Earlier quoted context omitted.
There are more bacterial cells in your body than there are human cells. Where exactly do you draw the line between what constitutes "you."
A zoo is still a zoo if there aren't any animals in it, but it wouldn't stay in business very long. No matter how important the animals are to the long-term viability of the zoo, they are not the zoo. My gut bacteria may be vital to my survival, but they are not me. I don't find placing that line to be difficult at all.
Is it? Identity is an interesting thing. To use a commonly-cited example-- if I swap out the muffler of my car and toss the original in the backyard, I think most would say I am still driving the same car. If I do the same with the front left tire, it's still essentially my car. Even if replace all four tires, same. But what if I swap one part a day with a replacement, after a while I'll have all my original car parts in the backyard-- and am in effect driving a car made of totally new parts, but is this still the same car? If not, when would you no longer say it's the same car? And, if I assemble the collection of gradually discarded parts sitting in the back yard into another car-- now what? Which is my car? The thing I'm driving or the car made of the old parts? Or are they both the same car?
Am I really the same person I was when I was 10 ...or 10 months? What is the "me"-ness, or are we talking about a different person? Where's the line...
Or... when Captain Kirk uses the transporter-- his molecules are disintegrated, and then a copy of him gets assembled on some planet (using local materials I believe)... So is "he" transported, or is he being killed and replaced with an exact copy? (I think this question made its way to a Breaking Bad episode)
Anyhoo. Is a zoo without animals in it still a zoo? I dunno.