They Are a Cat
by Gary Inbinder
Kafka the Cat awoke from a dream of large bowls of tuna, catnip and cream. His mouth opened wide in a yawn, his supple body stretched, rolled over twice, then righted itself. Re-oriented to the familiar confines of Mr. Nemo’s small apartment, Kafka padded from bedroom to living room. There he encountered an intruder. Kafka’s back arched; he hissed and bared his fangs. The thing that confronted him looked like an enormous, bedraggled black cat.
Kafka’s keen emerald eyes scrutinized the creature; after a moment he relaxed and meowed: “Good morning, Mr. Nemo. You look like a gross caricature of Felix the Cat. A bit early for Halloween, isn’t it?”
“Our pronoun is ‘they’,” the thing replied.
“Say what?” Kafka meowed.
“Our pronoun is ‘they’,” the creature repeated before adding, “We are a cat.”
Kafka hesitated a moment before replying. “No, you are not a cat. You’re Mr. Nemo pretending to be a cat in a crappy old Halloween costume.”
“Don’t trigger us,” Nemo hissed.
“Trigger this.” Kafka raised a forepaw and flipped out a claw.
“Watch it, Kafka. We’ll cancel you.”
Kafka strained to control his temper before continuing: “All right, Mr. Nemo, or they if they prefer. Will they please explain how this remarkable transformation came about?”
“Gladly. This morning we watched a show about cats on the Nature channel. The program had a profound effect on us. We suddenly realized that we are a cat. Moreover, we further realized that we are a female cat and therefore a birthing person. Thus, we could conceivably birth a litter entitling us to aid to dependent kittens. By the way, our name is Felicity.”
Kafka sniggered, “Mew, mew.” He continued his inquiry: “I see you — excuse me: they — have carefully checked all the relevant intersectionality boxes for the brain-dead bureaucrats who administer ADK benefits.”
Nemo — a.k.a. Felicity — scowled. “Check your privilege with your cis-specied, cis-gendered, transphobic, sexist, racist microaggressions. Remember, we can—”
“I know,” Kafka interjected, “they can cancel me. So what? I’m a cat. We felines don’t indulge in your Orwellian newspeak and virtue-signaling cancel culture. Our existence is not a social construct. We live in a natural world where the strong and clever survive and the weak and stupid go under. There are no safe spaces. It’s brutal but honest. Just out of curiosity, during your long and varied course of studies have you ever come in contact with biology?”
“Biology,” Nemo a.k.a. Felicity spluttered, “is racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, speciesist, ableist—”
“Enough already. I get it,” Kafka meowed. “I’m guessing this woke-word puke you’re spewing is part of your latest scam no doubt inspired by a recent announcement on the evening news. Our glorious state of Peredia just passed into law a very broad and generous victims of trans-species discrimination bill, and you’re looking to cash in.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” Nemo a.k.a. Felicity replied, reverting to his singular pronoun. “The government has screwed me six ways from Sunday. I’m overtaxed, over-regulated and a victim of reverse, up, down and sideways discrimination. It’s time I got some payback. Besides, since I’m your main provider of food and shelter, you stand to benefit, too.”
Always mindful of his self-interest, Kafka gave the matter some thought before replying. “You may be onto something. But do you think you can pull it off? After all, your pathetic cat act didn’t fool me.”
“Yes, but you know me. The people who run the trans-species reparations program are typical Peredian bureaucrats, graduates of our finest universities. Their heads are stuck up their elitist asses; stupid beyond belief. Their only competence is an uncanny ability to line their own pockets while wasting other people’s money.”
“That’s quite true,” Kafka meowed. “So, I suppose you’ll file your claim online?”
“Yes, and I want you to vouch for my female feline identity. In keeping with my new persona, I’ll qualify as a birthing person. Since we live together, I’m going to list you as my disabled unemployed spouse and the father of our kittens. Of course, you’ll need to round up some cute little kitties to claim as our dependents.”
“No problem. I can fake a disability and one of my dams just gave birth to a fine, healthy litter. She won’t mind moving in with us and bringing the kitties with her.”
“Purr-fect.”
Kafka winced. “Spare me your lame humor. This is serious. If the government catches on to our scam, we’ll be in an ocean of shit without a life preserver. It’s going to be tough keeping up a front. You’re going to get awfully tired of walking on all fours, meowing, chasing birds and mice and wearing that itchy, smelly old cat suit. And you’d better get your own litter box. Don’t you dare use mine!”
