Feline Rulers

For over a thousand years, cats have been inseparably linked to Japanese culture—they strolled through the homes of aristocrats during the Heian period, guarded Buddhist manuscripts from ravenous mice, and during samurai wars, the enigmatic features of these creatures were used as makeshift clocks by warriors (seriously, it’s mentioned in Myōkeihyō, which we will discuss later in the article). By the time of the Edo period, they were so numerous that they practically ruled the streets like feudal gangs of purring bosses. At some point, they became such an integral part of the urban landscape that nearly every household had its own feline companion, freely prowling between market stalls and teahouses, most likely illegally acquiring yet another portion of dried tuna. And if that wasn’t enough, one could always turn to ukiyo-e—the art form that would have made cats immortal, if they weren’t already.

Don’t think that in Edo-period woodblock prints, cats were limited to peacefully dozing on tatami mats. Artists took it a step further—transforming them into samurai, kabuki actors, and even entire cities (yes, I am referring to Kuniyoshi’s brilliant parody of the Tōkaidō route, where the travel stations were turned into feline escapades). Ukiyo-e proved that cats were far more than just soft fur and a talent for ignoring human commands. They were symbols of freedom, mischief, and sometimes—even against their own reluctant nature—tools of political satire.

But if cats were the undisputed masters of carefree life in Edo, they could just as well have been awarded the honorary title of imperial schemers in literature. Just look at The Tale of Genji, where a cunning feline named Kara Neko, with a single flick of its paw, set off an avalanche of scandals. Or consider the legends of bakeneko and nekomata—cats that, upon reaching a certain age, began walking on two legs, speaking in human tongues, and hatching suspicious plots against their owners. And here arises the question: is this folklore, or simply a live report from an average cat-inhabited household? Ukiyo-e, which captured both the dark and comedic aspects of feline nature, became a testament to Japan’s fascination with these creatures. So, let’s embark on a journey through a world where cats were not just adorable furballs but also masters of chaos, political satire, and eerie magic.

Cats in Japan – A Bit of Feline History

Where Did Cats Come From and When Did They Arrive in Japan?

Before we dive into the evolution of cats in ukiyo-e art, let’s first examine their grand entrance onto the Japanese stage. Because while it’s hard to imagine Japan without cats today—from the maneki-neko waving their paws in shop entrances (see more here: Japanese Lucky Cats, Maneki-Neko: How a Cat Lost Its Head, Then Bit a Snake, and Still Brings Prosperity Today), to islands ruled by furry residents (more on cat islands here: The Meowing Kingdom of Tashirojima - An Island Ruled by Cats), and cafés where one can sip tea in the company of purring companions—the truth is, cats are not native to the Land of the Rising Sun. Their story in Japan began a little over a thousand years ago, and their first “sponsors” were Chinese monks and merchants.

The first cats likely arrived in Japan during the 6th century. Not in luxurious carriers or as eccentric souvenirs from a journey, but as highly skilled professionals in the field of rodent population control. Buddhist monks, transporting sacred manuscripts from China, quickly realized that rats and mice had an alarmingly refined literary taste—particularly for carefully calligraphed scrolls. To counter this, they brought aboard furry guardians with a single mission: to ensure no rodent turned Buddhist texts into a midnight snack.

And so, in addition to their independent and often aristocratic nature, cats in Japan gained a reputation as protectors of wisdom and religion. Initially, they were rare and valuable—so much so that some were worth several horses or even a small village. During the Heian period (794–1185), cats were such exclusive companions of the aristocracy that they appeared in literature as nearly equal protagonists. Emperors and high-ranking courtiers kept them in their palaces, allowed them to roam freely through the courtyards, and even gave them names worthy of noble lineage.

Beyond their practical function, cats also took on a symbolic role in Japanese Buddhism. Their calm, almost meditative demeanor, mysterious gaze, and ability to “read minds” (a.k.a. the classic feline stare that makes humans feel like idiots) made them creatures of profound spiritual significance. Over time, cats became not only guardians of sacred texts but also sentinels of the spiritual world, which translated into their presence in art, folklore, and daily life in Japan.

