Mom Meets the Furries by Betty Nargle 10/24/97

     These furries are totally weird, and that's a mom's
perspective. Nothing will change my mind. When my son told me he
was furry last year, I nearly crawled out of my skin thinking about it.
I've known my son for 24 years. I knew he was a bit eccentric, but
then, that runs in the family. I had raised him to be a well mannered
gentleman.  Turns out I had raised a well mannered WOLF. If that
sounds weird, it is. I'm a parent.  It's my job to be baffled. I write this
in hopes that you parents of furry children can better grasp the furry
stuff. I haven't, but I do know how totally happy my son is. I also
know he isn't a loon, nor does he need help. To me, the furry stuff
breaks down to a bunch of people trying to live a better and more
understanding life. How fur on one's body can help that, I have no
clue. Still, with all the new friends he's met, his life has changed for
the better, so the best I can do is be happy for him, baffled always,
but happy.

First off, my grasp of the furry world should start with the definition
as I try to understand it. There is a largely Internet-based fandom for
anthropomorphic animals. Those are creatures that have human
features like Bugs Bunny or Daffy Duck. Great. It's people who like
cartoons. I wish it were that simple. No, people who call themselves
furry can have imaginary furry personas, like make believe.
Playhouse. Funtime. My son tells me of several furs he knows that
run around as sex craved foxes. Sounds cute and fun huh? Well, it
goes further. Even more furs want to actually BE these
anthropomorphic creatures, meaning they want fur and a muzzle, and
claws, and fleas and odor and mange. I'm getting carried away, but
it's true. Part of what I don't understand is why, if you want to be an
animal, would you want to be human too? My son explains it as "the
best of both worlds." I wasn't sure if I should ask him to get off the
furniture or not. Ahh, but the best part is, yes, some of those who call
themselves furs don't want to be anthropomorphic at all. (By the
way, if you want to have fun with your co-workers, drop that word
frequently. It sounds big and baffling and they'll look impressed.)

Yes, my son is a genuine, bona fide werewolf! Now, I don't mean the
"rip your neck" maniac half man half animal you see in the movies. I
mean a step above a dog, four-legged, pack running, sheep hunting
wolf! He's also a fur too, but I don't get his definition of how that's
possible. I simply asked if I'd be needing to buy silver bullets in the
future. Nope. He assured me that most weres are harmless. Let's just
say I avoid werewolf movies now. 

Background on my son:
Just so none of you get the wrong idea, I love my son. I love him
more than any mom could love a kid. I'll never stop doing so. No
matter what he throws at me, he's my son. If he showed up wanting
to mark his territory on my antique desk, he'd still be my son. He
tried to explain what caused his furry feelings and he doesn't know.
He liked cartoons as much as the next kid, but I did notice his habits
of make believe were a bit different. Always animals. Who'd have
guessed he'd like the big bad wolf a little too much. He liked dogs
quite a bit. I remember he had those Fisher Price little people, and he
had the dogs. Lots of them. He traded with friends for them. What the
hell did I know? When he got older and we bought a VCR, sure
enough he copied anything with someone becoming an animal in it.
He taped a Disney movie, one of those shaggy dog films. I can
remember watching it with him and noting his discomfort with me
being there. Then, there was that costume. He built his own shaggy
wolf costume, well, it was sort of shaggy. It was face makeup and
socks if I recall. It wasn't your typical werewolf, but it was
Halloween. I shrugged it off as creativity. He was always writing
stories or acting in theater, just finding way to be creative. I thought
the costume was just another thing.

Now, keep in mind, his whole time growing up neither his big sister
nor I learned of his desire. Nothing could have forewarned of that day
in January when I learned the truth. You think you know someone
who is so close to you, then they throw you a curve. Stunned is the
best way to describe my reaction. Yet, if your child ever hits you with
this one, be relieved. At least they haven't killed anyone.

This is how I came to know who my son really was. He started by
dropping me some hints on the phone. He'd moved out for college
about two hours away, so I hadn't seen him much for a few years. He
called one night to tell me he had bought a computer, gotten on the
Internet and it had changed his life. He said he wasn't alone and there
were tons of others like him, yet he didn't elaborate. He said his main
reason for getting the computer was writing. He wanted to do the
great American novel. I was a little steamed because he owed me
money, but he insisted he needed the computer.

I didn't hear from him again until he mentioned that he was coming
to town for some sort of Internet gathering. A bunch of people he said
he met on the Internet were meeting at a hotel near where we lived. I
was scared for him. What the hell was he thinking? Meeting a bunch
of strangers from the Internet? Who were these perverts and weirdos?
I gave him the typical motherly "be careful" speech that every kid so
hates to hear, but he insisted that these Internet people weren't like
any other people on the net.

A few days later, that's when I got the phone call:

"Hi Mom, I'm in town and well, when do you want me to come
over?"
"I'm making dinner, you can come over any time you want."
"Well, I'm at the hotel, and, wow. I mean this place is unbelievable.
I'm very nervous.  There's so much going on here."

I heard the tone of his voice. He was scared more than nervous. Of
course, I wanted him to come home right away.

"Well, why don't you come over now and have a couple beers while
dinner is cooking."
"Mom. (nervous laugh), I really don't believe this place. I mean,
what's happening here. My God! I'm going to make a few more
phone calls and walk around a bit more, then I'll be over."
"All right, you be careful. I'll talk to you later."

When he hung up, the curiosity was just killing me. Actually it more
than killed me, it buried me under concrete. Guess what mom was
thinking? Just guess. Yup, I thought surely he was going to tell me he
was gay. I never doubted my daughter's preferences because she was
involved with boys since she was 14. She was a handful. My son
however, didn't date. He didn't see women. He never called or wrote
me about girls in college. Nothing. We had a candid discussion about
relationships once and he always spoke of his longing for a straight
relationship.

