A Last Hurrah for Santa Barbara’s Cat Mewseum

I grew up alongside my cat, Sagwa. Through mean middle schoolers, mind-melting math problems, and the stress of college applications, Sagwa was always there. She would lend a fuzzy ear and offer a purr of support as she curled up on my chest. But now, I find myself subconsciously reaching for her and finding only a pillow in her place. I said goodbye to her in May, returning home from college just a day before she had to be put down. I’m still processing the loss.

My dad believes in heaven and reincarnation. My mom believes in simple decomposition. I don’t know what I believe. Even non-spiritual people say that your loved ones still exist within you after they pass, and I really want to believe that. So, I’m trying to feel Sagwa’s love in every sunbeam and bird, to feel her fur when I brush against tall grass. I’m trying to look for signs, whatever that means.

The other day, I came across the biggest sign yet. Actually, it was quite small; a humble neon blue and pink sign bearing the words “Cat Mewseum.” Though we all know what curiosity did to the cat, it still got the better of me and I entered, greeted by at least a hundred pairs of eyes staring back at me.

The walls were covered in paintings, each one depicting a different cat. A blue ragdoll painted rather realistically, a rainbow cat in a cubist style, an expressionist ghostly-looking cat — no two were alike. Dozens more cat knick-knacks and books sat nestled on shelves.

As I perused the prints strewn across tables in the center of the room, I spotted a wispy-haired woman who looked like she owned the place. After speaking with her, I learned that she, Diane Huntoon, was not only the owner but also the artist behind every painting in the place. The Cat Mewseum was her passion project, but it was closing in a week. I knew I had to come back to learn more.

Huntoon described the Mewseum’s advent as “serendipitous,” “magical,” and “meant to be.” It all came together when she found the perfect gallery space available for a short-term lease.

“It’s an experience, it’s not a shop or a gallery,” she said.

To my surprise, Huntoon doesn’t currently have any pet cats or even a deep affinity for them. What she does love, though, is the effect her art has on people. Her artistic streak started in childhood and led her to a fine art degree from UC Santa Barbara 40-odd years ago, where she focused on abstract art but would paint cats on the side.

She continued painting during her two decades abroad as an English and art teacher. In Japan, she purchased a book of rice paper and black ink from a 7-Eleven and made a thousand quick cat paintings. In Hong Kong, she started placing postcard-sized prints of cats on a chair outside her apartment, next to a maneki-neko cat-shaped bank for passersby to pay on the honor system.

The first U.S. iteration of the Cat Mewseum was in a small space in Summerland. During the pandemic, Huntoon put her cards out downtown, with a donation box. “It [was] kind of like being Banksy, no one knew who I was,” she said. 

The city made her stop, so she started plotting the next iteration. It turned out to be her biggest project yet, with the State Street Cat Mewseum running a few months over her initial plan.

Huntoon knew it wasn’t going to be very profitable, but she was more focused on the “heart profit” she got from seeing people’s reactions and hearing their cat stories. One couple came in on their wedding day to participate in the Mewseum’s signature “create your own cat” art activity.

“[The wife] said, ‘I can’t think of anything better than to create cat art with my new husband on my wedding day,’” Huntoon said. “It was just amazing … a good feeling all around.”

Stories like these made me want to experience all the Mewseum had to offer, so I returned nearly every day of its final week in hopes of crafting a story, but also, selfishly, hoping it would help me deal with my grief.

I created cat art on canvas with oil pastels. I chose a circa 2012 picture of Sagwa and me cuddled in a big gray chair. By then, she had reached full chubbiness and I loved having more surface area to pet. I tried to emulate the impressionists, the ones who depicted not just what they could see but what they felt. I drew a tie-dye-like burst of energy emanating our embrace, but it was impossible to completely capture the feeling. That’s one of the hardest things about both death and growing older for me. I find myself trying desperately to grab onto glimmers of memories as they fade away.

I had to grab onto those memories extra tight to participate in the final Mewseum event — an open mic to share cat stories. My story became something akin to a eulogy. Only a handful of people showed up, and Huntoon told me to think of it as a test run. I stumbled through what I had written but not proofread. My voice wobbled, tears flowed, and I felt all-too-aware of how I sounded through the microphone. It was incredibly therapeutic.

Open-mic night two brought a larger crowd armed with cat stories. One guy made a slideshow about his cat who had recently passed. Another shared about his 25-year-old cat who survived the Loma Prieta Earthquake in 1989. A sister duo sang a song to the tune of “L-O-V-E” about their grandma’s cat Ricky. I couldn’t help but smile as each person shared their stories with such genuine passion.

The open mic was my outlet to pore through all aspects of Sagwa’s life and my relationship with her. Sagwa would frequently pee in my closet, eat her weight in kibble, and bite guests that tried to pet her. But I don’t blame her for being on edge when strangers came and invaded her home. There is no need to shower people who haven’t earned your trust with unconditional love. Love that you’ve earned is much more powerful. That was the love I felt from Sagwa. That was the love that I still feel when I see a butterfly float beside me on my runs or when I stumble upon a Cat Mewseum.

I only wish I had found it sooner so that more people could go to enjoy the extraordinary space born from Huntoon’s ingenuity. To learn about new pop-ups, follow @catmewseumsantabarbara on Instagram.