What it is to be “furry” – at least back in 1995 (according to a poem by Croc O’Dile)


If the true meaning of furry you wish to understand You must think in terms of paw and not hand You must release your mentality from society’s
cage For furry prefurs no race, sex, persuasion
or age You must sort through the hype and the exploitation Because to be furry needs no justification It is to reach out and embrace the unknown To be surrounded by friends and yet still be alone It is not a gimmick or a political movement It’s nothing so pretentious as a method of improvement It’s only to seek solace in the presence of friends For when one is furry, the search never ends It is sometimes to be controlled by one’s
emotions It is to often be unsure of depths of devotion It is the sweet pain of impossible dreams It is never quite as close or as far as it
seems It is feelings being known without words being
spoken It is the inevitable occasional heart being
broken It is the type of love that now seems cliche It’s experience gained from having learned the hard way It’s a smurgle, a fuzzle, a rumble or purr It’s scales and whiskers and tails and fur It’s what we are, not outside but within It’s the binding force that makes us all kin It’s a howl in greeting to friends held dear It’s a bristling growl when confronted by fear It’s a friendly lick or scritch to show that we care It’s a deep understanding, a compassion that’s rare If what it is to be furry you still don’t
comprehend Then consider this advice, my curious friend If you’re willing to respect that which you don’t understand Then come take my paw and I’ll take your hand.

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