These bright-eyed purveyors of contemporary oddities regaled tales from a Sydney satellite city’s school, a veritable hotbed of furry fandom. I’d heard whispers of this subculture—apparently false reports of cat litter being offered up in schools—but the depth and fervour of this phenomenon had previously eluded my grasp.

So, what in the Dickensian landscape of modern subcultures are “furries”?

The term defies a neat, one-size-fits-all definition. But if one were to ask Kathleen Gerbasi—a scholar armed with a Ph.D. in Social Psychology from the University of Rochester in New York—a “furry” is an individual who finds themselves spiritually aligned with, or even adopting the traits of, a specific animal species.

Ms. Gerbasi isn’t a mere casual observer in the furry fray; she was the pioneering mind behind a 2008 scholarly paper that delved into the intricacies of “fursonas.”

This revelation at the dinner table, nestled between the gravy boat and the cranberry sauce, left me bewildered and bemused, with a forkful of potato suspended in mid-air as I pondered the depths of human identity and expression.

As I ventured further into this festive feast of absurdity, my youthful informants—let’s affectionately label them Hannah, Olivia, and Izzy—served up a narrative far more peculiar than the conventional understanding of “furries.”

In their academic jungle, a peculiar breed flourished: students who, in the early wilderness of years 7 to 9, donned their furry personas with the fervour of a Shakespearean actor in a sold-out show.

But, as the curtain fell on Year 9, these fur-clad thespians seemed to vanish into thin air.

Had they retreated to more domestic pursuits, like purring on the laps of doting mothers or honing their mousing skills?

The trio couldn’t say.

Dedication to Stay in Character

The truly baffling aspect, as relayed by my earnest narrators, was the unwavering commitment these furries had to their roles.

Not once did they break character within the hallowed halls of school.

Speech was forsaken for meows and barks; answers to teachers’ questions were met with stoic silence. These furry aficionados, eschewing the drab garb of school uniforms, adorned themselves with sewn-on tails and headbands crowned with furry ears.

Hannah recounted a tale that bordered on the Kafkaesque: a non-furry lad from Year 9 dared to bark at a furry and found himself chastised by the teacher, who sternly reminded him to respect the feline identity of the student.

“The teachers just let them do their thing,” Olivia chimed in, while Izzy added that this furry phenomenon was not exclusive to their school, although was conspicuously absent from the city’s private education where the girls were now enrolled.

Izzy shared a surreal episode about a girl who, perched atop a tree during lunch, refused to descend until the principal’s arrival. Upon alighting, she flapped her arms bird-like, then barked—a furry identity crisis if ever there was one.

According to this teenage trio, the furry hierarchy at their school was dominated by cats, dogs, and, intriguingly, lorikeets.

As I digested this feast of the bizarre, alongside my impeccably baked potato, I found myself marvelling at the ever-evolving teenage expression, a world where the lines between human and animal, reality and fantasy, were not just blurred, but enthusiastically erased.

It’s Everywhere

This furry frenzy isn’t just an Aussie fad. It’s a global epidemic, spreading faster than a kangaroo on a hot tin roof.

It started in the United States but now even the Brits are hopping on the bandwagon.

The Sun splashed across its pages that the UK’s “Safer Schools” group was telling teachers and parents to keep their eyes peeled for kids prancing about as furries.

The advice? Don’t mock or make a fuss.

Easy for them to say—they don’t have a kid in a cat costume purring on their dining table!

Meanwhile, in Wollongong, another satellite city outside Sydney, a state school has become a veritable zoo.

As reported in the Herald Sun, kids are crawling on tables, meowing in packs, and grooming each other like it’s a feline beauty parlour.

Over in the world of social platform X, UAP Senator Ralph Babet has been sounding the alarm. He reckons this is what happens when the “radical left” runs amok, unchecked, and untamed.

He wrote, “Can we just put a stop to this garbage right now? You go to school to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic.”

Then there’s Michael Carr-Greg, a child psychologist who’s seen it all, except, apparently, an abundance of these fur-clad youngsters.

As reported in the Herald Sun, he says it’s a rare spectacle. These furry fellows, he observes, are leading pretty normal lives, apart from the occasional meow.

The big question, he muses, is whether this is a passing cloud or a full-blown storm of mental illness.

The jury’s still out, but Mr. Carr-Greg’s got his eye on the impact on the trifecta of life: friendships, school, and family. If these get muddled up by the furry business, then, and only then, does he start to worry.

