Connect with us

Lifestyle

L.A. Affairs: For years, I juggled co-parenting, dating and taking care of a family cat I didn’t like

Published

on

L.A. Affairs: For years, I juggled co-parenting, dating and taking care of a family cat I didn’t like

In the chaos of divorce and shared custody with my two little girls, my ex-husband got a cat, and I thought by promoting uniformity between the two homes, I should too. The problem was this: I didn’t want a cat. I didn’t particularly like cats. My ex did. Although my decision was fueled by single-parent shame, his decision was matter-of-fact.

For a decade, we were harried Los Angeles co-parents, entwined by conversations involving camp sign-ups, parent/teacher conferences, pediatrician appointments, dividing spring break weeks and the antidotes of two troublesome felines.

My ex’s cat, Champ, chronically peed on his couch and spent most of its daylight hours hiding under a chair. My cat, Seuss, behaved like a jailed convict, seeking any opportunity for escape from my apartment. I was continually scaling walls and dragging him, covered in engine grease, out from under a car in the morning after he slipped out the front door left ajar.

Each time he ran away, I prayed I wouldn’t have to return from my search-and-rescue efforts with a limp body to teach my girls about death. A very small voice in the back of my mind began to secretly hope he’d never return. Across town in Culver City, my ex couldn’t get Champ to go outside at all and was considering a hefty dose of anxiety meds for his cat.

Advertisement

My pet loyalty waned three years in. I was done scooping the litter, lint-rolling hair from my clothes and booking expensive cat condos when we took holidays. Champ was peeing in the girls’ backpacks, and Seuss had started spraying to mark territory. After one “Exorcist”-like incident, I lost it. I stuffed him in the cat carrier and informed the girls he was going back to the no-kill adoption place where we had a lifetime return policy.

He needs more friends, I told them. I texted my ex: “I’m returning the cat.”

“Then let’s adopt him a friend,” my older daughter begged on the ride. Seuss was silent, sensing his fate.

Upon arrival at the shelter on the Westside, I sat in the lobby with the cat in the carrier, thinking. I desperately wanted to do good as a parent. I didn’t want to be the parent who gave the cat away.

“Have you made your decision, ma’am?” the volunteer asked.

Advertisement

“Give me a minute,” I said, and then I called a friend who was a pet lover.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I wailed. “I bought him for the wrong reasons. I don’t need uniformity. I want out.”

She talked me down from my hysteria, and somehow, like cat people can, convinced me to honor my commitment. With the cat and kids in the car, I made my somber way home. I texted my ex: “I couldn’t do it.”

For five more years, I accepted my pet ownership, especially knowing he was a de facto emotional support animal for my now-16-year-old daughter. Despite her asthma, week upon week, after her return from her dad’s, she would wear Seuss like a fur stole around her neck.

“I missed him so much,” she’d say. Her younger sister was nonplussed. She refused to be responsible for cat care. “It’s not my cat,” she said.

Advertisement

Men I dated would meet the cat, and I would solemnly explain I wasn’t really a cat person. “Then why do you have a cat?” one guy asked, as Seuss sniffed his pant cuff suspiciously. I prayed he wouldn’t spray.

I moved to a house in South L.A., the land of feral cats. Thinking Seuss would thrive in a yard, he took to the streets, returning home filthy and ragged. He would eat and then meow to leave. Lying in bed at night, I would hear the thump of the neighborhood cats landing on the roof, their shadows on the fence passing my illuminated windowpane.

Then one day, without ceremony, my ex gave his cat away.

He got a dog.

My daughters didn’t give him any flack, and he didn’t make room for it. When I suggested I too was reconsidering my commitment to the cat when my daughter went to college, she freaked out.

Advertisement

“You can’t! You can give the cat to dad!” I knew that was a ridiculous suggestion. Why would her dad, who just became cat-free, take on my cat? I was annoyed. Why did he get to give the cat away, but I was stuck for life? I realized closing this chapter of cat ownership was going to be more challenging than I thought.

Within that year, my life changed. I fell in love, bought a condo and was spending more time at the house of my partner who was allergic to cats. Seuss was often left alone. A pet should live in a home where they’re loved and not barely tolerated. I wanted to broach the subject of giving up the cat again.

I called my ex and asked him to back me on my decision. Our relationship was now one of the support and friendship that can come from the hard trials of co-parenting, especially raising children in a city where so many parents look like they are doing it better than you.

“You aren’t happy,” he said. “You get to give away the cat.”

I called my daughter at college and expressed my intentions to give Seuss away unless she could find him a temporary home until she got an apartment.

Advertisement

“I’m empty-nesting like many parents,” I said, hoping for sympathy.

