A woman lives alone with her cats, who've decided she's their grandfather. Tsushima shows up one day and refuses to care what anyone thinks. The entire show is just her trying to figure out if she's raising a cat or if the cat is raising her, twelve episodes of tea and silent arguments and the kind of laughter that comes from recognizing yourself in something small and stubborn.
An older woman has built a quiet life surrounded by cats, who've collectively decided she's their grandfather figure. They call her Ojii-chan, and she's made peace with this particular identity crisis. Everything changes when Tsushima, a scrappy cat with zero respect for boundaries, barrels into her yard with the energy of a tiny furry hurricane. Unlike the other cats, Tsushima doesn't care about hierarchy or propriety. He's loud, reckless, and somehow magnetic in his refusal to play by anyone's rules. What begins as Ojii-chan trying to keep Tsushima in line becomes something messier and more genuine. As days pass, a strange found-family dynamic emerges between this woman, her elderly cat posse, and the newcomer who refuses to fit into their established order. The show finds humor in everyday moments: cats being cats, an older person navigating the absurdity of her own life, and the unexpected ways affection forms when nobody's really trying. It's comfort television about belonging to something, even when the whole setup is completely ridiculous.