Cats Among the Samurai

After the golden age of palace life for cats during the Heian period, more turbulent times arrived. The Kamakura period (1185–1333) marked the rise of the shogunate, the dominance of the samurai, and, consequently, less room for courtly indulgences. Though still valued, cats had to settle for a more "battle-ready" role—guarding rice storages against rodents. No doubt, more than one samurai or ashigaru standing watch at night admired the agility of a cat chasing a mouse, recognizing in it the spirit of a true warrior. After all, agility, reflexes, and absolute self-assurance were highly regarded among the bushi as well.

The Sengoku period (1467–1603), an era of incessant civil wars, forced both humans and cats to adapt to an uncertain reality. Some legends claim that samurai kept cats in their castles as “living clocks”—supposedly observing feline pupils, which changed shape depending on the time of day. Wait, were cats really used as timepieces?

Yes, this is no joke. As bizarre as it sounds, historical accounts suggest that during the Sengoku period, samurai indeed observed cats' pupils as a way to determine the time. The idea was based on the fact that feline pupils change shape depending on the intensity of light—narrowed during the morning and midday, and dilated in the evening. In an age when clocks didn’t exist and the sun was often obscured by mist or stormy clouds, this natural “time indicator” might have been somewhat useful.

There’s even an old Japanese text from the Edo period titled Myōkeihyō (妙形表), which describes this method, attributing to cats the role of living biological clocks. Of course, in practice, it was hardly a precise system, but it highlights how carefully the Japanese observed animals and how deeply they believed in their extraordinary abilities—especially when it came to cats.

Cats in Edo and Beyond

With the dawn of the Edo period (1603–1868) and a newfound sense of stability, cats gained far greater freedom. The Tokugawa shogunate, eager to maintain order in the country, prohibited samurai from waging wars (this is somewhat of a simplification—more on this era here: What to Do with a Society of Samurai Who Only Know War and Death in Times of Peace? - The Clever Ideas of the Tokugawa Shoguns), and people began to have more time to cultivate the arts, literature, and, of course, their admiration for cats. In 1602, an official decree was even issued ordering the release of all cats into the wild to combat the rodent plague threatening the silk industry. Thus, cats became full-fledged citizens of Edo—wandering freely through the streets, lounging on market stalls, and appearing ever more frequently in paintings, theater, and stories.

And what about the Meiji period (1868–1912)? Japan’s modernization and opening to the West meant that cats began functioning more as household companions rather than just “heroic hunters of the community.” The first animal welfare organizations appeared, and maneki-neko—the famous “beckoning cat” figurine—became an almost national symbol of good fortune. But before we get to that, it’s worth diving deeper into Japanese folklore, because cats had long held a reputation for being creatures that were anything but... ordinary.

Cats in Japanese Literature and Folklore

The Oldest Japanese Mentions of Cats – Nihon Ryōiki

The first written references to cats in Japan come from Nihon Ryōiki, the oldest collection of Buddhist stories from the 9th century. Although we can't yet speak of cats as literary stars at this point, even then, these animals were described as mysterious, possessing extraordinary abilities, and—most importantly—being linked to the spirit world.

Kara Neko – The Cat That Changed the Course of The Tale of Genji

If we are looking for the first cat to truly stir things up in literature, we’ll find it in The Tale of Genji (11th century), the classic novel by Murasaki Shikibu (more about her here: The Author of the World's First Novel: Meet the Strong and Stubborn Murasaki Shikibu (Heian, 973) And about The Tale of Genji here: Genji and Yugao – The Secrets of the Moonflower in a Millennium-Old Tale of Desire and Loss). Kara Neko, or the “Chinese Cat,” in one dramatic scene, tears down a curtain, revealing a hidden princess to the protagonist. Sounds innocent? Well, as a result of this “feline intervention,” a romance blossoms, leading to an illegitimate child and a series of events that alter the entire course of the story. This might just be the first proof that cats are not only adorable but also incredibly influential.

Cats as Supernatural Beings

For centuries, the Japanese have had an ambivalent attitude toward cats—on the one hand, they were seen as bringers of good fortune and prosperity, while on the other, they were feared for their supernatural abilities. Thus, in Japanese folklore, we find both beloved and revered cats, as well as terrifying, ominous creatures:

▫ Bakeneko (化け猫) – "The Shape-Shifting Cat"

A cat that, after reaching a certain age, could walk on two legs, speak in a human voice, and... plot revenge against its owners. Some bakeneko had the ability to control fire, while others could take on human form to manipulate their surroundings (more about bakeneko here: Vengeful Cat Demons in Japanese Legends: The Sinister Bakeneko).

