As we sat outside at the breakfast table between Chiang Rai, Thailand’s Riverie hotel and the Kok River, Aster and Jodie began to laugh. At a table behind us, which had been departed but not yet cleared of dishes, a stray gray cat had hopped up and nicked a slice of ham off a plate. Little did it know it was foreshadowing our day at a Chiang Rai cat cafe.
“Just as Aster did not know what was in store, I had no idea about the leopard.”
Little did Aster know how much cats would inform the day. After a day of sightseeing iconic temples, the following day we told the kids we had a special treat in store. But just as Aster did not know what was in store, I had no idea about the leopard.
A cafe full of kitties awaits in downtown Chiang Rai, Thailand
Grabbing a Grab to downtown Chiang Rai, we had two objectives for the day. Jodie was going to get a massage. Across the street from the massage parlor, we were also going to have lunch and drinks amongst the kitties, at Chiang Rai’s Cat ‘n’ A Cup Cat Café.
What is a cat cafe?
If you’re not familiar with cat cafés—or “catfés,” as Connor says they should be called—the concept is pretty simple.
The first cat café opened in Taipei, Taiwan, in 1998, under the premise that instead of people needing to have a pet, they could visit kitties in a serene environment. From there, over time, the idea has spread, especially throughout East and Southeast Asia. (Apparently there is also a husky dog café in Bangkok, which Connor has told us he would like to visit.)
Our family’s experience visiting a Chiang Rai cat cafe
With our order number in hand and our shoes tucked onto a shelf, we opened the black-rimmed glass door that separates the front counter and ordering area from the land of the cats. As our bare feet walked over the warm wood floor, we picked a low wooden table and set down our things.
Aster was all but vibrating.
Around her, about a dozen cats slowly walked across the floor, or climbed wooden steps and beams that progressed in height from the floor to the exposed ceiling. On a tiered wooden platform in one corner by the large plate glass side window, four cats dozed, each on its own shelf. Spaced along the walls, small wooden crates and white, egg-like chairs all held slumbering cats.
Eyes wide as a cat’s in the dark, Aster buzzed her way from cat to cat. While she has occasionally befriended a kitty on our travels, this was the most she had been around cats since leaving our own cat, Jasmine (now recently departed) back in August.
“Aster as a cat,” said Connor, “would be two words: agile and adorable.”
A white cat with gray feet slow-walked around the room. Twin long-haired gray cats each did their own thing. One dozed in a wooden crate. The other strutted from the table to table, too cool to stay anywhere. (Though every time we saw that cafe walk away, I couldn’t help but think that from behind, long-haired cats all look like they’re wearing furry pantaloons.) A short-haired, cappuccino-colored, blue-eyed Siamese felt sleek and warm as it let each of us rub a hand over its peach fuzz back.
We gathered around the corner shelf—and all of us stopped.
Spot the leopard
On the third shelf up from the floor, a little leopard dozed. None of us had ever seen such a cat. (You, I am sure, have probably already guessed that we were awestruck by a type of Bengal, a breed that typically resembles bigger cats, such as ocelots—not the Minecraft kind—or, as we were now seeing, leopards.)
For the moment, we let the leopard sleep. Later, though, it had decided it was ready to make its rounds. The little leopard even let the kids hang out while the cat drank water from a bubbling fountain near the window. They sat on either side of it, taking turns petting it or scratching its head. The cat looked from one to the other, then continued doing its own thing. But it often stayed close to the children, moving on only when it seemed that something between them all had reached a completion.
Visiting a cat cafe can bring happiness as well as healing
Our own cat, Jasmine, had passed away in mid-November, a few months after we had started our travels. Ever since, Aster’s love of animals has never waned.
However, she has also gained more of the understanding that we can experience many feelings at the same time. She has felt joy around animals, especially cats, but that joy has been mixed with sadness and grief for our own beloved kitty.
Connor can be more internal with his own feelings, but he too has felt his share of sadness over Jasmine’s passing. Now, as they sat with this little leopard in a café in northern Thailand, I saw something else in their eyes: happiness. And healing.
Grief has its time, after all. It needs to. It’s healthy for us to grieve the loss of those we love. But in the children, as the little leopard left them for the last time, I saw in their eyes one more thing. The thing that comes from grief, or loss, or sadness, once it’s run its course, and we’ve learned from it.
Their capacity for love and joy grew, and their hearts got stronger. I saw them understand that if grief is a journey through a sad, dim country, there are brighter days on the other side. And now, at last, they were stepping foot onto that new place.
Visiting a cat cafe can bring healing, and it can bring happiness. And on your visit to Chiang Rai, Thailand, their cat cafe is well worth a visit.
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