She was furious. It caused a painful rift between us for months. I advocated for the new phase of my mid-life to be pet-free, and she accused me of abandoning “the family pet.” In my heart, I knew I couldn’t do anything until she let go of a family dynamic once created when she was 7. The two cats, the two homes, the two parents. I loved her too much to make a move without her approval.

Two months later, on a return from college, she sat with me at the kitchen table and announced: “You can give the cat away. I care about my relationship with you more.” I exhaled. I was awed by her maturity and grace. I advocated for myself, and she heard my appeal. Drama-free, the cat was returned and readopted. Hopefully he has not run away.

The author, a book coach in Los Angeles, wrote the self-help book “No Longer Denying Sexual Abuse: Making the Choices That Can Change Your Life.” She writes a weekly Substack column called Give Yourself Permission at igiveyoupermission.substack.com.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

Advertisement

Lifestyle

Terry Tempest Williams on why women with big ideas get labeled ‘crazy’ : Wild Card with Rachel Martin

Published

on

Terry Tempest Williams on why women with big ideas get labeled ‘crazy’  : Wild Card with Rachel Martin

A note from Wild Card host Rachel Martin: I met Terry Tempest Williams about 25 years ago at a writer’s conference in Yosemite Valley. I was a young reporter who was there to do a story about how literature was addressing climate change and she made such a huge impression on me. I had never heard someone talk about the natural world the way Terry did and she had a spiritual depth I hadn’t encountered in my life at that point.

To this day, Terry’s writing always reorients me towards what is good, what is beautiful, and what is true. Her newest book is called “The Glorians.”

Continue Reading

Lifestyle

Meow Wolf taps famed L.A. animation house for its new Los Angeles venue

Published

on

Meow Wolf taps famed L.A. animation house for its new Los Angeles venue

For its upcoming Los Angeles venue, experiential art firm Meow Wolf will focus on the art of storytelling, with a specific eye toward skewering our city’s moviemaking magic. To help bring that vision to life, Meow Wolf has entered into a creative partnership with Titmouse, one of L.A.’s most renowned independent animation houses.

The Hollywood-based studio behind popular series such as “Big Mouth” and “Star Trek: Lower Decks” will create animation that will be shown throughout the West L.A. venue, which is on target for a late 2026 opening at the Howard Hughes entertainment complex.

It’s a move that represents a shift for Santa Fe, N.M.-based Meow Wolf. Over the last decade-plus, the art collective has grown beyond its anything-goes, punk-meets-psychedelic roots into an organization with full-scale, maximalist installations in its hometown, Denver, Las Vegas, Houston and the Dallas suburbs. In the past, Meow Wolf kept most of its media in-house.

As part of its larger-than-life participatory art installations, Meow Wolf L.A. will feature a mix of live action and animation, the former filmed by Meow Wolf in its Santa Fe studio. Meow Wolf’s James Stephenson, a senior VP with the company and its creative director of emerging media, said the degree to which the L.A. exhibition will lean into various animation styles necessitated an outside partner. Titmouse’s work, in development by a number of directors with contrasting tones, will be shown on a variety of formats, ranging from cinema screens to full-room projections.

“I really believe in animation as an art form, and I know the Titmouse folks do too,” Stephenson says. “Animation is made by artists. It’s made by artists with their own hands. It’s something that is still very rooted in craft.”

Advertisement

Meow Wolf’s L.A. space is set in a former cinema complex, and will champion its location, taking guests on a journey through a converted movie house and beyond, into a sci-fi-inspired fantasyland with sentient spaceships and a 30-foot-tall mushroom tower. Meow Wolf creatives have spoken of the fantastical movie theater as one that will feature animated, self-aware candy before attendees enter the main exhibition space, making Titmouse’s work some of the first art guests will encounter. Titmouse co-founder Chris Prynoski has said the studio has lined up at least six directors for the exhibit.

An in-progress art installation destined for Meow Wolf L.A. at the art collective’s Santa Fe, N.M., headquarters. The L.A. exhibition will feature animation from Titmouse.

(Gabriela Campos / For The Times)

Titmouse, says Stephenson, is the right partner because “they’re known less for a house style, and more for a house vibe.” Over the years, Titmouse has been behind such diverse shows as “Scavengers Reign,” owning a Jean Giraud influence rooted in French and Spanish surrealism, the lively “Jentry Chau vs. the Underworld,” with an unique color palette that took inspiration from anime and Chinese mythology, the exaggerated comic book feel of Adult Swim’s “Metalocalypse,” and the approachable yet expressive tone of “Star Trek: Lower Decks.”