▫Nekomata (猫又) – An Even More Fearsome Version of Bakeneko

A cat whose tail split into two, granting it even greater powers. It was believed that nekomata could resurrect the dead, making them the central figures in many horror stories from the Edo period.

But lest we get too caught up in the horror—cats also had a positive reputation. It was believed that they could ward off evil spirits, and their presence in a household ensured peace and prosperity.

Cat Motifs in Ukiyo-e

Cats in ukiyo-e art were much more than just adorable furballs curled up on cushions or basking in the sunlight. Edo-period artists captured a full spectrum of feline emotions and behaviors, making them perfect subjects for both realistic depictions of everyday life and more symbolic or satirical representations. From peacefully sleeping pets to cats embodying samurai and kabuki actors, ukiyo-e is filled with fascinating feline imagery that shows just how deeply these animals permeated Japanese culture.

One of the reasons for their immense popularity was the sheer number of cats in Edo—nearly every household had a four-legged companion, and the animals roamed the streets and countryside freely. Naturally, this led artists to not only incorporate them into their works but to make them central figures. From simple domestic scenes to parodies of famous artworks, and even surreal and grotesque depictions—Japanese woodblock prints are filled with cat motifs that continue to captivate art lovers to this day.

Cats in Their Natural Environment

One of the most classic ways cats were depicted in ukiyo-e was in their natural state—just as they behave in everyday life. Cats are creatures that can switch from complete stillness to an explosion of energy in a fraction of a second, and ukiyo-e artists masterfully captured these contrasts.

Edo-period woodblock prints showcase entire galleries of cats curled up in sleep, lazily stretching after a nap, playfully pawing at strings (because, in the 19th century, no one had yet invented laser pointers), or meticulously grooming themselves with a seriousness and precision worthy of a samurai’s blade. Many of these depictions are so lifelike that one might imagine the artists spent hours closely observing cats before committing their movements to print.

One of the masters of portraying feline life was Utagawa Kuniyoshi (more about the Utagawa school here: Utagawa – A School of Japanese Ukiyo-e Woodblock Prints Whose Masters Are Still Admired Today), whose studio, according to his students, was full of cats freely wandering around his workshop. No wonder his works capture feline behavior with such precision. His woodblock series feature cats sleeping on warm tatami mats, hunting insects, staring intently at fish in a bowl, or simply lounging in the most peculiar positions—as cats tend to do.

Many ukiyo-e featuring cats are not just cute images but also compositions rich in symbolism. Cats depicted in deep sleep could symbolize domestic peace, while those hunting mice represented vigilance and protection against misfortune. In Japan, it was believed that a home with a cat was a home free of evil spirits, and ukiyo-e reflected this belief, portraying cats not only as household companions but as guardians of human happiness.

It was in this naturalistic form that cats first gained popularity in art, but over time… they began taking on increasingly unusual roles. Because surely no one thought that ukiyo-e artists would stop at mere realistic cat portraits.

Cats and People

While cats often appeared alone in ukiyo-e, artists just as eagerly depicted them interacting with people. Cats as domestic companions—lazily sprawled out on tatami mats, leaping into their owners' laps, or playfully pawing at their human caretakers—these scenes illustrate the close and natural bond between cats and the people of Edo. They were not just seen as useful mouse hunters but as full-fledged members of domestic life, and ukiyo-e perfectly captured this dynamic.

One of the best examples of this relationship is Utagawa Kuniyoshi’s woodblock print titled “Ouch! That Hurts!” (痛い、痛い!), part of the Auspicious Pictures of Land and Sea series (circa 1847–1852). It depicts a woman in an elegant kimono smiling amusedly as her cat energetically digs its claws into her arm. This is a scene any cat owner can relate to—Japanese felines had already mastered the art of asserting dominance in the household.

Another fascinating example is “The Joy of First Snow” (初雪の戯れ) by Kuniyoshi, where a cat perches on a woman’s lap as she gently cradles it. The scene radiates warmth and tranquility, emphasizing the bond between humans and animals. In Japanese culture, cats often symbolized domestic happiness and harmony—their presence in such intimate moments underscored familial comfort and stability.

