I Went To See CATS And Now I Think I Might Be A Furry.

By Nathanael Matos

So let me set the record straight: I'm not into the sex stuff. Okay, maybe I am a little. But who could blame me? Have you seen Taylor Swift's character in Cats? Don't you dare tell me that you didn't, even for a moment, think that you kinda sorta maybe wanted to fuck that cat.

What? Okay, maybe you don't swing that way, but it wasn't just Bombalurina that fur-baited me. I also really wanted Jason Derulo to Rum Tum Tug-me off. C'mon, it's not that weird. The movie was practically begging you to fantasize about Bustopher Jones-ing all over James Corden's pelt. There's no way it was just me. Right? I couldn't be the only one that wanted to give Idris Elba a Macavity search. I was just entranced watching those CGI human/cat hybrids dance, every moment hoping –– nay, begging ––to be able to bury my face into Dame Judi Dench's pussycat pussy, and maybe showing her my Ol' Dude-eronomy. And when Jennifer Hudson burst out her heartfelt rendition of “Memory,” all I could think of was taking her to my Heavy Side Lair to make some “memories” with her, and covering her with my jizz-abella after furry-iously yiffing.

Watching that movie made me feel things that I'd never felt before. I just couldn't help wanting to pour my milk all over Sir Ian McKellen's face as he lapped at it. Then, I would follow suit, dragging my tongue all over his –– oh, uh...

As I was saying, furries are people too, and please remember that a cat is not a dog. But I'd settle for one of those too.