happened between us at all. They loved me unconditionally, despite all my flaws—just like my Neko Atsume cats, except skinnier. I vowed in that moment to never neglect my real cats for ones in my phone ever again.
Except, you know, when the real ones are being boring.
