Haruki Murakami - Kafka on the Shore

At the end of each day Nakata stopped by the home of the people who'd hired him and gave an update on his search-where he'd gone, what sort of information he'd managed to pick up. The cat's owner would pay him twenty dollars, his going rate. Nobody had ever officially set that fee, word just got around that there was a master cat-finder in the neighborhood and somehow he settled on that daily rate. People would always give him something extra besides the money, too-food, occasionally clothes. And a bonus of eighty dollars once he actually tracked down the missing cat.

Nakata wasn't constantly being asked to search for missing cats, so the fees he accumulated each month didn't add up to much. The older of his younger brothers paid his utilities out of the inheritance Nakata's parents had left him-which wasn't very much to begin with-and he lived on his meager savings and a municipal monthly subsidy for the elderly handicapped. He managed to get by on the subsidy alone, so he could spend his cat-finding fees as he wished, and for him it seemed like a substantial amount. Sometimes, though, he couldn't come up with any idea of how to spend it, other than enjoying his favorite grilled eel. Going to the bank or having a savings account at the post office involved filling out forms, so any leftover money he hid beneath the tatami in his room.

Being able to converse with cats was Nakata's little secret. Only he and the cats knew about it. People would think he was crazy if he mentioned it, so he never did. Everybody knew he wasn't very bright, but being dumb and being crazy were different matters altogether.

Sometimes people would walk by when he was deep in conversation with a cat, but they never seemed to care. It wasn't so unusual, after all, to see old folks talking to animals as if they were people. But if anyone did happen to comment on his abilities with cats and say something like, "Mr. Nakata, how are you able to know cats' habits so well? It's almost like you can talk with them," he'd just smile and let it pass. Nakata was always serious and well mannered, with a pleasant smile, and was a favorite among the housewives in the neighborhood. His neat appearance also helped. Poor though he was, Nakata enjoyed bathing and doing laundry, and the nearly brand-new clothes his clients often gave him only added to his clean-cut look. Some of the clothes-a salmon pink Jack Nicklaus golf shirt, for instance-didn't exactly suit him, but Nakata didn't mind as long as they were neat and clean.

Nakata was standing at the front door, giving a halting report to his present client, Mrs. Koizumi, on the search for her cat, Goma.

"Nakata finally got some information about little Goma," he began. "A person named Kawamura said that a few days ago he saw a cat resembling Goma over in the empty lot, the one with the wall around it, over in the 2-chome District. It's two big roads away from here, and he said the age, coat, and collar are all the same as Goma's. Nakata decided to keep a lookout at the empty lot, so I take a lunch and sit there every day, morning till sunset. No, don't worry about that-I have plenty of free time, so unless it's raining hard I don't mind at all. But if you think it's no longer necessary, ma'am, for me to be on the lookout, then please tell me. I will stop right away."

He didn't tell her that this Mr. Kawamura wasn't a person but a striped brown cat. That, he figured, would only complicate matters.

Mrs. Koizumi thanked him. Her two little daughters were in a gloomy mood after their beloved pet suddenly vanished, and had lost their appetite. Their mother couldn't just explain it away by telling them that cats tended to disappear every once in a while. But despite the shock to the girls, she didn't have the time to go around town looking for their cat. That made her all the more glad to find a person like Nakata who, for a mere twenty dollars per diem, would do his best to search for Goma. Nakata was a strange old man, and had a weird way of speaking, but people claimed he was an absolute genius when it came to locating cats. She knew she shouldn't think about it like this, but the old man didn't seem bright enough to deceive anyone. She handed him his fee in an envelope, as well as a Tupperware container with some vegetable rice and taro potatoes she'd just cooked.

Nakata bowed as he took the Tupperware, sniffed the food, and thanked her. "Thank you kindly. Taro is one of Nakata's favorites."

"I hope you enjoy it," Mrs. Koizumi replied.

A week had passed since he first staked out the empty lot, during which time Nakata had seen a lot of different cats come in and out. Kawamura, the striped brown cat, stopped by a couple of times each day to say hello. Nakata greeted him, and chatted about the weather and his sub city. He still couldn't follow a word the cat said.

"Crouch on pavement, Kawara's in trouble," Kawamura said. He seemed to want to convey something to Nakata, but the old man didn't have a clue and he said so.

The cat seemed perplexed by this, and repeated the same-possibly the same-thought in different words. "Kawara's shouting tied." Nakata was even more lost.

Too bad Mimi's not here to help out, he thought. Mimi'd give the cat a good slap on the cheek and get him to make some sense. A smart cat, that Mimi. But Mimi never showed up in a field like this, since she hated getting fleas from other cats.

Once he'd spilled out all these ideas Nakata couldn't follow, Kawamura left beaming.

Other cats filtered in and out. At first they were on their guard when they spotted Nakata, gazing at him from a distance in annoyance, but after they saw that he was simply sitting there, doing nothing, they forgot all about him. In his typical friendly way, Nakata tried to strike up conversations. He'd say hello and introduce himself, but most of the cats turned a deaf ear, pretending they couldn't hear him, or stare right through him. The cats here were particularly adept at giving someone the cold shoulder. They must have had some pretty awful experiences with humans, Nakata decided. He was in no position to demand anything of them, and didn't blame them for their coldness. He knew very well that in the world of cats he would always be an outsider.

"So you can talk, huh?" the cat, a black-and-white tabby with torn ears, said a bit hesitantly as it glanced around. The cat spoke gruffly but seemed nice enough.

"Yes, a little," Nakata replied.

"Impressive all the same," the tabby commented.

"My name's Nakata," Nakata said, introducing himself. "And your name would be?"

"Ain't got one," the tabby said brusquely.

"How about Okawa? Do you mind if I call you that?"

"Whatever."

"Well, then, Mr. Okawa," Nakata said, "as a token of our meeting each other, would you care for some dried sardines?"

"Sounds good. One of my favorites, sardines."

Nakata took a saran-wrapped sardine from his bag and opened it up for Okawa. He always had a few sardines with him, just in case. Okawa gobbled down the sardine, stripping it from head to tail, then cleaned his face.

"That hit the spot. Much obliged. I'd be happy to lick you somewhere, if you'd like."

"No, there's no need to. Nakata's grateful for the offer, but right now I don't need to be licked anywhere, thanks all the same. Actually, I've been asked by its owner to locate a missing cat. A female tortoiseshell by the name of Goma." Nakata took the color snapshot of Goma out of his bag and showed it to Okawa. "Someone told me this cat has been spotted in this vacant lot. So Nakata's been sitting here for several days waiting for Goma to show up. I was wondering if, by chance, you may have run across her."

Okawa glanced at the photo and made a gloomy face. Frown lines appeared between his eyebrows and he blinked in consternation several times. "I'm grateful for the sardine, don't get me wrong. But I can't talk about that. I'll be in hot water if I do."