One afternoon long ago I was walking down the street when I noticed a group of cats huddled together next to a sewer drain. It was a silly thought, but they seemed to be deeply involved in conversation. People are always anthropomorphising cats, so it was natural to attribute the complete disregard of my approach to something as human as an argument. As I got closer I was shocked when I thought I began to hear voices articulating words- American English at that- coming from the circle. I figured I would ask them to repeat the last bit so I would know for sure I was going crazy. When my mouth opened the only sound to escape was a weak “mew“. A tortie sitting facing the other direction turned to correct my pronunciation and point out that without the added stress on the end nobody would understand me. What struck me most was the voice. It was rich and dark and rolled from the throat like gravel poured over tar. I could assert that torties are supposed to be female. Without breaking eye contact the cat pointed that gender was an outdated way of viewing the world and that in the face of over population concerns, it would behoove humanity to embrace and celebrate other forms of sexuality rather than to continue viewing the end goal of sexual activity as procreation. All balance was lost. The center no longer held. The sidewalk rose to kiss my cheek and the last thing I remember seeing was a black cat feeding envelopes to the sewer grate and giggling.