Taking a step into Meow Wolf plunges visitors into a unique, immersive artistic experience where adults and children play and explore. Walk into a house, meander into the kitchen, open the refrigerator, and step inside. Meow Wolf is the ultimate found object art project, but it’s also a portal into another world, one of strange imaginings.
My friends and I spent several hours climbing, crawling, and walking from space to space in the original Meow Wolf in Santa Fe June 10.
This museum/playground/vortex bowling alley conversion morphed into metaphor when my husband informed me he suspects our new kitty Phoebe, whom you may have met during the March SOL challenge, is not a *she-be* but a *he-be*. That pronouncement reminded me of the scene in I Remember Mama when Dagmar learns her stray cat Elizabeth is a male after one of her siblings says, “I looked.” The father suggests calling the tomcat Uncle Elizabeth. We have not changed Phoebe’s name now that we’ve confirmed its gender during what we thought would be a spaying that turned into a neutering.
I suppose pot luck cat is what one gets when answering an adoption call via the neighborhood Facebook group. I’m struggling with this gender reveal because I’ve never really liked tomcats. Phoebe is my first male kitty, and he’s not the friendliest feline.
We’ve already changed Phoebe’s name from Missy and I worry a new moniker will confuse the cat. Johnny Cash sang about a boy named Sue, so I’m confident a tomcat can be a Phoebe. For now I’m framing Phoebe’s lived reality as a transition.
My cat is transitioning.
More accurately, my tomcat’s humans are transitioning. This is what feline gender fluidity looks like, even if the cat has no clue about whether it’s a he-be or she-be or it-be.
We’ve stepped through the vortex into the portal. Whatever–will be.