In the middle of the room lay a monster rat—a rat as big as a cow! It lay dead, as if something had smashed it to the floor.
Joji looked around the room. No one and nothing else was there—just the screens with the cats. Then Joji looked again at the one gigantic cat.
“Didn’t I draw the head to the left and the tail to the right?”
Yes, he was sure of it. But now the cat faced the other way—as if it had come down off the screen and then gone back up.
“The cat!” said Joji. His eyes grew wide. Then he pressed his palms together and bowed to the screen.
“Thank you, honorable cat. You have saved me. For as long as I live, no one will stop me from drawing cats.”
* * *
When the villagers learned that the monster rat was dead, Joji became a hero. The village priest let him live in the temple as long as he liked.
But Joji did not become a priest. And he did not become a farmer.
He became an artist. A great artist. An artist honored through all the country. An artist who drew just one thing.
Cats!