Bodega Cats of New York (@bodegacatsofny.bsky.social)

R. Kikuo Johnson’s “Bodega Cat” How a New Yorker cover captured what we’ve been documenting for years<figure><img alt="" src="https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/659/1*gYlOhfu1nW5a4BeIV0-tCQ.jpeg" /><figcaption>Bodega Cat by R Kikuo Johnson</figcaption></figure>In September 2023, a black cat appeared on the cover of The New Yorker. One eye open. Lounging on the counter next to scratch-off tickets and snack displays. A customer’s hands visible at the edge of the frame, coin in hand, working a lottery ticket while the cat watched. The image, painted by R. Kikuo Johnson, was titled “Bodega Cat.”It was the first time the magazine had put a bodega cat on the cover.Johnson has been illustrating New Yorker covers since 2016. He grew up on Maui, studied at the Rhode Island School of Design, and moved to Brooklyn in 2003. That same year, he found his first bodega.In an interview with the magazine’s art editor, Françoise Mouly, Johnson described arriving in East Williamsburg when the neighborhood was in the middle of massive changes. His apartment building had been a sweatshop only months before. New construction was going up on every corner. But the bodega on his block stayed the same.After a few regular visits, the owner handed him a small notepad and a pencil and asked him to write down anything he wanted stocked in the store. Johnson looked around. He was twenty-two and barely making rent. He grabbed his usual order: a Colt 45 and a Choco Taco, each priced at a dollar.“I handed the owner back his notepad and said, ‘You have everything I need.’”That story is everything I recognize about this city. The owner who knows his regulars. The store that stocks what the neighborhood actually needs. The trust built through repeated visits and small exchanges. The cat is part of that ecosystem. Not the center of attention, just present. Watching the lottery player scratch away. Waiting for the next person to walk through the door.What the painting gets right. Johnson painted a black cat with one eye open. That detail matters. Bodega cats are not asleep. They are resting and alert at the same time. They know when someone walks in. They know when a delivery arrives. They know the difference between a regular and a stranger. The single open eye captures that awareness without making it dramatic.The lottery ticket is right too. I have photographed dozens of cats stationed near lottery displays. The scratch-off counter is prime real estate. Warm from the equipment. High visibility. Central to the action. Customers linger there. They have conversations while they play. The cat hears all of it. The snacks crowding the background are exactly what they should be. No artful minimalism. Just the practical chaos of a working store. Takis. Chips. Energy drinks. A bodega is not curated. It is stocked.Johnson told Mouly he visits hardware stores and bike-repair shops as much for the cats as for the inventory. That tracks. Once you start noticing, you see them everywhere. Not because you are looking. Because they are there. Always have been.A cat person by accident Johnson admitted in the interview that he was not always a cat person. About ten years ago, his partner adopted a cat named Blua when they moved to Cape Cod. He was not excited about it. He tolerated Blua hopping onto his desk while he drew, sitting on his keyboard while he typed. After a year, he started to enjoy having her in his lap. He still did not understand how anyone could become emotionally attached to an animal.Then one day, contractors left doors open while doing work on their rental. Johnson came home to find multiple doors ajar. No sign of Blua.For an hour, he searched the woods, imagining the worst. Back inside, slumped on the couch, trying to find the words to text his partner, he heard a small sound. Blua peeked out from behind a wardrobe.“I was surprised by my own tears,” Johnson said. “I was in love with a cat.” Blua is gone now. Her photo is still the wallpaper on his phone.That conversion story is familiar. I hear versions of it from bodega owners all the time. The cat was not their idea. It came with the lease. It was handed over by a previous tenant. It wandered in and would not leave. They did not want it. Then one day, they noticed it was part of the routine. Part of the store. Part of their life.Recognition The cover went viral in a way New Yorker covers rarely do. People shared it. Reposted it. Bought prints. The New York Public Library shop turned it into a puzzle that became one of their bestsellers.The response confirmed something I already knew. People care about bodega cats. Not as novelty. Not as content. As a real part of New York life that rarely gets formal recognition.Johnson has won multiple awards for his New Yorker covers, including gold medals from the Society of Illustrators and an American Society of Magazine Editors Best Cover award. In 2023, he became the first graphic novelist to receive the Whiting Award for fiction. His work appears in the Library of Congress.“Bodega Cat” is not his most decorated piece. But it might be his most New York.The image does what the best bodega cat documentation does: it shows the animal in context. Not posed. Not cute. Just present. Part of the daily machinery of a city that pretends it does not exist.Every cat in Bodega Cats of New York is technically illegal. So is the one on that cover. That is what makes the recognition feel like it matters.Our book, “Bodega Cats of New York” comes out October 2026.<img src="https://medium.com/_/stat?event=post.clientViewed&referrerSource=full_rss&postId=1ed1444728d1" width="1" height="1" alt=""> https://medium.com/@bodegacatsofnewyork/r-kikuo-johnsons-bodega-cat-1ed1444728d1?source=rss-275c45351c9------2