My household in my 1200-square-foot Chicago condo is comprised of myself, four cats (Beowulf, Grendel, Hela, and Máni), and a corn snake named Brimo. I often think about the fact that, were I transported to Early Modern Germany or Scotland, I’d have certainly been executed for the “crime” of Witchcraft because a woman alone as the sovereign of her household was shockingly unacceptable, and my animal companions—deemed devils in animal form according to the superstitions of the time—would have certainly cemented my reputation as a consort of Satan and gotten me strung up on the gallows or worse. I simply could not have been viewed as a childless-by-choice woman who loves her pets as family and treasures each of their unique personalities as gifts.
It all began in August of 2013, when I moved into my first-ever purchased home: a cozy condo in Chicago’s far northwest corner—a neighborhood, unbeknownst to me at the time, notoriously known for its ghastly history and stupendously huge mass paupers’ graves lurking beneath my very subdivision and a large swath of the surrounding area! Continue reading