I once had an argument with a Universalist. OK, it wasn't really an argument as much as it was me trying to stave off incredulity while listening to another man's profound stupidity. My objections were half-hearted.
His theology was so universal, God had a plan of salvation for all living things, right down to single-celled organisms. I admired him for his consistency. In this plan, mountain rescue dogs go to heaven for their good works. Carnivores and all instinctive fresh meat hunters must have token grace since God did not give them the analytical tools to understand the destructive and selfish zero-sum game by which they live. This, however, puts the greatest burden on humans, since we should know better.
I didn't want to tell him that nothing was going to make me feel guilty for enjoying every single bite of my 12-ounce T-bone.
We didn't have time to get his whole worldview down, but I imagine the path to heaven under this theology is a narrow one for all cats. Cats are evil by nature, right? I could be wrong, and perhaps I should make at least academic room for a growing phenomenon. My theology only allows a plan of salvation for humans, but I am fascinated by the emerging Felinism. Bucky from Get Fuzzy seems to have a good handle on it.
As far as I can tell, Bucky represents the moderate or classical Felinist point of view. This is in stark contrast to the radical Felinism we find in more progressive American communities. Classical Felinism even has a growing art community, as represented in this piece by Zac Robertson demonstrating the matriarchal order of the cat world.
I question the potential of a true proliferation of Felinism in the mainstream. Not only will most prospective converts find the hairball methodology difficult to swallow, there have been no emerging apologetics to explain away the fact that God spelled backwards is dog.