Advertisement

“Meow Wolf’s vibe is similar to Titmouse’s vibe,” Stephenson says. “It’s artist-first, artist-driven, independent and kinda edgy. They are always trying to find the edge of what’s possible. They try to see how far they can go, and it’s done for fun and in the spirit of taking risks.”

Prynoski says working with Meow Wolf will give Titmouse a sense of artistic freedom it doesn’t always have when delivering content for more traditional Hollywood partners. He says the multi-director approach is a callback to the early days of Warner Bros. Animation, when individual creators put their own stamp on Looney Tunes material.

“I use Bugs Bunny as an example,” Prynoski says. “You’ve got a Friz Freleng Bugs Bunny short. You’ve got a Chuck Jones Bugs Bunny short. You’ve got a Tex Avery Bugs Bunny short. They’re all different versions of Bugs Bunny, and people who are really paying attention can tell which director directed each one. Even though to the layman, these are all Bugs Bunny, but if you lined them up, they are drawing in different styles, sensibilities and techniques.”

Prynoski says that was a centerpiece of his pitch to Meow Wolf, noting that characters will reappear in multiple installations, each handled by a different artist. Meow Wolf L.A., in fact, will be the firm’s most character-driven exhibition, as guests will follow the storylines of three main protagonists throughout the space.

In announcing the partnership, Meow Wolf and Titmouse released an image from an animated work directed by Luca Vitale. It features a key character having a moment with a hummingbird and it’s done in an elegant, slightly anime-influenced style. It’s an image full of movement, reflecting a character in transition with inviting pastels and bold dashes.

Advertisement

“I like that image because I think it captures some of the sense of wonder that we want people to feel,” Stephenson says. “The character is having an encounter with the elusive nature of creativity and reality in a way that makes them have a different perspective of what’s possible.”

Other contributing animation directors to Meow Wolf L.A. include Space Dawg, Felix Colgrave, Alexander Vanderplank and Phimémon Martin, and Jun Ioneda.

Titmouse’s partnership with Meow Wolf will extend beyond the L.A. exhibition. The two will be working on the development of Meow Wolf New York, which is slated to open some time after Los Angeles, and are collaborating on a planned animated series, which Prynoski is spearheading.

Meow Wolf exhibits are the result of sometimes hundreds of disparate artists coming together in a shared space. Distilling that into a signature, singular style for a series could be a challenge. Stephenson pinpoints some guiding principles.

“You really need to feel the hand of the artist,” he says. “You need to feel a DIY aesthetic. You need to feel the materiality. Those are very specific to what we are.”

Advertisement
Continue Reading

Lifestyle

Appeals court denies Trump’s request to halt removal of his name from the Kennedy Center

Published

on

Appeals court denies Trump’s request to halt removal of his name from the Kennedy Center

The Kennedy Center on June 28, with its facade signage still covered by a tarp and scaffolding.

Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images


hide caption



toggle caption

Advertisement

Alex Wroblewski/AFP via Getty Images

On Wednesday, a federal appeals court denied President Trump’s request to stop the removal of his name from Washington, D.C.’s Kennedy Center. The signage on the building has been covered with tarp and scaffolding since June 13, but in a court filing last month, the center’s current executive director said that Trump’s name has been removed.

In their decision, three judges from the U.S. District Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit said that the president had failed to prove that the arts center would be “irreparably injured” without Trump’s name attached to it.

NPR requested comment from the Kennedy Center, but did not receive an immediate reply.

Advertisement

This latest round of court decisions is part of the ongoing litigation filed by Rep. Joyce Beatty, D-Ohio, against President Trump and the board of the Kennedy Center. In a statement emailed Wednesday to NPR, Beatty said: “Today’s ruling again affirms that this administration’s efforts to rename the Kennedy Center were unlawful. His name no longer desecrates this sacred memorial, which belongs to the American people. Now it is time for the Trump administration to accept this, comply with the law, and take the tarps down.”

In previous court filings, Trump’s legal team had asserted that removing the president’s name from the arts complex, both on the physical building and in its digital materials, would inflict irreparable harm in both time and money already spent. In the denial, the three judges — Patricia Millett, Robert Wilkins and Gregory Katsas — wrote that since Trump’s name has already been removed, “a stay would not avert those harms.”

Furthermore, Trump had claimed that without his name attached, future fundraising would be threatened “and [will] contribute to the financial decline of the Center.” In response, the appeals judges wrote: “Appellants, however, have failed to support this assertion with any specific facts or evidence. They offer only the conclusory assertions of the Kennedy Center’s Executive Director that were made in a factually unsupported declaration.” The center’s current executive director, Matt Floca, specializes in physical plant management.

Continue Reading
Advertisement

Trending