The temple bell rang long and loud that night.

Dogs howled.

Cats like Meander played.

At Shinto Shrines across Japan worshippers pitched cash into slotted boxes, praying for prosperity, health, and success.

When Meander got home he found an empty house. When Helene got home she found a peeved Meander waiting to be fed. “Mein Stubentiger,” she said. My living room tiger.

The next morning Helene sat reading her nenga new year’s cards, warming her legs in the kotatsu.

Meander resented being ignored when his human was enjoying something else.

Male callers soon learned that the bond between a shoe and the aroma of cat poo was forever.

The nerve! Meander thought, especially after last night!

Without warning, Meander leapt, a flying ball of tabby fur. He crash-landed in Helene’s lap, strewing nenga across the tatami.

Helene screeched.

Meander arched his back, bared his teeth and hissed, not at Helene, but at the striped cats surrounding him.

It was no contest. Meander stared down the invaders, freezing them with dread.

Helene knew better than to get involved when a cat’s claws were out.

Meander, triumphant, lifted his tail high and meowed to be let outdoors.

“Ich habe einen Kater!” she said. Kater, a tomcat, was a word Meander understood. It made him feel macho. But why did she say it only when she had a hangover?

Meander imagined what else he could paralyze with his flinty gaze. Maybe the orange carp—forever just beyond reach—in the canal that carried water from Lake Biwa to Nanzenji and then up to Ginkakuji. He headed for the Philosophers Walk,

A few tourists were already strolling in the morning chill.

The Philosophers Walk was known for its cats and Meander didn’t mind having his photo taken. But today was different. The humans wanted to take selfies with him.

Crazy humans!

Meander left the tourists behind. Soon the shops would open and other cats would show up to take the pressure off.

Meander sat near the fishmonger’s, pouncing on windblown leaves, looking forward to fish heads or tails.

The shop’s shutter rolled up and Meander’s hair stood on end! A striped cat, again! Hadn’t he just vanquished them?

Meander was about to give it the gaze when he realized it wasn’t a cat but a fish with the same stripes!

The fishmonger looked at Meander. “Engi no ii koto ya nen!” the woman said. What a lucky omen!

She laid out a feast of fish parts for the saba’tora’neko—mackerel tiger cat. Meander would attract customers like a maneki neko.

This was, after all, the Year of the Tiger.

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