Well, I know that can mislead. It did to me. Here my son was, saying
he'd met a ton of people from the Internet and that his life had
changed. I thought surely the convention he was attending was a drag
show. I was doomed to see my son show up in high heels. I remember
preparing myself mentally for that sort of thing. I also remember
getting my "safe sex" speech ready. Like I said before, I'd love him
no matter what. The knock at my door came. 

"Is that you," I asked?
"Yes," I heard in muffled tone. Oh brother. High heels and lipstick. I
fully expected it.

When I opened the door, this intense relief swept over me. I almost
broke into laughter, but was more stupified. Standing before me was
a big shaggy wolf in full costume. If it wasn't for the voice, I'd have
had no idea who was under there. I asked him to come in and he
hugged me. It was creepy in one respect, kind of comforting in
another.

I don't know what kind of reaction he was expecting from me, but I
had one of amazement. His mouth moved very realistically. His
claws could contract. It was great! I asked if he built it, and he told
me he had.

"That's really amazing. You ought to sell those. How long did it take
to make?"
"Months, but I built it in steps. I hurried it up to make Halloween last
year."
"You might be in the wrong business, I mean that thing is great!"
"Well mom, this is what I'm here for. You see, the people I have met
make these too, well some do. They're called furries, and I'm
attending a convention of these people..."

As he talked, the furry world unfolded before me and it didn't seem
so bad. A bunch of adults acting like kids. Reading comics, playing
games, doing Internet stuff. He explained a few of the odder sides of
the furry world that I'd rather not get into. Sexual kinks and the like.
I was amazed how diplomatic he was in talking about it. A big part
of being furry is learning tolerance for differences in people. It's an
admirable quality I wish I could be more attune to. When he'd
finished this wonderful fantasy painting of happy furry people doing
happy furry stuff, something did not sit right with me. How could a
game like furry change someone's life so much for the better? Oh no.
Stupid me couldn't leave well enough alone. Stupid me had to ask
the question. I can still feel the words forming on my lips in slow
motion.

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

When I look in retrospect, if he'd said he was gay, I'd have been
relieved. At least gay was somewhat acceptable or explainable in the
late 1990's. Oh no, he dropped a bomb on me far greater than any
sexual preference. The child I had raised to be a well adjusted
addition to humanity tells you he's not really human at all. I tried not
to cry. Immediately I got guilt trips and attempted to deal with them.
Where did I go wrong? Was I THAT bad a mother? It's pretty damn
low on the mother scale. I'd rate about a two, because at least he
wanted to be alive. I kept trying to find cause for what he was telling
me. Maybe I did THIS or THAT wrong... I felt awful.

Ahh, but my son is as perceptive as I am. He knew what I was feeling
and that's when he spoke some sense to me.

"Mom. Please don't think you had anything to do with this. You
didn't. I have been this way since I was five years old. The majority
of my life, you've known me as who I am. Nothing you did makes
me feel this way."
"What about the divorce? Maybe if you had a father.."
"Mom, of the friends I've talked to, divorce plays no factor. I mean,
the wolf was going to find me. It was probably there since I was born.
It awakened at an early age, but it doesn't matter. Feelings this strong
didn't manifest over night. They have to be there, and mine were.
Once you find these feelings, you can't shut them off. Nothing you
did or could do would have changed me."

I knew I'd raised a smart kid. His logic was correct. There still is that
dark corner of my mind where I think it might have been me, but for
the most part, I agree with his assessment. No drugs or shrink would
change him and since he's fine in society, why bother.

So, I suppose me writing this can provide a little support for those
parents who meet who their children REALLY are. It's also therapy
for myself. Your child is now like a stranger that you are meeting for
the first time, yet feel you really know. It's tough. I offer some tips.

First, blaming yourself does no good. If this stuff wakes up in your
child, it's there. My son tried himself to make it go away at one point.
He shut off what he thought was bad. He ended up in a worse
position, and I don't want to discuss it further. It's too upsetting. Just
realize if your child has furry in them, it's not going anyplace.

Second, be who you are. Be the parent. Love your kid. Be happy they
are happy.

Third, don't pretend. Be true to yourself. Look, my son knows that I
will never understand his feelings. He respects that. He knows I think
it's weird. He understands. What makes it work is that he's not trying
to change me and I'm not trying to change him.

Fourth, try your best to be comfortable, but don't force yourself. I
kind of enjoy hearing what wierdness happens in the furry world and
I know it means a lot to him to tell me or he wouldn't. However, if
you don't want to know from furry, let them know. They should
understand.

Maybe I'm an unusual mom. Maybe I'm too damn liberal for most of
you, but I had to tell my story. As the Internet expands, more will get
on-line and find they are no longer alone. That release gives strength
and courage to express those feeling pent up inside for so long. They
will want to tell all, including us, the unsuspecting parental units. If
your child is living at home, don't panic. More important, don't try to
crush it. Easy for me to say, I know, but I wouldn't encourage it
either. Support them however they need to be, but know your limits
and know their limits. Remember, I don't believe their telling you are
a cry for help, but rather a plea for acceptance. It's too hard for me to
accept, but I did adjust to it. I'm sure my son feels bad that I don't
accept him, nor do I want him to keep trying to accept me.. I love
him, and if he says he's a wolf, I still love him and I won't try to
change him. If he ever howls at the moon from my balcony though, I
may take issue with that.-Betty Nargle

Betty Nargle is a freelance columnist for several entertainment
publications and women's magazines.

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