“I just like to have the stuffed animals around. “It doesn’t really interest me now,” he says. He even wrote a plushie newsletter for a while, but gave it up. “They seem almost ridiculously optimistic about the world and their place in it.” Next to a photo of sea lions, the caption reads: “Do they have any idea how cute they look when they beg? Who could refuse them?”įor a while, he concedes, he was a “plushie,” which is the word for a person who has a strong-usually erotic-attachment to stuffed animals. “There’s something just inherently cheerful about ducks,” reads the text next to one picture on his Web site. Like the time he made a solo trip to Sea World.
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In 1998, Ostrich put up a Web site where you can see his animal drawings, his animal-themed poems and short stories (one of which was published in Pawprints, a magazine for furries), his instructions on how to build a fursuit, and pictures of himself engaged in animal-centered activities. They are trying very hard, but they are not quite there.” And I was compared to the ostrich ballerinas in Fantasia. “I guess I was technically competent, but not very much fun to watch. “I was sincere but not impressive,” he says. He got his name after taking some ballet classes and not being very good at it. Now he writes a newsletter for Ohio Furs, an organization of furries with 87 members. “And I looked at it and I was like, Whoa! This looks pretty much exactly what I’d like to read-I gotta have one of these,” he recalls.
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One day he went to a comic-book shop and discovered Genus, a furry comic-book series with sexy characters. He was a chemist at the time, collecting dinosaur stuff on the side. It wasn’t until 1994 that he came upon others who shared his interest. “Now I’m old and I’m warped, everybody knows it, so I don’t bother hiding anything anymore!” “I didn’t necessarily want to be the animal, but I wanted to have the animal shape, as far back as I can remember. “When I was very, very young, I knew I wanted to be some type of animal,” he says. He’s 39 years old and works as a network administrator at a rubber company in Akron. Ostrich, whose real name is Marshall Woods, is a compact guy in a denim jacket and blue jeans. The headlights illuminate the road ahead. We get into his Chevrolet Metro and speed away from the Sheraton, toward the nearest mall. “You regress into a child when you come to a convention,” Johnson says, “because it’s that kind of camaraderie, or childishness.” Riding with Ostrich “It’s like looking at it with baby eyes, or cub eyes.” “It’s a new way of looking at the world,” Dickinson says. Last year, Johnson, who has brought the ashes of his dead cat to the FurFest, persuaded Dickinson to attend another furry convention in Memphis, and that’s what did it. Next to him is his skinny, longhaired, fedora-wearing sidekick, a 23-year-old art student named Ian Johnson (nametag: r. But when you’re one of the furs, it’s one big extended family.” “In normal society,” Dickinson says, “two people who hardly know each other do not walk up and scratch each other’s backs. He started to believe that, somewhere deep down, he was actually … a polar bear. Instead I find myself talking with Keith Dickinson, a self-described “computer geek.” Not long ago, this man, a 37-year-old from Kansas City, Kansas, was so depressed he could barely bring himself to go to the grocery store. Here, a number of “furries”-people whose interest in animal characters goes further than an appreciation of The Lion King-are gathering together.Īt 7:30 p.m., near the front desk, three men known as Pack Rat, Rob Fox, and Zen Wolph are scratching one another’s backs-grooming one another, like macaques in a zoo.
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