Ian McDonald- Shrine

For my shrine, I wanted to memorialize my pet hedgehog, Stormy. He passed away about 10 days ago. I haven’t felt ready to pack up his cage yet, and I came to realize that his cage had become a shrine for me. I buried him that night, but the rest of his cage was the same. Part of my nightly ritual was to come home, play with him for a half hour, feed him, and refill his bottle of water. Now, I come home and I’m reminded of his absence.

I didn’t bring his cage into class, in part because I want this to be a moveable shrine. He was my travel buddy. I lived in DC this past summer, so whenever I went home, he was riding shotgun. Similarly, when I went home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, I brought him home with me.

As for the pieces I did bring in to class, each of them represent part of my memory of Stormy. First, there was his wheel. To me, this is the centerpiece of the shrine. Watching him run was hilarious. I also know that it was something he loved. I spent a lot of time trying to find the right wheel for him. I ended up buying and returning probably 5 different wheels before I found one that made him happy. To me, the wheel is representative of both something Stormy enjoyed and the effort I put in to keep him satisfied. Next, there is his food bowl. Like I said, part of my nightly ritual was to fill it up. The fact that its empty is a reminder that he is no longer with me. Because he was nocturnal, most nights I would wake up to him crunching away at his food. Now, the silence is another reminder of his absence. I also included his heat lamp, because that was another ritual that I remember in its absence. I used to swap out his heat bulb and a ceramic heat bulb every morning and night. That way, he could be warm and happy, but also not have his sleep cycles messed up. Finally, I included his sleeping bag. He wouldn’t use this to sleep in on a nightly basis. However, I used it when I was traveling to keep him comfortable. I included it in my shrine, in part, because of the symbolism between sleep and death.

            Whenever I was packing to go home, Stormy and his cage would be the last things I would pack up. I imagine when I finish packing everything up to leave Lexington, the last thing I’ll pack up will be his cage. I doubt I will unpack it. For me, this shrine is less about creative action and more about avoiding destructive action. It almost feels as though I can keep him alive by refusing to pack up his stuff. The reminders that are caused by his absence make me feel like he isn’t completely gone yet.