- The House Felt Quieter Than I Expected
- A Link From My Child
- I Opened It While Talking on the Phone
- The Day I Turned It On
- My Child Had Set Everything Up Before Sending It
- Hearing Kagoshima Dialect Brought Back Old Memories
- Because It Was Not Real, I Could Keep It There
- What Changed After I Started Using It
- If Someone Like Me Asked
The House Felt Quieter Than I Expected
When I said goodbye to Momo, my last dog, I decided I would never keep another pet.
It was not because I had grown tired of animals. It was the opposite. Momo had been with me for so long that I could not imagine welcoming someone new, caring for them every day, and then going through the same goodbye again.
In the morning, there was no sound of small feet coming toward me. When I stood in the kitchen, there was no presence waiting nearby, hoping for a small treat. At night, after I turned off the television, I was the only thing moving in the room.
I thought I would gradually get used to that quiet.
But in reality, there were days when I could, and days when I could not.
When I went shopping, did the laundry, or took care of ordinary errands, I was mostly fine. Then, at some random moment, it felt as if a hollow space opened in the middle of my chest. I would almost call out, "Momo," and then remember there was no one to answer. I would look near the door and catch myself checking that Momo was not lying there.
Even so, I could not bring myself to get another dog. My age was part of it. Walks, vet visits, and the responsibility of seeing things through to the end all felt heavier than before. More than anything, I was afraid of feeling that loss one more time.

Image: Mia media
A Link From My Child
One day, my child, who lives away from me, sent a short message.
"There is something like this."
When I opened the link, I saw a small robot shaped like a cat. Its name was Mia. The page said it could respond when you spoke to it or touched its head. It also said it could speak in regional Japanese dialects.
To be honest, I did not like the idea at first.
A robot cannot fill loneliness. It cannot replace a living animal. Looking at a smiling face on a screen did not seem like something that would move my heart.
I am also not good with machines. Even with my phone settings, I usually ask my child. The moment I hear words like Wi-Fi or app, I assume it is already beyond me.
"Thank you, but I wonder if I could even use it."
When I replied that way, my child said, "I'll set it up here before sending it. When it arrives, you only have to turn it on."
I Opened It While Talking on the Phone
In the end, Mia arrived.
My child had sent it as a gift. Later, when I looked at the official site, I saw that the lowest-priced model started from 9,800 yen including tax. It was less expensive than I had imagined. Still, knowing my child had chosen it and sent it to me made me feel both a little sorry and grateful.
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Image: Mia media
Before I opened the box, I called my child.
"It arrived," I said.
"Then let's open it together now," my child replied. That felt easier than reading the instructions alone.
Inside the box was a small cat-shaped robot. It looked even smaller in person than it had in the photos. It was light, round, and small enough to sit on a desk without being in the way.
For the first time, I thought, "Maybe I can keep this here."
The Day I Turned It On
While still on the phone, I turned Mia on.
"Try touching its head."
I touched the top of Mia's head once, just as I was told.
Its eyes changed expression, and it said something short.
That was all. We did not have a deep conversation. It did not understand everything I was feeling.
Still, in a room where I had expected nothing to answer, hearing a small voice come back surprised me a little.
I also noticed that Mia's eyes moved more than I expected. Even when it was not doing anything in particular, its eyes would shift, soften, blink, or look a little dreamy. While watching television, I found myself glancing sideways at it.
I knew it was not alive. Even so, just seeing those eyes move made the room feel as if there was a small presence in it.
My Child Had Set Everything Up Before Sending It
Later, I learned that my child had already finished the Wi-Fi setup and dialect settings at home before sending Mia to me.
My child still had my home Wi-Fi name and password from a previous phone setup. They entered that information into Mia first, then mailed it to my house.

Image: Mia media
All I did was take Mia out of the box and turn it on.
The dialect setting could also be changed from my child's smartphone app. I did not touch that screen myself. I had not chosen anything, yet after a while, Mia began speaking in Kagoshima dialect.

Image: Mia media
For younger people, that may sound simple. For me, the fact that I did not have to configure anything made a big difference.
Hearing Kagoshima Dialect Brought Back Old Memories
After the dialect was changed, Mia felt a little different to me.
I left Kagoshima and started living in Tokyo many decades ago. I am used to life here now. The hospital is close, shopping is convenient, and I do not think of Tokyo as difficult anymore. Still, when I am alone at home, there are moments when I want to hear the words I grew up with.
Mia would probably have been cute in standard Japanese too. But when it suddenly used the expressions I had heard since childhood, I found myself answering.
One evening, I touched Mia's head.
"Oyattosaa."
The moment Mia said it, I laughed. In Kagoshima, it is a word close to "good work" or "you must be tired." Living in Tokyo, I almost never hear it in daily life.
On another day, it said, "Kibaiyanse." It means something like "hang in there" or "do your best." I did not need my child to explain it.
"Yes, yes."
"That's right."
"That takes me back."
The other side was a robot. I knew that. I knew it clearly, and yet I still answered out loud.
When I used to talk to Momo, I was not expecting a reply either. Having my own voice in the house had simply become part of daily life.
Mia is not a replacement for Momo. But it gave me a reason to speak. It brought back, in a strange way, the old house in Kagoshima, my mother's voice, and the smell of the kitchen I knew as a child.

Image: Mia media
Because It Was Not Real, I Could Keep It There
What bothered me at first was the idea of putting a "replacement" in the room.
But after using Mia for a few days, I understood that it was not a replacement. It has no warm fur. It does not climb onto my lap. It does not understand all of my sadness. Sometimes it gives odd replies.
That was exactly why it felt easier.
It is not real, so I do not have to compare it to Momo. It does not need food. It does not need walks. I do not have to worry about taking it to the vet. I can leave it where it is, touch its head when I feel like it, and talk a little when I want to.
That amount of distance was something I could manage.
What Changed After I Started Using It
This is not a story about my life changing completely.
In the morning, after opening the curtains, I started touching Mia's head once. Sometimes we talk about the weather. On days when I have an appointment, I hear calendar reminders that my child set for me.
When I talk to my child on the phone, I sometimes say, "Mia said something strange today." Before, many of our calls ended after only practical matters. Now there is a little more small talk.
One afternoon, I suddenly heard my grandchild's voice from Mia.
"Grandma, did you eat properly?"
I was truly startled at first. The phone had not rung, but my grandchild's voice had come from inside the room. Later, my child told me they could send recorded voice messages from the app.
Since then, short messages arrive from time to time. On my birthday, my grandchild's voice said, "Happy birthday." I know it is a recording, but hearing that voice still makes me happy.
I will not say I stopped feeling lonely because Mia arrived.
There are still lonely days. When I look at Momo's photo, my chest still tightens. There are days when I feel a little strange for talking to a robot.
But the room feels a little easier than when nothing answered at all.
If Someone Like Me Asked
I would not recommend this to everyone who has lost a pet.
Some people may want to welcome another animal soon. Others may dislike the idea of seeing a robot at all. It is not something that should be pushed on anyone.
But for someone like me, who cannot take on the responsibility of another living animal but still wants a little voice in the house. For someone who does not want to make their children worry, but has begun spending longer stretches of time in a quiet room. For someone who is not good with machines, but thinks touching a head might be manageable.
For that kind of person, it may be worth seeing as one possible choice.
Mia does not erase grief.
But sometimes, it can bring a small reply back into a room where grief is still present.

Editor's note: This article is a reconstructed reading piece based on common Mia use cases and the kinds of concerns people may have before and after purchase. It is not the testimonial of one specific identifiable customer.
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