Furry!!

I can hear you asking already, “What the fuck is a Furry?”

OK, I freely admit that the reader is going to need a bit of an introduction to the concept of “What is a Furry?”. There is also the need to understand how these stories came about, and why they are written the way they are.

Me? Yeah, I’m a Furry

I’m a Furry. Even my nickname is “Furry”. What am I? I’d like to think that I’m a “normal” bloke (Aussie male at least). You know the type, and I refuse to believe that we (Furrys) only live in Australia.

I believe we can be found worldwide. You know the type of bloke I’m talking about. You see us around BBQ’s in summer. T-shirts, shorts, thongs, a stubby, (small bottle) of beer. We love cooking dead meat over a fire; we love poking it with a stick while it cooks.

Furrys? Come on, you know us! We’re the ones laughing loudly, telling a yarn (story), hands in the air, exaggerated movements, laughing & joking. We hang shit on (tease) our mates (friends).

We are the type of blokes that when you pull their finger, we fart, and we always find this hysterical. We’re the sorts of blokes’ kids flock to, they listen eagerly to our stories. They embrace our humour.

We’re the keepers of “history” and the storytellers of the tribe. We’re the blokes you find kicking a footy (football) or throwing a ball, out in the front yard with the kids. We are the ones who fake a huge tackle on a little “bloke” (kid/child), and when he evades us, goals, scores or touches down, we "play it up" & cry out in mock shock or horror.

We, Furry’s, are the sorts of blokes that the upper crust looks down on. We hear them saying, “They’re rough & crass, they’re loud and uncouth, they’re not well spoken or educated, they’re “beneath us”.”

We really don’t give a fuck, we’re the ones they call so they don’t dirty their hands, or break a nail, or when the shit hits the fan. We don’t really care what they think, we have a “warrior mentality” and we see them as below us. Actually, there isn’t many people who’s view really means much to us.

What do Furry’s do for a job? All sorts of things really. We are Tradies, (Plumbers, Builders, Electricians). We are Coppers, Ambos, Fireys (Police, Ambulance or Fire Fighters). We are Grunts, (in the Armed Forces, Army, Navy, Air force). We are Miners.

We can also be graceful enough to hold down “a Highly Professional” career. We may act dumb, be warned, it’s a cover. We hide lots of things behind our big, simple, even gruff exteriors.

Furry’s like all forms of racing, “The Nags” or “Hayburners” (horses), “The Dogs” (Greyhounds), Cars (Formula Ones, V8’s, Rally, whatever), “Bikes” (Motorbikes, Formula One, Super bikes, Motocross, again whatever). We love cricket or football, or soccer, or gridiron, or baseball. We love contact sports. We like hockey, we like almost any sport imaginable.

The only two sports thing we want to change is Synchronised Swimming & Skeet Shooting.

We’d like shark fishing introduced to the sporting arena, run in conjunction with Synchronised Swimming.

Even better, Skeet shooting & Wavewasting (Jet Skiing).

If I close my eyes, I can imagine it now, the “WHA WHA WHA” of the Wavewaster bouncing over waves & “PULL” BOOM!!! of the shooter.

Ahhhhh to dream, one less fuckwit I’ve gotta share the bay with.

Anyway back to it, my wife tells me that being a Furry isn’t just about wearing a mohair singlet, (ample body hair), it’s a complete package. She reckons Furry’s have a touch of the “ever so’s” about them. You know, “ever so naughty, or dangerous, or even, ever so dirty”.

She reckons that we walk with confidence & ease. That our presence can be intimidating, (due to body shape, confidence, stance, posture). She reckons that you can see a Furry is confident in his skin. That they have accepted who they are, where they’ve been and their lot in life.

I don’t see it myself. I think we are just “Blokes”. I see us as what a bloke is meant to be. We are the hunter/gatherers of a tribe. We wouldn't think anything about grabbing a club, racing up behind a Dinosaur, and giving the bastard a fair smack to the back of the head, repeatedly if need be.

Again, we aren’t stupid, after a couple of decent smacks to the head, if Dino the Dinosaur hasn’t fallen down pissing blood from his ears, we are smart enough to know he’s about to turn around and get really pissy at us.

We then evoke option two, run, & run fast.

We love a joke, a laugh, time spent with our loved ones. We are passionate with what we do, who we are & who we can be. We Furry’s are re-known for leaving our mark. We’ve left them on the world (in the form of craters, or huge impact scrapes).

Our interaction to people is about as “poles apart “ as you can get. Those we love, we are full on & protective. Hugs, huge hugs are given out. What my kids used to call “pop ya head off cuddles”. You know the ones, huge squeezy cuddles full of love.

With those we aren’t so fond of, grazes & bruises are often the marks we leave behind. We don’t suffer fools well, and we certainly don’t stand idlely by if one of our loved ones is in strife.

But for the most of it, I like to think, we leave marks on people or the world that are unique, and positive.