Painting Outside the Litter Box: A Cat’s Guide to Allyship

It was an ordinary summer morning at the Cats of Kochi residence. Birds chirping, a fellow feline playing ball, vehicles passing by, leaves swaying. I was up at seven to remind the hooman he was ten seconds too late to serve me breakfast. Twenty. Thirty. One whole minute! One minute, twenty seconds. There it was—finally!

I often wonder how I put up with human unpawfessionalism—I, aka Ginger (previously known historical correspondent and skeptic-in-residence at Cats of Kochi)—but then again, they are kinda cute sometimes.

Take my hooman, for example... glued to a laptop screen, staring at random charts and words and things. I'm practically his only reminder to take litter breaks or go outside. Aww!

I assume his empty stares are silent calls for help. So I fashionably stepped onto the keyboard and seated myself. Oxytocin break for the human and—oh wait—my paws had pulled up a poster. It was for some mural a bunch of queer folk were painting that day at Poovath Street. I knew what I was gonna do that day.

You see, gentle reader, I am an ally—and as such, I treat my role with utmost seriousness. When my brother Bandit came out to me as asexual, I immediately did my research on all things queer. I loved him. I wanted to make sure I was being a supportive friend. This seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to do so!

My hooman decided to tag along with me. When we got there, the first thing I noticed was a little park with playthings for the kids. Strutting a bit further, I saw it—gorgeous, colorful murals being painted in the brightest hues. I could hardly wait to get started.

They gave me a few touch-ups here and there to begin with. Dipping my brush into the brown paint, carefully mimicking the clean strokes of the beautiful artist guiding me—I felt like a kitten just learning to groom. What a magical thing, to think up something and pour it out for the world to see!

Once I was done with as many touchups as my heart desired, I felt ready for more. Mia, the artist behind the mural, asked me what I'd want to paint if I had the space. It only took me a second to think. "Bandit, my best friend!" I showed her his picture. She gave me a paws-up (duh, Bandit is beautiful!), and I got right on it.

I wanted to draw something that captured his goofy essence and give the ace community a proper shoutout at the same time.

Mia appreciated my art, and we got talking.

“I’m doing this as part of a project initiated by the Fearless Collective,” she said, as I slowly blinked at her—to make sure she knew of my allyship. “I got a fellowship with them, and that came with me painting my first mural earlier this year in Colombo… this would be my second. The point was for marginalized hoomans to reclaim their space.”

I felt even better about my idea to paint Bandit now. She talked about how, when you’re walking the streets at odd hours, seeing a portrait of someone who resembles you can make you feel like you belong—even when the world says otherwise. I looked at Bandit on the wall, right there among all the hooman portraits. Mia was right. I did feel like I belonged! Though, I must admit, her kindness had something to do with it too.

The rest of the volunteers were just as sweet. Some offered me their paws to sniff, and followed the sniff of acceptance with delicious scritches. One even offered me a treat. I politely accepted—after all, I’m not one to turn down a nice piece of fish after a full hour of hard work!

Hearing their stories, their struggles, their fight just to exist—I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of gratitude in my fur. It’s so much easier in the cat world. We don’t care much for labels. We love who we love—if we love (and hate most dogs). Gender isn’t really a thing, nor are most boxes... unless they’re cardboard. It’s a shame, really, that we haven’t managed to impart our feline wisdom to the hoomans. Maybe someday they’ll watch and learn.

Until then, I can help the ones that do know draw some more murals and take up their well-deserved space!

There’s a satisfaction in leaving a splash of color on a wall that once whispered silence. The only other time I got that was while making claw art on my hooman's bland furniture.

Poovath is just one among the many gorgeous, art-covered walls in Fort Kochi. I’m glad I got to leave my mark on it. For Bandit's sake, of course! And maybe a little for myself too. If a small cat with a big heart and impeccable balance can do his bit, maybe the world isn’t such a bad place.

Besides, who better than a feline to remind hoomans how to walk proud, nap often, and always claim the sunniest spot?

(Mia's IG handle for those wondering: @linesbyjose)