A Zen temple invaded by carved wooden cats, a legend from beyond the grave, and me in the middle, ready to meow with joy.
To meow or not to meow
In a remote hamlet of Yamaguchi, on a winding road flanked by rice paddies, a strange sign appears: “A world that abandons its cats is a world destined to perish.” The tone is set. Welcome to Unrin-ji, alias Neko-dera, the cat temple.
From the entrance, dozens of wooden felines stand guard. Some look wise, others frankly mischievous. All of them are watching you. Once the surprise passes, you realise this place takes its feline cause seriously. And yet, it’s not just kitsch decor: it’s a Zen temple of more than 400 years.
The feline Hachikō
The story begins in the 17th century. Lord Mōri Terumoto dies. His vassal, Nagai Motofusa, chooses to follow him in death, according to samurai ritual. His faithful four-legged companion, a cat, begins a forty-nine-day vigil on his master’s tomb before letting himself die, gnawed by grief. Soon after, meowing haunts the night. The monk of the nearby temple performs a ritual to soothe the cat’s soul. Silence returns. The neighbourhood takes the name Neko-machi. The story of the faithful cat takes root in memory.
Centuries later, at the heart of a modest mountain temple, Unrin-ji, the monk Jisei Sumida discovers this legend. A cat lover, he inherits a collection of maneki-neko. He displays a few, then more flow in. Donations, local sculptures, travellers’ souvenirs. In a decade, the temple becomes a feline sanctuary.
Buddha meows too
At Unrin-ji, everything speaks cat. The ema, omikuji and omamori are scratched with paws. The sutra are illustrated with whiskers. The main statue? A cat-Buddha in lotus, sitting peacefully on the altar.
The walls are covered in figurines. Jizō with cat heads greet you. Hundreds of wooden sculptures invade the tatami down to every corner: seated cats, brooding cats, cats in deep nap, leaping cats…
And it’s not over. In front of the main building, two large maneki-neko await you, paws raised. Local legend says their photo, used as a phone wallpaper, attracts luck and prosperity. Why not? Sometimes, a real cat comes to greet you. And under the playful features, real gentleness nestles. Visitors light incense in memory of a lost companion. People pray, meditate, smile. The atmosphere is joyfully contemplative.
A purring spirituality
Here, no lesson. The message passes through cats. The monk Sumida understood it: to transmit compassion, nothing beats a heartfelt purr. The statues, the murals, the votive objects are not mere decorations. They are vehicles of connection. A bridge between the living and the departed. The priest’s goal is clear: to use the affection people have for cats to transmit, in a playful way, the Buddhist teachings of compassion and serenity. Every day, he in fact holds ceremonies in memory of the deceased (including prayers dedicated to lost pets), perpetuating the temple’s spiritual mission under the benevolent gaze of Buddha… and the cats!
Today, the temple fully embraces its feline identity. Most of the wooden cat sculptures that populate the place are works by a local artist, Takao Hayashi, a master of chainsaw sculpture. Renowned illustrators and manga authors have also donated cat drawings that adorn the walls. Even the Covid crisis found its answer: a statue of Amabie-cat (the feline version of the legendary creature said to ward off pandemics) sits at the entrance.
A bubble of whiskers
Unrin-ji is a mystico-kawaii treasure hunt, a Zen sanctuary where kitsch flirts with the sacred. A temple that strokes the visitor against the grain, until they purr in agreement. You want to come back gladly, as after a line of whiskers. The effect is immediate, gentle, and a touch addictive.
