18+ Only. Play Responsibly.
The mouse was still there at the end.
It sat halfway across the reels underneath a blue ball of yarn while several cats occupied more useful positions around it, and the Wild on reel five had just helped the last free spin pay €7.60.
The feature total stood at €36.80.
The mouse had survived.
I considered that the more important statistic.
This café contained enough cats to make a small rodent an extremely temporary design choice, yet there it was, apparently finishing the session with better positional awareness than half the animals that had spent the previous thirty spins trying to sit on reel six.
I had started with €67.00.
The stake was €1.
There was a Buy Feature button available.
It wanted €100.
That settled the matter before any ethical discussion about purchasing entertainment for cats had to take place.
I pressed spin instead.
Cats Love Yummy opened inside a bright café where every usable surface appeared to belong to an animal.
There were plants.
Yarn.
Toy mice.
Feathers.
A piece of cheese that seemed to have badly misunderstood the local population.
Grey cats sat around looking exhausted by responsibilities nobody had given them. White-and-brown cats stared directly out of their symbols with the expression of creatures who had recently pushed something off a shelf and were waiting to see whether evidence still existed.
A blue ball of yarn appeared frequently.
It never looked used.
This was accurate.
Cats rarely want the toy you have prepared.
They want the piece of packaging beside it.
The first five spins produced almost nothing.
A few cats appeared in pairs.
The mouse appeared twice.
The cheese survived.
On the sixth spin, enough grey fur lined up for €2.20.
One of the cats had its eyes nearly closed.
It had contributed more money to the session than any fully alert animal so far.
The next spin brought a Cats Jackpot symbol onto reel six.
It landed in the upper position.
The active center square sat immediately beneath it.
Nothing happened.
A cat-shaped jackpot invitation had arrived at the café, inspected the correct chair and sat on the shelf above it.
That became the first thing I started watching.
Reel six.
The rest of the game could fill itself with yarn, mice, feathers and cats sleeping through their own symbol combinations.
I wanted to see whether anything on the far-right reel could locate the middle.
The jackpot symbol returned several spins later.
Bottom position.
Still wrong.
There were only three useful vertical possibilities and it had now demonstrated knowledge of two of them.
The middle remained apparently protected by cat law.
A group of toy mice paid €1.40 on spin eleven.
They disappeared after the result.
This was the first sensible thing a mouse had done.
Two Bonus symbols arrived on the next spin.
Then one.
Then none.
The café had begun developing a habit of showing me just enough special artwork to make the ordinary blue yarn look suspicious.
The grey cat returned.
The white cat returned.
A feather wand crossed several reels without accomplishing much.
Then a Wild appeared on reel four during spin seventeen and helped a white-cat combination reach €3.60.
The Wild vanished with the spin.
I watched reel four for a moment afterwards.
Nothing unusual remained there.
The cats immediately resumed pretending the entire incident had not happened.
Another Cats Jackpot silhouette landed on reel six.
Top again.
At this point the problem was no longer rarity.
The jackpot knew where the café was.
It simply refused to use the chair.
Spin twenty-three returned €3.20 through several yarn symbols.
I now had more money from wool than from the four-legged creatures supposedly responsible for it.
A ball appeared on the left.
Another on the right.
More dropped between them.
For one spin the café looked as though every cat had abandoned the room fifteen seconds before I arrived.
Then three grey faces came back at once.
Order was restored.
The Buy Feature remained untouched.
I had begun with less than it cost, and by this point I had even less.
The cats were going to have to produce their own entertainment.
After twenty-nine paid spins, €29.00 had gone out and €10.40 had come back.
The balance had reached €48.40.
It was not a disaster.
It was the financial equivalent of discovering that five cats had been left alone in a café and only one plant was missing.
I pressed spin thirty.
Four Bonus symbols landed.
Not three.
Four.
The café had spent half an hour offering them in ones and twos, then apparently found two extra behind the sofa.
Fifteen Free Spins appeared.
The €1 trigger had left €47.40.
I started the feature.
Something immediately changed in the geography.
Wilds had been wandering through the middle reels during normal play.
Now every Wild belonged to reel five.
One windowsill.
Entire building.
Every Wild cat in the feature had apparently agreed that this was the only square receiving sunlight.
The first free spin produced nothing.
On the second, grey cats appeared across the reels and the Wild landed exactly where they needed it.
€3.20.
The next spin brought a mouse.
No win.
The mouse remained offensively calm.
Free spin five filled enough of the screen with blue yarn to reach the reel-five Wild.
€4.80.
There were now enough balls of wool on screen to occupy a cat for perhaps eleven seconds.
The next refill cleared most of them.
A white cat fell into their place.
Then another.
No second win.
The café had removed all the yarn and replaced it with animals demanding to know what had happened to the yarn.
Two Bonus symbols landed on free spin seven.
The counter grew by five.
The feature had started with fifteen.
Now it had twenty in total.
No third Bonus symbol was required.
Two were apparently sufficient for the cats to extend opening hours.
The jackpot area remained quiet.
That was fine.
Reel six had already spent the base game proving it could sit everywhere except the useful square.
Free spin nine finally gave the white cats enough room.
They covered several positions, the reel-five Wild completed the useful part of the arrangement, and €7.60 arrived.
One of the white cats had the same face it had worn during the €3.60 base-game win.
The amount had doubled.
The expression had not moved.
I started treating that cat as the professional.
The grey ones slept.
The white one handled situations.
The mice hoped nobody noticed them.
The yarn was self-employed.
The next few spins stayed smaller.
A feather toy.
A mouse.
Grey fur.
One lonely ball.
The Wild appeared again but had nothing useful to substitute for.
It sat on reel five surrounded by unrelated objects.
The only seat in the café reserved for Wilds had finally been occupied by one at a moment when everybody else had gone to different tables.
Free spin thirteen returned €2.40 from a toy combination.
Then the screen went quiet again.
Three spins later, the grey cats came back in force.
This time the reel-five Wild landed with them.
The combination reached €11.20.
The sleepy cat had finally overtaken the professional.
It still looked unconscious.
The feature had three spins left.
One Bonus symbol appeared.
No extension.
A blue ball arrived beside it.
Then a mouse.
The second-last spin paid nothing.
The final spin began with the mouse again.
More mice dropped around it.
Reel five supplied the Wild.
€7.60.
The feature ended.
Total: €36.80.
My balance became €84.20.
I had started at €67.00.
There was no reason to test whether the café could eat €17.20 after successfully finding it.
I left the spin button alone.
The summary sat over the last arrangement.
The grey cats had gone.
The professional white cat was elsewhere.
The jackpot symbol was absent, presumably still trying chairs around the perimeter.
A blue ball of yarn remained visible.
And underneath it sat the mouse.
Thirty paid spins.
Twenty free ones.
An entire café of cats.
The mouse had made it through all of them.
I closed the session with €84.20.
The cats had won me €17.20.
The mouse had won something considerably less measurable.
It was still alive.
I reached the bonus. Oishi Delights reached critical apathy.