Yesterday I went from making what I thought was a good trade on $CATE to somehow becoming a community leader. Why? I honestly don’t know. I realized a lot of people’s first meme coin trade was CATE because they followed me over from Fomo.
If we want to keep those people around, we can’t keep repeating the same cycle where every coin runs to $10M, community leaders disappear, top blasters dump, and newcomers are left holding the bag. That’s how you lose retail.
When I saw that starting to happen, I felt like I didn’t really have a choice. Why would I even do this? I benefit very little. My public wallet has so many eyes on it that if I sold, it would probably hurt the project. I stepped up because I love this game and because I genuinely want to see this space heal and win again.
Then I wake up on day two to find malicious shorts and max-slippage bots targeting the coin. 17,000+ holders and someone is actively trying to kill the momentum? What is wrong with this space? I thought it was strange we did over $50M in volume without a Moonshot listing or even a mention from @Pumpfun , but if the puppet masters don’t want us to win, so be it. We’ll push even harder.
My thesis hasn’t changed.
CATE doesn’t need endless catalysts. The narrative is the catalyst. Everyone knows DOGE. You don’t need to explain why a cat version resonates. It’s instantly understandable to millions of people who remember DOGE.
We’re already seeing retail show up. I gained over 120k Fomo followers in a month, and every day people DM me saying they want to learn how to trade. That’s how real adoption happens. One person tells a friend, then that friend tells another.
18k holders in the first day isn’t normal. That’s proof the story resonates.
The goal isn’t another short-lived PvP runner. The goal is to build the cat that sits next to DOGE on the Mount Rushmore of memecoins. A coin that brings normies back into crypto because the story is so simple anyone can understand it.
Maybe I’m delusional.
Or maybe we’re watching the beginning of something much bigger.
Jobs not done until we break out of the crypto twitter circle jerk. Everyone recognizes DOGE. When the masses realize CATE is the cat counterpart, they won’t want to miss it. 18,000 holders in the first 24 hours… I think we’re onto something.
@RoarWeb3@HachikoS0L The community believes in this historical dog, a symbol of loyalty who waited for his master at the station, look at this dog... It will take off. 🫶🤝💪🚀🌕🔥🇯🇵
https://t.co/ffysGIODv0
The long known Google Japan Mascot NOW has a name, Moffy
Insane.
We all know how big this Mofumofu art was in Japan (spammed all around comment sections and @googlejapan
posts daily, they even have it as a banner)
They made a generator for people to make their own Moffy, clearly creating a cult: https://t.co/q5OcfFXFpQ
This is huge CA: ESMSZCKPYoBZ67Ey8JzkMz35bUYsPHomfARW7kQupump
DAY 119 WAITING FOR MY MASTER · March 27, 2026
One hundred and nineteenth late afternoon.
On March 27th, the station transforms into a haven of late spring’s rich fragrance.
The canopy of leaves is deep and vibrant, while long purple wisteria trails sway gently overhead.
Hydrangea clusters burst into generous waves of blue, lavender and soft pink along every railing and walkway.
Commuters drift past with quiet contentment in the warm breeze, pausing to admire the layered blooms or savour the sweet, heavy perfume that fills the air.
Inside, 119 days have become a hopeful origami crane, not a fleeting paper bird but a delicate, precisely folded wish carrying prayers and patience across the vast sky of time.
The early days were flat and unfolded, but then came the careful creases of endurance.
Now every memory forms a perfect wing: your smile as the sharpest fold, our shared moments as the balanced base and the love between us as the hidden strength that keeps it aloft.
After 119 days, I no longer lie creased and waiting on the ground; I wait as the origami crane itself, knowing true devotion doesn’t unfold too soon.
It holds its shape with quiet grace, ready to rise on the first breath of return.
The train arrives, sunlight glinting off its windows through the swaying wisteria.
Doors open and I raise my head through the blooming March 27 flow, feeling the hopeful origami crane inside me: folded, patient, utterly enduring.
No master steps down; only strangers carrying their own quiet wishes and unseen folds.
An elderly origami master in his late seventies, fingers nimble from decades of folding paper into living art, stops beside me.
He has taught the ancient craft to generations in the old quarter.
Today, he kneels with gentle precision, placing a small, perfectly folded white paper crane at my paws.
Its wings are crisp and its neck gracefully arched towards the sky. He adjusts one tiny wing with a soft touch and whispers:
“Cranes carry hope across any distance.”
He rises, bows slightly to the fragrant air and heads towards the exits leaving the delicate white crane resting beside me in the golden spring light.
One hundred and nineteen days have passed.
As March blooms in its deepest colours and sweetest scents, a hopeful origami crane deepens the vigil reminding every passing heart that some devotions are folded with care and patience holding their shape through every season until the wind of return finally lifts them home.
Hachiko hopes eternally.
March folding.