“A Non-regular, Low-income Worker Fighting to Protect Japan’s Rescue Cats”
I make $24k with a mortgage and a newborn. This is why I, the Capybara Samurai, am chasing FIRE to save every cat in Japan.
Before anything else, look at the image above.
A capybara. Full samurai armor. The ancient streets of Kyoto at dusk.
That’s me. Or at least, that’s how I survive.
My name doesn’t matter. You can call me the Capybara Samurai. I am a non-regular contract
worker in my late 30s, living near Kyoto, Japan. I earn approximately $24,000 a year. I carry a
$260,000 mortgage. My daughter was born recently. Two rescue cats sleep on my feet while I
do math I don’t want to do.
Their names are Fumi and Koyomi.
Fumi is black — the kind of black that disappears into shadows and reappears on your chest at
2am. Koyomi is a tuxedo cat, white and black, with a face that looks permanently unimpressed
by my financial decisions.
I started writing on Medium for one reason: I want the world to know what is really
happening to cats in Japan.
The number nobody talks about
Every year in Japan, tens of thousands of cats are killed in municipal shelters. Not because they
are sick. Not because they are dangerous. Because there is no room.
Japan’s animal welfare system works differently from what many Western readers are used to.
In countries like the UK, the US, Germany, or Australia, the concept of a “no-kill shelter” has
become a widespread standard. Rescue organizations are well-funded, publicly supported, and
deeply embedded in culture. Adoption is normalized. Foster networks are massive.
In Japan, the system has historically operated differently. Municipal animal control centers —
called hokenjo — were originally designed not for rescue, but for capture and disposal. For
decades, the default outcome for an unclaimed cat was euthanasia, often within days of arrival.
This is changing. Slowly. Painfully slowly.
Volunteer rescue groups operate across Japan, running entirely on donations and exhaustion.
Foster families take in kittens at 3am. Private shelters survive month to month. Individual
volunteers trap, neuter, and return feral cats on their days off, paying for everything themselves.
These people are samurai too. They just don’t get armor.
The other side of Japan that tourists never see
While this quiet battle is being fought in shelters and back alleys, a very different scene plays
out in shopping malls across Japan.
Walk into almost any large mall, and you may find a pet shop with kittens displayed in glass
cases — small, bright-lit enclosures where purebred cats are sold like merchandise. The price
tags are not small. A single kitten can cost the equivalent of my entire monthly salary,
sometimes more.
I am not here to judge anyone’s choices. But the contrast is something I cannot unsee. On one
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side: a kitten in a glass case, with a price tag. On the other side: Fumi and Koyomi, who were
days away from a very different ending. Both are lives. Only one comes with a receipt.
Why I care: The Twin Sisters
I didn’t grow up as an “animal person.” I became one the day we visited an adoption event and
brought home Fumi and Koyomi — twin sisters who had been rescued together.
I saw the paperwork. I understood what the alternative had been for these two if they hadn’t
been saved. Something shifted in me that I still can’t fully describe. They weren’t just “pets”; they
were two lives, the same story, two shadows that were nearly erased from the world.
My daughter is growing up with both of them. She will learn their names before she learns mine,
probably. She will learn that animals feel fear and comfort and love. She will learn that choosing
to protect a life that cannot protect itself is not a burden — it is a privilege.
If she grows up and decides to dedicate her life to animal welfare — to rescue, to advocacy,
to changing the system from the inside — I want that choice to be financially possible for
her.
By the time my daughter no longer needs me by her side every day, I want to have reached
FIRE — Financial Independence. Not to retire and do nothing. To finally have the freedom to
stand beside her, and beside every animal that has no voice, without worrying about a
paycheck. This is the main story of my life.
That is why I save every yen I can. That is why I invest in index funds at midnight while Fumi
walks across my keyboard. That is why the Kakeibo is not a budget. It is a promise. Every
single yen counts. Every one.
What this page will be
● I will write about rescue cats — Japan’s system, the volunteers who hold it together,
and my mission to use my financial freedom to support their battle.
● I will write about money — real numbers, real sacrifices, real failures, and how investing
can lead to a more meaningful life.
● I will write about paternity leave in Japan, which I am currently taking, and what it
actually looks like from the inside.
● I will write about Kakeibo, minimalism, and the strange peace that comes from owning
almost nothing.
I am not an expert. I am not wealthy. I am not particularly wise. I am a capybara in samurai
armor, standing in the street, slightly confused, completely committed. The battle has just
begun.
A question for you
In your country — what does the animal shelter system look like? Are rescue cats celebrated, or
overlooked? Do people adopt, or do they buy? Is there a “no-kill” movement where you live? I
genuinely want to know. This is not a Japanese problem. It is a human one. Leave a comment.
Tell me about the cats where you are.
Support My Rescue Cats Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this post, please consider supporting my rescue cats. Your help goes directly toward their medication and care.→https://ko-fi.com/fumikoyo
