Let the cats write, dammit
By Sasha Franklin, Cat Enthusiast
Dear the Other Press,
I have read your paper for many years, before it was cool—way before it was cool. There have been a few things that have bothered me about your paper, such as the size (too small) and the frequency (too often, yet sometimes not often enough), but the one thing that really, really bothers me is your lack of diversity in regard to writers. In the many, many issues I have read, or pretended to read to impress bus passengers, I have never seen any cats. Not cat photos or cat articles—I’m talking cat authors. Cat journalists. Purrnalists, if you will.
I’m astounded at the lack of fuzzy, four-pawed, slinky journalists that demand to go inside and then outside again.
I’m sure it’s not from lack of applications either. I know that your newspaper has received at least 10 story submissions from cats. I know because I submitted them myself.
It’s not the cats’ fault that they can’t formulate their thoughts in an understandable language, let alone put those thoughts to paper, let alone have enough guts to send the damn thing and experience the fear of rejection. When people need help doing things, we help them. What about cats? Left alone, they’ll die without our help. If we don’t help the cats with their writing careers they will simply die unfulfilled artists.
Is it because cats meow at you? Or because you think all they need is food, water, and petting? Well, perhaps that’s what the “man” told you when they gave you your old cat Whiskers, but this is the real world with real cats. We’re just scratching the surface here.
I ask that your paper finally gives cats a chance in the journalism world. I’m sure if you actually read their articles you would learn some important things, like how dry food isn’t as good as wet food and how things at low angles are kind of interesting. All you would need to do is read past the thousands of misplaced “meows” and you’d have something everyone wants to read: Raw, real journalism.
My cat Mittens is here right now, talking to me about how the Russians are going to invade Canada in the year 2084. He wants to write about it—I know he does—and surely someone would want to read about the extremely accurate predictions of our future. In this crazy world, should we really reject writers just because they are cats? My 32 cats and I say no, and we ask you to leave the door open so we can go back and forth as we please.