07/31/2023
Those of you that have spent more than 20 minutes talking to me know that I didn’t grow up with pets—at least the fuzzy kind that you can pet and snuggle with.
My mom told us that pets were dirty and she didn’t want them in the house…or outside the house. Now that I’m older, I realize that the REAL reason was that she worked so hard everyday that the thought of having to clean up after pets was the least appealing thing to her (because she knew younger me realistically would not be doing the boring things like picking up p**p, etc). Smart lady. So, to appease me, she let me have some goldfish.
Later on, like when I was an adult already, my dad brought home a cat that started out as an indoor cat and after one too many scratches on the arm rest of the couches, into the rugs, and on our legs, he became an outdoor cat.
And honestly, Kirk really lived his best life outside, wandering around the neighborhood in the hours between meal times, checking up on his kitty friends down the block, catching mice as gifts to us, and rolling around in the dirt.
Though I didn’t have a ton of interaction with him, the one thing I really remembered was the canned cat food. I remember popping the tab, the tin curling us as you pulled, the smell immediately assaulting your nostrils and all that meat (?) packed tightly in the can, with a cozy gelatinous layer over it. He loved it and in the end, that’s all that mattered, I guess.
I made this piece for curated by the talented showing at between 8/19-9/30. You aren’t going to want to miss this show!
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