The cats of the Third World are sometimes missing teeth and eyes, screeching and hissing under the weight of cockeyed limbs in the dark, to no one.
The cats of the Third World dine on refuse and toss. They eat apples, sip Fanta, and slap their teeth on discarded cigarettes.
The cats of the Third World are rude kissers. They creep up from behind on arched haunches, redefining the pounce of foreplay.
The cats of the Third World are pregnant or impregnating. There are no human rights campaigns or petitions safeguarding prevention, abortion, or even suffrage.
The cats of the Third World create parlor games and all-you-can-eat seaside buffets. They don’t pay for tanning sessions and never tip.
The cats of the Third World don’t wear bras or garters or silk scarves. Breasts hang loose and low. They cup their balls in their paws to show that they mean business.
The cats of the Third World have no virtual following or slapdash LOL .jpegs. They are more likely to be photographed near old cans of white beans and broccoli heads than near a douce First hand.