I’m A Furry: Is Breastfeeding My Baby Still Vegan?
Being ethical can be tricky. On the one hand, I think consuming any product (including milk) made from the labor or bodies of animals is immoral. And on the other hoof, part of my lifestyle is dressing up as my fursona, a pink cow named “Moonica.” And therein lies the rub: can I breastfeed my baby and still be vegan?
In order to find a solution to this dilemma I think it is necessary to consult the philosophers of old. Let’s start with Plato. But before we begin our analysis, I think it’s important that you first learn my fursona, so I have attached an artistic visual aid that I drew myself:
(My own art)
Plato states that poetry is an irrational act inspired by the muses. Does it then follow that breastfeeding my baby while living as Moonica is an irrational vegan act, and thus is poetry? Is Moonica my moose, and I but the humble recorder of the poetic truths that flow from her, like milk from a bovine’s undulus teats?
Or shall I follow the teachings of Descartes who famously posited, “cogito ergo sum,” or, “I think therefore I am.” Can one reasonably infer from this “mugio ergo sum”: I moo therefore I am? If I think of myself as a cow, then I am a cow; Q.E.D., my baby is committing an anti-vegan act by breastfeeding. Are the sins of the baby the sins of the mother? Can both a carnivore and cow exist within the same mortal vessel?
There is also Thomas Hobbes, whose book Leviathan laid out the concept of the social contract. This tenant of moral philosophy legitimizes the validity of the state, postulating that an individual may consent to abdicate some of her freedoms in return for benefits offered by society. Couldn’t then my cow fursona consent to allow the baby to breastfeed? Or is Moonica still a slave of the socio-economic-bio-industrial prison, where the choice to engage in a social contract is an illusion?
Hang on, I’d like to introduce you to my fursona… yes, the transformation is—
Howdy y’all! My names Moonica! I’m a sassy pink cow who’s an udder delight! My likes are organic hay, oats, and defecating in an open field. Moo! My dislikes are cattle rustlers and farmer John milkin’ me in the mornings—his hands are so cold! Moo! I’m a lean, mean, grass-eatin’ Holstein machine. I’m a divine bovine with four ruminatin’ stomachs. Moo! Moo! If you’re lookin’ for a good time I can steer you in the right direction. I kid, I kid, I’m happily moo-ried. Well it’s about time for me to go, if you need me I’ll be outstanding in my field.
Hi again, everybody! Why is there hay in my mouth? Anyways, where were we? Jeremy Bentham? Ayn Rand?
Well, unfortunately I must end this philosophical journey without a satisfying conclusion: the baby is crying and I need to shut her up with a juice box. Then mommy needs to nurse her headache with a wine cooler and some alfalfa.