A different atmosphere is captured in “A House Cat Sleeping on a Woman’s Kimono” (愛猫と美女) by Utagawa Toyokuni I (circa 1810). Here, a cat peacefully sleeps on a woman's kimono as she rests beside it. During the Edo period, it was commonly believed that a cat sleeping near its owner brought them good fortune and warded off evil spirits—making this scene not only an everyday image but also one with deeper symbolic meaning.

But ukiyo-e cats weren’t just sweet, sleepy creatures—they could also be mischievous troublemakers. “Courtesan with a Cat” (遊女と猫) by Utagawa Kunisada (1857) shows a cat gleefully shredding the luxurious kimono of its owner. The woman looks at it with a mixture of exasperation and indulgence—perhaps already resigned to her fate, or perhaps simply aware that trying to stop the cat would only make things worse. Any cat lover knows that when a feline decides to destroy something, it’s never the cat’s fault. It’s always the kimono’s.

The Symbolism of Domestic Cat Scenes in Ukiyo-e

The symbolism of domestic cat scenes in ukiyo-e is incredibly rich. Cats were often depicted as metaphors for human traits—both positive and negative. In Japanese culture, they were associated not only with loyalty and independence but also with cunning and mystery. In some cases, cats served as allegories for seductive women or hidden deception, a theme frequently appearing in scenes depicting courtesans from Yoshiwara.

One of the most interesting examples of this symbolism is the woodblock print "Courtesan Sleeping with a Cat" (猫と遊女), where a cat sleeps beside a luxuriously dressed oiran. In Edo art, cats often accompanied figures with a dual nature—much like geisha or courtesans, who blended charm with an air of mystery in their profession.

Cats as Humans – Anthropomorphism in Ukiyo-e

In ukiyo-e, cats were not limited to sleeping, hunting, and playing—over time, they also began... walking on two legs, wearing kimonos, and taking on human roles. Edo-period artists, led by Utagawa Kuniyoshi, delighted in the motif of feline anthropomorphism, using their natural expressions and behaviors to create humorous and sometimes satirical images. Cats became symbols of social archetypes, kabuki stars, and even tools of subtle political critique that cleverly circumvented shogunate censorship.

Cats as Humans – Satire on Edo Society

In ukiyo-e, cats often served as a mirror of human behavior—adopting postures, gestures, and clothing styles that humorously reflected Edo-period social life. One of the best examples is the woodblock print "Fashionable Cats Juggling Balls" (流行猫曲芸) by Utagawa Kuniyoshi (circa 1842), in which cats appear as circus acrobats, juggling balls while dressed in Edo-era attire.

An even more amusing and detailed vision of the "cat-human" world was presented by Utagawa Yoshifuji in the extraordinary print "Tiny Kittens Combine to Form a Giant Cat" (小猫組み合わせ大猫). Here, individual cats come together to create the image of one enormous feline—a clever metaphor for Edo's social structure, where individuals formed a greater whole.

These prints had a dual function—they entertained Edo’s citizens while also carrying hidden messages. Cats symbolized not only the playful side of human nature but also hypocrisy, vanity, and social intrigues.

Cats as Kabuki Actors – Censorship-Proof Critique of the Shogunate

One of the boldest artistic concepts was portraying cats as kabuki actors. In the 1840s, the Tokugawa government tightened censorship laws, banning the publication of woodblock prints depicting kabuki actors and courtesans, as these were seen as promoting "immoral" behavior (more about how Tokugawa-era censorship was circumvented here: Japanese Artists vs. Edo Shogunate Censorship: How Kuniyoshi Criticized Power in the Painting “Takiyasha the Witch”).

But ukiyo-e artists were not about to give up so easily. Kuniyoshi, known for his wit and ingenuity, found a way to outmaneuver censorship—rather than depicting people, he replaced them with cats dressed as kabuki actors. This led to series like "Cats Performing in Kabuki Plays", where feline characters clearly resembled famous actors and theatrical roles.

A particularly intriguing example is "Kabuki Actor Onoe Kikugorō III as the Spirit of the Cat Stone" (歌舞伎役者猫石霊) by Utagawa Kunisada (1852). It depicts the renowned actor Onoe Kikugorō III in the role of a spectral cat from a popular kabuki play. The image of a massive feline looming from a lantern references a famous horror scene that captivated Edo-period audiences.

