“It's discrimination!"
“Hey, sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to either keep it down or leave, you're disturbing people." The capybara approached like an iceberg, quiet and smooth.
“Oh, you don't care about my rights?!" The doberman turned to glare at him through the sensory melee of loud music, colorful lights, and not-so-tastefully provocative wall art.
“I care about the rights of the patrons of this bar. Like the right to not have to listen to an hour of some dog ranting."
“There, you see how it is?!" the doberman whirled back to gesture at the guinea pig behind the bar, “Just cause I won't think in lockstep, I suddenly don't count as a patron or a part of this community?"
“Sir-"
“Doesn't that front door say “All Queer Folx Welcome?" Doesn't All mean All?"
“Sir-"
“I could make things very hard for a place that kicked me out just for speaking my mind, you know!"
The capybara spread baffled paws. “Do you not hear yourself, man?"
“I am just saying! I've faced the exact fuckin same homophobia," the dog thudded his fist on the bar, “as everyone else here! What changes about that cause of the uniform I wear to work? It's unfair!"
“Ok, howabout this." The capybara decided it was time to deescalate. “I'll buy you a drink, and then we step outside and you can explain it all to me, ok? You still get to speak your mind, these folks get to relax and enjoy their evening, and I get to do my job. Everyone gets what they want."
“I don't need some beaver to patronize me!"
“Capybara. And I'm the bouncer."
“Whatever!"
“Look," the bouncer's voice cooled, “you wanna try to change my mind, here's your chance."
The doberman was still sober enough to perceive the subtextual ultimatum. “...fuck it, sure."
“Thank you, sir! Dylan, give this pup one more, on my tab, and then let Diego know to cover the front door for me? Thanks."

“So you're a cop, huh?" The capybara stopped when they reached the corner.
“How'd you know?"
“You weren't being exactly subtle in there. You're mad over the parade saying cops in uniforms aren't welcome." It was a very different world out in the alley: sulfur colored monochrome of just-lit streetlights rather than pride-colored LEDs and antique disco ball, graffiti and No Parking sign instead of pornographically encouraging wall art, the dull roar of distant highway underpass instead of pounding bass. “And clearly you CAN dress casual," the capybara waved a paw at the dog, “when you want to, so make it make sense for me."
“You're damn right I'm mad!" The doberman was either very expressive with his hands, when he talked, or he'd had more than a few. “You understand how much resistance I faced from the department?" Or both. “How hard I had to stand up for who I was, so that the other men and women on the force could be out and not lose their badges? Don't I get to be proud of that?"
“I mean, maybe. That's not what this is about though."
“Ugh, well make it make sense then! This oughta be a good one…"
“I'm gonna assume that you've heard the phrase “ACAB," that you know what it stands for?"
“Uh, yeah, it stands for hate and prejudice that-"
The capybara pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ok, one sec. We gotta get something clarified before we go any further. Are you actually interested in understanding, or do you just expect everyone to shut up and nod at anything you have to say without speaking up themselves?"
“That's not-"
“Cause if it's the latter, you're gonna be looking at a lifetime ban."
“Hey-!"
“And not just from my place, I'll be talking to every bar, dance club, bathhouse, spa, brunch spot, even the comic book store over by the park, have you put on the 'Do Not Admit' list." The bouncer's arms were crossed, his face stony, his eyes hard as steel. “Even the ones I'm not on speaking terms with."
“How is not prejudice when you say things like that?" the dog whined.
“That's what I'm explaining. But," the capybara held up a single finger, inches from the dog's snout, “you gotta not interrupt while I do that, or else I'm gonna have to conclude you aren't interested in the answer."
“...fine, whatever."
“I'm holding you to that!"
“I said fine!"
“Alright." The capybara let his shoulders unclench, just a little. “When we say 'All Cops Are Bastards' it's not about what you feel inside, or who you are as a person. Not about YOU at all. It's about a system—being a cop—that's a threat to the community, has been for longer than you and I've been alive."
