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Welcome to the world of “furries”: the thousands of Americans who’ve gotten in touch with their inner raccoon, or wolf, or fox.
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The moose—actually a man in a full-body moose costume—is here for a convention …
and so is the porcupine a few feet away, as well as the many foxes and wolves.
Even the people in regular clothes have a little something (ferret hand puppet, rabbit ears) to set them apart from the ordinary hotel guests.
One man in jeans and a button-down shirt gets up from a couch in the lobby and walks over to the elevator, revealing a fluffy tail dragging behind him. Inside, a fellow is kissing a man with antlers on his head. Here, a number of “furries”—people whose interest in animal characters goes further than an appreciation of —are gathering together. 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. He started to believe that, somewhere deep down, he was actually …
The other hotel guests look stunned.“We’re a group of people who like things having to do with animals and cartoons,” a man in a tiger suit tells a woman. At 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. a polar bear.“In normal society,” Dickinson says, “two people who hardly know each other do not walk up and scratch each other’s backs. Last year, Johnson, who has brought the ashes of his dead cat to the Fur Fest, persuaded Dickinson to attend another furry convention in Memphis, and that’s what did it.“It’s a new way of looking at the world,” Dickinson says.