Bridging this concern with the broader cultural spectacle, it’s evident that while experts like Mr. Carr-Greg ponder the psychological ramifications, the wider world is grappling with its own perceptions and reactions.

As the fur flies in this increasingly barmy debate, one thing’s clear: in the world of fursonas, it’s a jungle out there, and everyone’s just trying to find their way—on foot, paw, or claws.

Views expressed in this article are opinions of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Epoch Times.

Enter the unapologetic connoisseur of contradictions, the embodiment of the unexpected, the aficionado of electric eccentricities, and a character worthy of exploration.

Here are 18 reasons why you really need an electric car:

1. You’re a Tolstoy enthusiast who’s never quite conquered the monumental War and Peace. Fear not, for that long charging queue becomes your literary sanctuary where you can immerse yourself in 1,225 pages of Russian opulence while your electric steed gains its much-needed energy boost.

2. Fine dining at Chiswick, Margaret, and Quay is a given, but have you truly lived until you’ve sampled the delights of the local servo? Post-War and Peace, dive into the exquisite world of slurpees, gristly meat pies, and try-hard coffee at the gas station. Breakfast and lunch might just be a charging queue away. YOLO.

3. Forget Bill Gates and his private jets; your guilty pleasure is the toasty warmth of a winterized garage. Electric cars, much like their owners, detest the cold. Embrace the synergy by parking your electric chariot in a heated garage—a warm welcome indeed.

4. Having dabbled in the vaccine, insect, and windfarm markets, your financial portfolio is diverse, and now you’re eyeing a substantial tax break. The depreciation of your EV will outpace its traditional counterparts so why not amass a fleet to elegantly trim that hefty annual tax bill?

5. Hitchhiking adventures or solitary contemplation on a deserted country road, anyone? Electric cars need to charge frequently. So if you’re going on a long journey, there’s a chance you may not make it to the next EV charging station. This is where War and Peace also comes in handy.

6. Virtue signaling ascends to new heights as the Tesla logo joins forces with needles and any flag that isn’t your own country. The EV isn’t just a mode of transport; it’s your declaration of values to the world.

7. You have a longing for Victorian times and it’s not just the taxidermy and corsets. Children learned the value of money in those times. Maybe sending them down a coal mine wasn’t ideal but better than being stuck up a chimney and having someone light a fire. Child slave labor is alive and well today in Africa where children are used to mine cobalt by hand in order to produce the 60 pounds of cobalt needed for one EV battery.

8. Unveil your inner Victorian Goth with a penchant for blackouts, cold baths and for the truly avant-garde, cockroach milk. Electric cars may shine but the allure of darkness prevails in this world of renewables.

9. Coal mining is so pre-COVID. No, it’s lithium, cobalt, graphite, and aluminum all the way. A single EV battery needs 30 pounds of lithium, 60 pounds of cobalt, 130 pounds of graphite, and roughly 500 pounds of steel aluminum, manganese, plastic and other materials. Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy.

10. You’ve always wanted to live in a permanent Disneyland—believing that electric cars have zero emissions. California awaits.

11. Are you concerned about pollution emissions in first-world countries?
Just shift the burden to the third world where toxic substances required for EV batteries become an unavoidable reality.

12. Anything a diesel Mercedes C220 D can do your Tesla Model 3 can do better e.g. emit 11 to 28 percent more CO2 over the lifespan of the Mercedes.

13. You’re a great delegator and will happily delegate power regarding your movements to the government. Of course, they should be allowed to turn your car off at any time because SCIENCE.

14. Do you live in an inner city Teal electorate where electricity prices skyrocketing become inconsequential? Teal and Tesla go hand in hand. That $5,000 power bill is a small price to pay for coolness. And the seventh needle in your profile seals the deal for the ultimate in virtue signaling nonchalance.

15. MI5 dreams come true with a tracking device worthy of James Bond. And the cherry on top? Celebrating the gender and potential trans identity of 007 while cruising in your Tesla.

16. Do you have a soft spot for China? You can acknowledge their prowess in lithium processing 40 percent of the world’s raw lithium and dominating the market with an 80 percent share.

17. For you the intricacies of how the EV charges and the origin of coal-fired electricity remain a mystery. It’s battery-operated and that’s all that matters.

18. And then there are those with aerostatiophobia, an affliction not to be taken lightly. The genuine fear of gas stations, it seems is a reality. While it’s unfortunate to miss out on the gourmet treats these stations offer, the silver lining of a battery-operated car is the blissful avoidance of gas station visits altogether.

After all, who needs to confront their fears when the hum of an electric charge is music to your tax-saving ears?