I can’t tell you when the story began, only that it has traveled and evolved as we have from children into adults.

Chena was from Alaska, she was a beautiful black and white Siberian Husky, found by my father during one of his adventures.  Homeless and itching for family she came to live with us.  As the tale goes, blessed by two little girls and a wonderful companion my mother and father could hope for nothing more, but longed for one more piece of life to round out the circle and complete the dream of their happy family.  They asked and wished for another little girl, then tried to no avail.  It seemed that their perfect picture might never come to fruition.  Then, when hopelessness sat knocking, and the sun began to rise on a new phase of life, she arrived.

Confused by doors and the bright light of the west, a package was dropped by a stork, in haste.  A slight miscalculation, that did not in any way take away from the joy of the occasion.  As the day broke, my father found Chena, tucked in her doghouse, licking the new arrival.  It seemed that as the people slept and the stars swept across the sky Chena had been unexpectedly unburdened.

Overjoyed, Dad ran into the house yelling, “We have a new little girl”!  So, as was told then and has been told often since, my parents shaved off every scrap of this little ones hair, cut off her tail, accepted her as their own and named her Katie.

Chena died when I was sixteen years old and I mourned her death like that of a sister.  Lily, Katie, my mother and I, with the help of my father dug a deep hole in our back yard and filled it with every rhododendron bloom found for miles.  We wrote and read letters of farewell and fare-wishes, we posed family photos, we offered her gifts and we cried for our loss. Together we lowered her into this six foot deep hole and spent the rest of the evening replacing the earth to cover the spot in my parents yard that to this day grows the greenest, strongest, most abundant grass in all of Seattle.

Initially I found myself giggling as I viewed Tiffany’s work, comforted by the sense of a long lost toy and lilted into some cozy moment of memories past.  I felt happy with the stuffed animal and rewarded by the trophy. However, the awkwardness of her soft, plush hanging memoriam tinged something hiding in me, an accountability for the mysticism, and I found myself walking through the pet cemetery of my life, recalling a narrative changed by a dog, and a Dad.

-Visual Arts Editor, Liz McDonald

My Dead Pets
sewn fleece, fiber-fill, taxidermy eyes
installation dimensions, 13ft x 7ft
View this body of work at the Bellevue Art Museum, for their High Fiber Diet biennial show,
in October 2012

Trixie (2003-2006)

Cat (2004-2008)

Hamster #1 (2001-2002)

Hamster #2 (2001-2002)

Kitty (1995-1996)

Rufio (1995-1995)

Ohio (1990-2006)

Midnight (1988-1991)

BFA Thesis Work
Big Softies

http://tiffanypruitt.com