“Uh…"
“Hold the questions for now, ok?"
“...fine."
“Please tell me you know Stonewall."
“Of fucking course," the dog rolled his eyes, “I got pictures of me and my last boyfriend at the Stonewall inn!"
“Alright" The bouncer leaned his shoulders back against the cool bricks, “then I'd hope you're aware it was riot provoked by cops raiding and shutting down a gay bar. The whole reason Pride is when it is."
“Well, shouldn't-"
“Hold it! You'll get your chance to talk back, but that's strike one!"
“...dammit." The doberman growled through clenched teeth.
“See, I'm betting you were about to say, 'but that was half a century ago, things have changed.'" The dog neither confirmed nor denied this claim. “And maybe they have. But maybe not enough. I'm gonna be tactful here, and not ask where you were summer of 2020, but I can tell you where I was. I was getting tear gassed, three'n a half blocks from here, by whoever you hang out in the break room with, for exercising my constitutional right to peaceful protest. I watched your colleagues beat and arrest…" he bit back a name, “my friends and family for protesting, when not one of em broke a law. And most of the people in the bar tonight'll say the same."
“That was all non-lethal ordinance-"
“Not," the bouncer clenched his jaw against the memory of a lemur, just a kid, really, who'd nearly lost an eye, “when you fire em at people's heads."
“That'd been declared an unlawful assembly-"
“The cops can't do that, that's what the word 'inalienable' in the fuckin constitution means, and that's strike two!" The bouncer's voice was starting to pick up a note of incredulity, as if he couldn't believe this needed explanation. “One more interruption and I'm spending tonight emailing all those other bars I promised!"
“Right, sorry." Either the cool barely-night air or the entrance line, across the other end of the alley—a handful of muzzles and beaks trying to pretend they weren't watching—was sobering the doberman up very quickly.
“Hasn't even been a month, since you all raided a bunch of bars!" No elaboration was necessary on who 'you all' was. “The exact same shit as Stonewall, dragged people out, gave em tickets for 'Lewd Conduct,' threatened liquor licenses over behavior that's perfectly legal when straight folks do it in straight bars, that'd be completely legal out on the street, but only suddenly somehow becomes illegal when you enter a gay bar!"
“I wasn't there, ok? That wasn't me!"
“Well I was, and I saw the uniform you're demanding to wear there too! That's what you're not getting, that's what the 'Uni' in uniform means. You put on that uniform, you're putting on responsibility for what that uniform gets used to do! That's why 'All Cops' means 'All!"
The police dog opened his mouth, shut it again, several times, but never seemed to find something he wanted to say.
“What's with that look?"
“Are we at the part where I get to talk yet?"
“Ok sure, fine." The capybara crossed his arms over the word SECURITY on his t-shirt. “What've you got?"
“Alright." the dog flexed his neck as if he were about to fight for his life. “Never mind it's not fair to judge me for what any other cop in all of history did… but like, what about marriage equality? What about hate crime laws?"
“What about em?"
“Well who's gonna enforce them? When some bigot shows up rolling coal in a trumped-out pickup with a shotgun and starts shouting slurs at the parade, who's gonna arrest him? You just gonna explain institutional violence at him?"
The capybara looked distinctly unimpressed.
“Side-eye it all you want, but if you want legal recognition, if you want equality in society, at some point you gotta admit that the police are on the side you want to be on! I took an oath to protect and serve all the citizens, and maybe some cops aren't living up to that, but I take it seriously!" And it was possible there was a trace of sincerity in the doberman's voice, buried like a seam of ore under a mountain, leaking out into the stream with the spring thaw. “All means all!"
“Ok, two things." The capybara sighed through his nose. “First, those trumped-out bigots with the trucks and shotguns. How many of your fellow officers does that describe? How many of them go home to that guy as their brother, their father, their husband? How many'd look the other way, when that guy showed up, would say: well, he's got his right to free speech, there's no law against that. You say you've faced pushback from your department, so I know you know who that pushback was from. If they were willing to do that to someone wearing their uniform, how've they been treating those of us who don't? How're us regular folks supposed to tell the difference between them and you?"
