I am Declaring Jan. 13, Friday, “Black Cat Day.”
Friday the 13th is coming! That means it’s “unlucky” in America. Black cats (all black animals) are still quite discriminated against and can be the last adopted in shelters, along with “special needs” and elderly animals.
You’d think this is fake, like uncommon in 2023, but my neighbour 2 years ago had an out-loud, loud conversation with her adult kids about how my elderly black cat being in the grass across the street, was an ill omen and needed to be avoided.
Miss Squeak E. Mouse has only ever been a sweet old grandma cat. She escorts baby ducks to and from ponds to keep hawks away. She hangs out with possums because they’re gentle and scared, like she often.
And these people make threatening tones and speeches about how this tiny, 6-7lb black cat, is secretly evil.
I think Friday the 13th needs to be Black Cat Day.
You know what, post ALL your black animals. Remind people how freaking cool they are, undeserving of this BS “bad luck” superstition.
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omg what are your kins?? do you have a fursona? o7o
1. I have a few kintypes that I've definitely nailed down. These are a Bombay cat, Kooikerhondje dog, a green heron, and umbreon! I haven't confirmed any other kintype, though.
2. I do have a fursona! Fin's name is Marble, it's a borzoi, and they use they/it/fin pronouns, but that's not really listed anywhere
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The Old Barn
The thoughts of a therian, by Tapioca
Every time I think back to my life as a barn cat, one singular memory plays in my head. I leap off the old fence, which I can never recall what exactly was the color of the thing. I bound into a grassy field, did it have hay or flowers? Only the old me knows. I pad into the even older barn, which I believe was a dull red. I can’t exactly make out what the entire scene looks like, but I can imagine what my past must’ve held.
I imagine theres a house next to the barn, where the old farmer must live in. Was it a guy? I think it was. I find myself calling him the old farmer, it seems the entire place was decades old.
I enter the barn, the interior’s layout I cannot fully recall. I wonder if there were other animals with me. Perhaps horses? Sheep? Goat? Cattle? Pigs? Chickens? Did my farmer grow crops or raise livestock? Only he and the old me know.
I wonder if there was a herding dog that worked alongside me, a coworker, a companion, a friend. If there was, I think they’d be a collie. A black border collie at that. I’m sure the herder would be the old farrmers best friend when off duty, sleeping in the mans old run down house while I settled on the hay of the barn.
I have no hard feelings for this theoretical dog, I prefer my hay bales over their dog bed. My freshly caught prey over their kibble.
I wonder what prey I caught, whatever I was put on this barn for. What population was I set to control? Mice? Of what kind? Rats? Squirrel? Chipmunks? Moles? What rodents plagued the old farms crops, or livestock?
I wonder what kind of bugs scattered across the barn walls and floors. Centipedes? Roaches? Beatles? Ladybugs? Moths? Flies? Were there spiderwebs in the corners? Did I swat at them as they tried to run by?
How many kits did I have? Did the old farmer let me keep them? Did he give them collars? Did he give them names? What was my name? I hope it wasn’t some glamorized spanish name like “Luna” or “Sol”.
Did my farmer speak english? Spanish? Japanese? French? What race was he? Was he a colored man? Or was he a white man?
Did this man have a wife? a partner? a husband? Did he have friends? Did I ever meet these possible companions of his?
I wonder if I had any companions, perhaps the barn was large enough to need two barn cats? I’d imagine there’d be an orange cat with a blue collar named something like “Sparky”. I’m sure this Sparky would be a hyper cat. We’d probably get along well.
Who even was the other cat involved with my kits? Not that it mattered, they’d never be allowed around my precious kittens anyways.
I wonder how my kits are now? They’re probably dead, I won't lie. I wonder if any of my kits had kittens? Did my bloodline continue? Is there a descendant of mine somewhere out there?
I wonder if this descendant of mine is also a barn cat? Or a street cat maybe? A softer house cat? Do they know how to hunt anymore? I hope this possible kin of mine still knows how to catch the swiftest of birds and the cleverest of mice.
I have so many questions one will never be able to answer for me. Questions only me, the old farmer, his dog, my kits and Sparky will ever know. Perhaps its better to keep it that way. To forever be left wondering on my life once was.
Even with that thought though, I still find myself longing to return to the old barn with the old fence. Wishing I can run up to the old farmer and rub my fur against his legs as he greets me with a warm smile and a gentle headrub.
I long to run alongside the herding dog as they work, hoping to cause a little bit of playful chaos.
I long to catch prey alongside Sparky, before taking the rest of the day to feed my kittens and teach them what I know.
Maybe spend some time with the livestock, just for a little bit.
But for now, i’ll rest in my human nest. I’ll eat my human food and attend my school classes. I’ll speak to my human friends and play my human video games.
I’ve accepted my humanity, i’ll admit. But that doesn’t change the ache in my heart as I long to touch the grass with my paws once more.
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Thanks for reading, I wrote this earlier as I was thinking of my past as this barn cat, the same questions that constantly repeat in my mind and so on.
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