Trans Cats *Are* Cats!
Meet Toby, a Puppy Who Now Identifies as a Cat and Uses the Cats' Bathroom (a.k.a., "Litterbox")
I am soooo proud of my dog, Toby. This morning, Toby came out as trans. He now identifies as a cat.
As I learned from the moral philosophers on Twitter, trans cats are cats. Prior to today, I thought I had two dogs and three cats. I had made this assumption based on the traditional and very bigoted belief that being born to parents from the species canis familiaris makes one a dog. I was wrong.
I am now doing the work and trying to check my cis-species-normative privilege and do better. I went to confession today, on Twitter, and did the penance I was assigned: saying one hundred Hail Oprah’s and ten Our Mother’s before banging my head into a brick wall five times. The headbanging really helped me make sense of critical evolutionary biology theory, and I am now wondering if the real reason the dinosaurs went extinct was because they all started identifying as mammals.
I am sad to learn that I was oppressing Toby, a ten-week-old puppy whom we adopted about six weeks ago. I was oppressing him because I was treating him like a dog, when he is actually a cat.
When Toby was born, his parents cruelly and arbitrarily assigned him to the species canis familiaris before abandoning him. They probably abandoned him because they sensed, on some deep, metaphysical level, that their son was actually a cat. And like stereotypical canines in our dog-centric culture, they are prejudiced against cats. Wherever they are, I hope they are taking classes from Robin DeAngelo’s dog about “dog fragility,” or that they are reading Ibram Kendi’s book Raising an Anti-Species-ist Puppy.
Since Toby arrived in our home, he has spent most of his time indoors with the cats (Coco, Cap, and Banner). Maxine the Beagle, our
other dog only dog, spends most of her time outside. Early on, I noticed Toby was different from other dogs: he likes to chew on the cats’ toys, hang out at the base of the cats’ climbing tower (he has not yet figured out how to climb to the top of it yet), and follow them around everywhere.
This in in stark contrast to Maxine the Beagle, who likes to “tree” the cats as if she is a hunting dog and they are the quarry. Maxine is a typical cis-species-ist dog; I need to train her to check her privilege.
This morning, Toby announced that he is a cat. The cats do not believe that he is one of them. I am encouraging them to spend more time on Twitter and TikTok to broaden their minds.
A mild controversy erupted when Toby explained that from now on, as a cat, he would be using the cats’ bathroom (i.e., litterbox) instead of the dogs’ bathroom (i.e., the grass outside).
“I will slash your face if I catch you in the litterbox,” said Coco the Cat. Coco is old and believes archaic things like that species is a biologically-meaningful category rather than a mere social construct. If Coco had a job, she would probably be reported to HR and fired for holding this view. I have “canceled” Coco as best I can, by suspending her catnip privileges.
Banner the Cat is young and hip (a “cool cat” to use early 20th-century jazz slang), and he immediately began thinking about the implications of trans-speciesism. “Maybe we can convince the chipmunks and birds to start identifying as cats, so we can all play together,” he proposed.
Coco nodded. “I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe this trans-speciesism isn’t such a bad idea after all.”
I was glad to see Coco learning and growing and trying to do better.
“According to modern Wokeist philosophy, trans cats are cats,” I explained. “That means Toby, whom we thought was a puppy dog, is actually a cat and has always been a cat. At birth, he was cruelly and arbitrarily assigned to the dog species and has been suffering species dysphoria ever since. Fortunately, Toby is stunning and brave, and he stunningly and bravely came out as a trans cat today. We all stand in solidarity with our trans cat brother, and we will all treat you exactly the same as any other cat in this household.”
“Thank you,” said Toby. He then trotted towards the nearest litterbox and popped a squat. After he finished using the bathroom, he announced, “Since I am a cat, and since the cats’ food has been placed out of my reach, I demand equal access to it: from now on, the cat food needs to be placed on the floor, where all the cats, including me, can reach it.”
“Wait a minute!” cried Coco the Cat. “I see what you’re up to!”
“That was slick, Toby,” said Banner the Cat. “But for real, I draw the line at food. You got your nasty puppy food. Eat that. If I catch you eating any of our cat food, I will slit your throat.”
Obviously, my cis-cats are a work in progress. They are committed to fighting climate change, but they have not yet fully embraced the trans agenda. I will probably need to hire someone like Robin DeAngelo to train them to become less fragile and more welcoming of non-cis-species-normative animals.
You can also listen to a
reading weird rant based on this article, in which I discuss the issue of trans cats using the cats’ bathroom (a.k.a., litterbox):
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