The dog had no answer for this.
“Second," but the capybara seemed not to require one, “yeah, maybe the police ought to be on the side of our legal rights. But they haven't been, and they aren't yet, and they don't get to be treated like they're protecting us until they actually start protecting us!"
“We've been-"
“Do I gotta go over the tear gas and the raids again?"
“Look, I'm not trying to…" the doberman's paws were tracing circles in the air, as if he were trying to tread water, “excuse anything, I just think that like… if we're ever gonna get to a world without homophobia, at some point that'll have to mean we're all—police and queer community—ok with a policeman being gay!"
“You know what, that's true enough."
“Thank you!"
“But now isn't that time."
“But-"
“For five seconds, just think about this from the perspective of anyone but you!" For the first time the capybara raised his voice. “Somebody who just wants to go to Pride, enjoy themselves," it echoed down the alley, as if it were the alley, not a mortal mouth, that was speaking, “but they remember the tear gas, they heard about the raids, they know what Stonewall was about. And they see you come around the corner in uniform." As if it were the street, the neighborhood, itself that spoke.
“Yeah, so?" The doberman's voice was much smaller than he'd intended.
“So they don't know you. They don't know you're gay. They don't know you're here to participate. All they know about you is that you're in the uniform people put on when it's time to take away their rights. Are they gonna feel safe?"
“I mean, is that my fault?"
“Yeah!" the capybara bellowed, “Cause all you're being asked is not to wear that uniform! Wear a thong, wear a harness, wear full drag, wear the most boring polo shirt and cargo shorts you own, and we don't got a problem!"
The dog fought the urge to glance down at the polo shirt and cargo shorts he was wearing.
“But you said it," the capybara continued, “beginning of this argument: pride's for all of us. All means all, even the ones who've got every damn reason in the world to not feel safe if there's a cop there."
“I'm not trying," the dog felt like he was negotiating, now, “to make anyone feel unsafe."
“Then you're gonna have to choose, pup. You can't be half with us and the other half against us. You can't be one of us in June and then against us the rest of the year. You're either all one thing or all the other but whichever you choose, all means all."
The doberman raised a submissive paw. “Fine, ok, whatever you want, just-"
“Nope, not here." The capybara cut him off.
“I'm trying to agree with you, you stubborn-"
“But you're drunk, and tired, and backed into a corner." The capybara listed each symptom on a claw. “You go home and think this through. You make your choice, and you make it sober. And then you message me what you chose so I know whether or not I gotta send those emails."
The doberman blinked at the slip of paper he'd been handed. “Wait, this is your number…"
“What? You're not bad looking. IF you make the right choice tomorrow that is. Which, IF you do… you might need some support from the people you just chose, against the ones you didn't. Like you said, you've faced discrimination from them before."
“I… dunno what to say."
“Don't say anything," there was just a trace of the alley-wide rumble in the capybara's voice, “till you go home and sober up."
“Ok, but…" the dog fumbled for words, but “why?" was all he could find.
The capybara could, perhaps, have given plenty of reasons: Because until you choose not to be, you're still one of us, even if you didn't know what that meant. Because even if the main reason is to keep you from turning out to be another fuckin bootlicker who kicks the ladder down behind you, keep you from hurting anyone, that doesn't mean you shouldn't get a chance to do better, once you realize you need to. Because he had a thing for dogs and the things a dog could do with his tongue, and it sounds like you're single-ish, and he was bar security not a saint. Because it wouldn't be fair not to give you the lifeline somebody once gave me. But all he said was, “All means all. I'm not cutting anybody off unless I'm sure I need to."
“I… I still dunno what to say."
“Howabout 'Happy Pride?"
“Alright…" the doberman sounded, as he turned to go, as if he'd been told the answer to a riddle but didn't yet understand why it was the answer. “Happy Pride."
“Happy pride, pup." And the bouncer went back to his other work.