“I’ve already got my own litter box, and I’ve covered all the bases of my scheme,” Nemo replied with a sly grin. “I’ll list myself as gender- and species-fluid. So, if I’m caught being me, I’ll just claim I fluidly re-imagined myself as a cis-gendered male human. No telling when I’ll morph back into a female feline. According to the new law, claims of the species- and gender-fluid must be believed. It’s a sort of moral imperative. My plan is fool-proof.”
Kafka recalled his dream of large bowls of tuna, catnip and cream, and now it seemed within his grasp. “Sounds like you’re squared away,” he meowed with conviction. “This could work. Let’s do it.”
The two friends sauntered over to the computer, brought up the government website, completed and filed the forms. That night they both dreamed of a bounty of riches pouring forth from the Gargantuan bowels of the Peredian welfare state.
* * *
The Peredian bureaucracy lived up to its reputation for stupidity. In a state overflowing with jobless, homeless, suffering humanity, Nemo a.k.a. Felicity and Kafka’s bogus claim was approved swiftly and without question. The two grifters’ generous benefits enabled them to move to a cozy little house in an upscale Los Diabolos seaside neighborhood. Nemo a.k.a. Felicity, Kafka, his dam Isis and their kittens settled in comfortably as a happy feline family.
And, as luck would have it, their next-door neighbor was none other than Spiro Chetes, Peredia’s most celebrated Reality TV producer. Chetes, whose productions were noted for their promotion of non-traditional families, jumped at the chance of producing Peredia’s first reality show featuring a trans-species family.
Prior to production, Chetes acquired several chic cat costumes from a celebrity designer. To increase his — or rather, their — audience appeal, Nemo a.k.a. Felicity underwent a rigorous crash diet and exercise program. The result of this torturous regimen was a svelte, youthful trans-species female cat who fit easily into their slinky new feline wardrobe.
The show, titled Two Steps Beyond the New Normal, launched like a rocket that crashed through the ceiling, shot over the moon and kept on going. Nemo a.k.a. Felicity, Kafka and the kittens were overnight superstars. After the first few episodes, Isis demanded a part in the hit series and a bigger cut of the action.
Nemo a.k.a. Felicity and Kafka discussed the risks of various options, including bumping her off — stray female cats were expendable and easily replaced — but finally decided to accede to her demands. Nemo a.k.a. Felicity convinced Chetes to include “Auntie Isis,” Kafka’s sister who helped raise the kittens and manage the house. The audience ate it up. What’s more, the addition of Isis gave rise to rumors of a ménage à trois that added to the show’s popularity.
The trans-species cat family was everywhere: morning talk shows; daytime talk shows; evening talk shows; comedy shows; news shows; podcasts; the covers of fan magazines, fashion magazines, home and garden magazines, tabloids and so forth. They endorsed everything from high-tech robotic litter boxes to catnip flavored laxatives. As a result of their pop culture success, Peredia’s favorite Reality TV family received an invitation to the Presidential Palace as part of First Gentleman Doloso’s program promoting interspecific diversity and inclusion.
The social media cancel culture silenced skeptics including the faculty of Biology at Peredia University. Threatened with a cut-off of public funds, the head of the Biology Department declared that the phenomenon of a trans-species male human mating with a Tom Cat and giving birth to a litter of kittens was a “distinct possibility.”
* * *
Sunset over the Los Diabolos Peninsula. A streak of gold and crimson blazed on the horizon beneath a mauve blanket of clouds. The vivid atmospheric display reflected on the shimmering, mirror-like waters of the inlet. A gentle, foaming surf washed over the rocks and flowed onto the beige sands of a coastal beach. Isis and her kittens romped on the shoreline. Some of the kittens tussled with one another playfully; others chased small seabirds up and down the strand, all under the watchful eyes of their mother.
Nemo a.k.a. Felicity and Kafka observed the scene from their beach house deck facing the ocean. The two friends relaxed on lounge chairs. Kafka curled up next to his servings of prime tuna, cream and catnip; Nemo leaned back within comfortable reach of a glass-topped table set with bowls of peanuts, popcorn and potato chips, a pitcher of piña colada, a bong and a large bag of weed.
“How beautiful,” Nemo a.k.a. Felicity sighed as he gazed at the fiery sunset. Turning to Kafka he added, “We’re living the dream, pal. The Peredian Dream.” Then, as an afterthought, “Too bad it’s based on a lie.”
