Who You Care For Helps You Rebuild Yourself — A Common Structure Across Three Sites

The hand brushing the fur of a rescue dog trembles slightly. At the Onomichi Prison in Hiroshima Prefecture, a prisoner is seen brushing the back of a dog, a scene observed by visiting singer Natsuko Goshida.

The act of “caring for others” may initially seem like a burden for the giver. However, when we look at several sites in Hiroshima, a common structure emerges. Those who care for others gradually regain themselves through the act of caring. The act of supporting is intertwined with the act of being supported. Employment support at animal rescue cafes, the rescue dog program at the prison, and the establishment of a competitive environment for wheelchair softball — while each site has different subjects and contexts, they all stand on the same structure of “the caregiver being cared for.”

In this article, we will break down this structure piece by piece to explore “who benefits from this system.”

—

Dog and Cat Rescue Cafe — A Design of “Mutual Benefit” for Animals, People with Disabilities, and the Community

The dog and cat rescue cafe in Asaminami Ward, Hiroshima City, serves as a place to find homes for rescued dogs and cats while functioning as a continuous employment support facility for people with disabilities. In other words, the work of creating a safe haven for animals also becomes a system for creating a safe haven for people.

Staff members with disabilities are responsible for feeding and cleaning the animals and assisting customers. Interactions with animals, which do not require verbal communication, impose relatively low psychological stress on individuals who struggle with interpersonal communication. Reports indicate that the small fact of “a dog coming close to me” can lead to a recovery of self-esteem.

The cafe reportedly incurs monthly costs of about 500,000 yen. This includes food, medical expenses, facility maintenance, and wages for the staff. These costs are covered by benefits as an employment support project, income from cafe usage fees, and donations and volunteer efforts from local businesses and individuals. The complex revenue structure, which does not rely on a single source of funding, is crucial for its sustainability.

What is noteworthy is that this system simultaneously benefits three parties. Rescue dogs and cats can wait for new families while receiving proper care. Staff members with disabilities gain a sense of fulfillment from work that makes them feel they are “helping someone.” Local residents visiting the cafe take home soft moments through their interactions with the animals. It is not a one-sided relationship where one party is merely “doing for” the other; all three parties give and receive in turn. The very design that prevents this cycle from breaking down is likely the essence of this initiative.

—

Onomichi Prison — The Care of Rescue Dogs Reaches Beyond “Reflection”

The program for cohabitation with rescue dogs at Onomichi Prison is positioned as part of correctional education. Prisoners take on the daily care of rescue dogs — walking, feeding, handling waste, and training — preparing the dogs for life in society.

At the core of this program is the reconstruction of the experience of “taking responsibility.” Many prisoners have, in some form, damaged their relationships with others in the past. It is often said that dogs do not betray, but more accurately, dogs do not question a person’s past. By facing a being that responds unconditionally, prisoners come to understand, not just intellectually but physically, the causal relationship that “my actions directly affect the life in front of me.”

When singer Natsuko Goshida visited this site, she remarked that the prisoners’ expressions were completely different because of the presence of the dogs. The change in expression — while difficult to quantify — is an extremely important transformation in the context of rehabilitation. The feeling of being needed by someone can resonate deeper than the words “you need to reflect.”

The annual operating cost of the program is said to be around 1.5 million yen, which includes medical expenses for the dogs, food costs, and training fees. This scale would not be sustainable without collaboration with local animal protection organizations and volunteers, and here too, the “supporting side” is not a single entity but a structure where multiple stakeholders contribute little by little.

Creating points of contact between the closed environment of the prison and the outside civil society — the rescue dogs serve as that medium. Through the dogs, prisoners and the community are faintly connected. The fragility of that connection tells the delicate nature of this system.

—

Wheelchair Softball — Delivering Equipment Supports the Continuation of the Sport

The third site takes a slightly different angle. A local Rotary Club donated sports equipment worth about 300,000 yen — balls, gloves, and more — to a wheelchair softball team active in Hiroshima City.

Wheelchair softball is gaining attention as a sport where individuals can play on the same field regardless of disability, but the number of participants is still limited. Securing equipment, practice locations, and transportation — the infrastructure needed to continue the sport cannot be managed solely by the individual efforts of the players. The Rotary Club’s donation, while not a large sum, serves as a message that “there are people watching your activities.”

What is happening at this site is also a variation of the structure of “caring for others.” Players support each other by compensating for each other’s wheelchair movements during practice, encouraging one another, and sometimes adjusting each other’s equipment. Coaches and volunteers create a conducive practice environment, while local supporters provide funding and supplies. The sport itself is built upon a multi-layered structure of “mutual support.”

One player reportedly said, “More than winning or losing, when I come here, I have a role. That’s why I continue to come.” The weight of having a role is likely connected to what the staff at the dog and cat cafe and the prisoners at the prison are experiencing.

—

The Design Principle Connecting the Three Sites — The “Nested Structure of Care”

Dog and cat cafes, prisons, and wheelchair softball. While these three sites differ in their subjects, scales, and institutional frameworks, a common design principle becomes apparent when placed side by side.

First, the boundaries between the “caregiver” and the “care recipient” are blurred. Staff with disabilities caring for rescue dogs receive healing from the dogs. Prisoners caring for dogs regain their emotions through the presence of the dogs. Wheelchair softball players supporting their teammates confirm their own place by providing support. Care is not one-way; it is always reciprocal.

Second, the system operates not on “individual goodwill” but on the “contributions of multiple stakeholders.” In each site, there is not a single heroic supporter carrying everything. Government programs, private donations, volunteer time, and expert knowledge — each contributes a little, sustaining the whole. This “distributed support” enhances the durability of the system.

Third, the sense of “having a role” serves as a starting point for recovery. The restoration of self-esteem begins not from being told, “You are valuable,” but from the realization that “things are getting a little better because I am here.” Each of the three sites functions as a space that generates that realization.

—

Who Does This System Benefit?

Finally, I want to pause for a moment to reflect. While these initiatives are often told as beautiful stories, there are always costs and frictions on the ground. Monthly operating costs of 500,000 yen, annual program costs of 1.5 million yen, and 300,000 yen for equipment — while these numbers may not seem large, the weight of accumulating them continuously every year and every month is not easily visible from the outside.

That is why I want to ask, “Who does this system benefit?” It benefits the animals. It benefits people with disabilities. It benefits prisoners. It benefits the players. And — is the burden on those operating the system properly distributed? Is it not a structure that relies on goodwill?

The beauty of the system lies in its ability to keep running without anyone having to overextend themselves. What the three sites demonstrate is the image of gears that are still somewhat unstable but are certainly moving toward that ideal.

The day when the trembling hand brushing the dog’s fur stops will likely be a day that comes after the system has quietly continued to operate.