Just before Christmas, I got a puppy.
Her name is Minerva, and we call her *Minnie.
I'm still learning how to understand her.
Me: Do you need to go outside? Do you need to go outside, little baby? Do you need to do a poo?
Do you need to do a widdle piddle?
Minnie: Arf!
*I just call her "little baby" most of the time.
I'm also realizing I can't turn off the baby talk now.
Nobody tells you about that.
I got so lucky with my first puppy.
Her wonderful foster parents had her completely house-trained by the time we adopted her, so taking her outside for potty time has been pretty easy. I've got the puppy poopy routine pretty much down, now.
Me, putting on my coat: Let's see... I got the little poopy bags, puppy treats for bribes, jacket, scarf, phone… I think that's everything… Oh yes! And my passport.
I had been carrying around my passport for a while, but I knew it didn't matter. This is wrong. Nobody is required to carry around their papers.
I became a US citizen when I was seven. Since I was born in a refugee camp, I was stateless.
The US is the only nation where I've ever held citizenship. It's the only passport I've ever had, and it still felt important. Protective.
I would hold it in my pocket like a talisman, like it might ward off ghosts or something. But I realized I was holding onto it basically out of superstition.
ICE will pick up anybody.
I know that.
So I tucked my passport away.
And I largely avoid leaving my house.
I live a few blocks just South of George Floyd Square. I was in the neighborhood for that, too.
And all the neighbors came together to protect each other. We're already organized.
We'll do our best to get through this.
Me, to my dog: I hope I can take you for a walk someday soon. Won't that be nice, little baby?
Abolish ICE. A little journal comic from South Minneapolis.
#iceoutmpls #iceoutcomics #iceoutofmpls
