It’s 1995, i’m 13 years old. My parents started breeding cats. Birmans. Seal point Birmans, to be precise. I would wake and be surrounded by cats and all the cat life entailed. Kitten cats, male cats, female cats. Cat cage, cat shows, cat breeding. Always the breeding, the eternal lifecycle of the cat burned into my retines. The yowling, the prowling, the fucking.

It’s 2010, i’m 28 years old. I hung out with some Furries in Hamilton. Charming folk. I really liked them. Loved Disney movies. Loved My Little Pony. They got turned on by putting on dog suits, cat suits, fox suits. Adults – All yowling, prowling and fucking.

I’m 37 now, I’ve just seen Cats the movie. I’ve never seen the stage show, but i know the songs. I get the gist. Big songs, big numbers. This film is something else. I am 13 again, I am 25 again. I’m at parent’s house, hearing cats fuck. I’m watching a Furry put on a catsuit. I’m watching Idris Elba, nude, as a cat, his ass is sticking out. I am watching all the cats, legs constantly spread, gyrating, grinding, growling. Yowling, prowling, fucking.

This is the worst i’ve ever seen. This is what death feels like. This is a ketamine trip. This is awful. This is not a film, this is chaos. This is the CGI from Scorpion King. I don’t know if i’m five minutes in or five hours. Nothing matters anymore. This is the death of all things. Fuck it.