Kafka glanced up from his own realized dream of tuna, catnip and cream. “That bothers you? Dreams are, after all, illusions and illusions are, in essence, lies.”
“I mean I wish we could have all this great stuff without living a lie to get it. At heart I’m honest; I prefer the truth.”
“What is truth?” the cat meowed.
Nemo paused a moment to take a hit on his bong followed by a sip of piña colada, thinking an infusion of alcohol and cannabis would concentrate his mind prior to tackling a difficult question. “I think truth is the lie we choose to believe.” Satisfied with his response he took another toke and a sip.
Kafka demurred. “Your logic is faulty. Truth is truth; a lie is a lie. Saying otherwise is a contradiction.”
“I understand your position. Maybe a real-life illustration will help you to understand mine. We know that a male human, which I really am, can’t give birth to a litter of kittens, yet the head of the Biology Department at our most prestigious university declared that such a thing was a ‘distinct possibility.’”
“He said it under duress,” Kafka protested.
“Yes, of course. But here’s the point. Once he publicly declared it, anyone who contradicted him was denounced as a transphobic science-denier. What’s more, if the deniers didn’t make an immediate apology and retraction they were cancelled. The few who were brave enough to stick to their guns lost their jobs or were kicked out of school. They’ve been shunned, defamed, physically assaulted and worse. So, the lie that was the basis of our scam became the truth, because the vast majority of Peredians, including our President and her First Gentleman chose to believe it.”
Kafka dug in: “Just because the majority believes a lie doesn’t make it true. As for our President and her First Gentleman, they’re the biggest grifters on the planet. They know it’s a lie, but the lie is convenient for them politically. And the media manure spreaders also know it’s a lie, but they spread it because it serves their own interest to do so.”
“That goes without saying. That’s why they live the high life in palaces and mansions while many honest people suffer in poverty or languish in our prisons.”
“Are you familiar with Ionesco’s Rhinoceros?” Kafka asked.
“I’m afraid I don’t know Ionesco or his rhinoceros.”
“Le Rhinoceros is a play about conforming with the herd. Ionesco was thinking about France under Nazi occupation. Anyway, you remind me of a character in the play, the logic-twisting Logician. The Logician says to an old man, ‘Here is an example of a syllogism. The cat has four paws. Isidore and Fricot both have four paws. Therefore, Isidore and Fricot are cats.’ The old man answers, ‘My dog has got four paws.’ The Logician rejoins, ‘Then it’s a cat.’”
Nemo laughed. “That’s very funny. As for conforming with the herd, I prefer the term ‘going with the flow.’ It’s more Peredian. So where does the rhinoceros come in?”
“The rhinoceros is a metaphor for the herd mentality. The conformists turn into rhinoceroses and run with the herd. In the end, only one free-thinking individual is left.”
“So, Ion...Ion...”
“Ionesco.”
“Yeah, that guy. The playwright. He believed people could transform into another species, like I became a cat?”
“I told you it was a metaphor,” Kafka meowed impatiently.
“Yeah, right.” Nemo a.k.a. Felicity took another toke followed by a long swallow of piña colada. A significant buzz was followed by the munchies. He scarfed down peanuts, popcorn, and chips. As his belly filled and his buzz wore off his mood darkened like the evening sky. He looked out toward the beach where Isis and her kittens still frolicked. He stared at them for a while then turned to Kafka, who was finishing his tuna bowl.
“Hey, Kafka.”
The cat stopped eating and gazed at his friend. “What is it?”
“Isis played us a dirty trick, didn’t she?”
“I suppose so, but it turned out all right.”
“Maybe. But she’s greedy. She might try it again, only next time she’ll want a bigger slice of our pie. If we don’t give in to her demands, she could rat on us.”
Kafka narrowed his glowing emerald eyes. “If she tries to extort us, I’ll deal with it.”
“But what if—”
“I said I’ll deal with it!” the cat snarled. Then he added menacingly, “My way.”
“All right, pal. I know you’ll handle it efficiently, if necessary.” He leaned back in his chair and gazed up at an eternal blackness faintly lit by a pale moon and a few sparkling stars. A soft salty breeze blew in from the sea. “This is the life,” he sighed.
“Sure is,” Kafka meowed. “We’re living the Peredian Dream.”
Copyright © 2021 by Gary Inbinder