"Neko no Ateji" – Cats as Written Characters and a Play on Words

Kuniyoshi didn’t just transform cats into people—he also turned them into... Japanese characters! In his series "Neko no Ateji" (猫の当字), or "Cat Homophones", he illustrated cats forming the shapes of written kanji characters. Each image played on words related to fish names—an ingenious marketing trick for Edo’s cat lovers and food enthusiasts alike.

One of the most famous prints in this series depicts cats forming the characters for katsuobushi (dried bonito), a beloved delicacy among Japanese cats. This highly creative series highlights not only Kuniyoshi’s artistic ingenuity but also his deep understanding of feline behavior—his cats act completely naturally, even when arranging themselves into the shapes of kanji.

"Cats Suggested as the Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō" – Kuniyoshi’s Brilliant Parody of Hiroshige

At the pinnacle of the most inventive ukiyo-e cat depictions stands one of Kuniyoshi’s greatest masterpieces—"Cats Suggested as the Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō" (猫の東海道五十三次), published in 1852. This series parodies the famous "Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō" by Utagawa Hiroshige, which depicted scenic landscapes and travelers along the road from Edo to Kyoto (analysis of that series here: "The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tōkaidō" by Hiroshige – The Journey Is Not the Destination, but What We Pass Along the Way).

In Kuniyoshi’s version, instead of landscapes and journeying figures, we see… 55 cats, each representing a station on the Tōkaidō route. Some amusing examples:

• Miya (41st station) sounds similar to oya (親), meaning "parent," so Kuniyoshi depicted a cat family: two kittens snuggling close to their mother.

• Ishibe (55th station) resembles the word mijime (惨め), meaning "miserable," so this illustration features a sad, exhausted-looking cat.

• Shirasuka (33rd station) sounds like shirasu (白須), referring to tiny white fish commonly used in Japanese cuisine. In the image, a cat is reaching out its paw toward a bowl of fish—a classic feline instinct!

• Fujisawa (6th station) resembles the word fuji (藤), meaning wisteria. Kuniyoshi depicted a cat curled up beneath cascading wisteria branches, creating a serene, almost poetic scene.

• Yui (17th station) sounds like yui (結い), meaning "to bind" or "to weave." The illustration shows a cat playing with a string or tangled in fabric, reflecting both the word’s meaning and a typical feline behavior.

This series is a true ukiyo-e gem—combining visual humor with linguistic playfulness. Once again, Kuniyoshi demonstrated that cats are not just perfect subjects for realistic portraits but also excel in satirical and parodic compositions.

Beyond Edo – Cats Still Rule Japanese and Global Culture

Although the Edo period ended, and ukiyo-e faded into history, cats in Japan never lost their popularity. On the contrary—their presence in Japanese culture is now stronger than ever. Ukiyo-e may have transformed into viral cat videos on Niconico, TikTok, and other social media platforms (as the popular meme says: Instagram is just an online platform for looking at funny cat pictures). From contemporary art to talismans and temples, to pop culture and everyday life—cats continue to fascinate the Japanese, and their images can be found almost everywhere.

One of the most influential 20th-century artists to continue the tradition of depicting cats in art was Fumio Asakura (1883–1964), often called the father of modern Japanese sculpture. Asakura was a devoted cat lover—his home was filled with them, and his sculptures captured their forms in astonishing realism. His famous series of feline sculptures showcases both peacefully sleeping cats and ones caught in dynamic movement, each radiating natural grace and precise observation. His works can be admired at the Asakura Sculpture Museum in Tokyo, which preserves the atmosphere of his old home, filled with both bronze and real cats.

But if there is one feline symbol that has conquered Japan and beyond, it is undoubtedly Maneki-neko. This beckoning cat of fortune has become an icon of Japanese culture. Originally placed in shops and restaurants as a charm to attract customers and prosperity, maneki-neko is now everywhere—from tiny keychains to giant urban installations, and even contemporary art and design.

And let’s not forget the greatest, smartest, and all-around most magnificent feline character in the history of human creativity—Morgana from Persona 5.

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"Strong Japanese Women"

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    未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

  Mike Soray

   (aka Michał Sobieraj)

未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

Mike Soray

(aka Michał Sobieraj)

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