"And you're sure, absolutely SURE, you want to do this," said the skeptical-looking senior citizen from behind the counter. Transformed ex-humans were not his boss's only merchandise, but still it seemed like almost a fifth of his customers were coming in to try to BE animals rather than BUY animals. He always wondered how many of them had actually thought it through as much as they insisted they had.
"Yes. There's nothing left for me out there. You can give me a second chance," you say, possible exaggerating. Thirty or forty years ago, people might have thought you were just having a midlife crisis, and that your life, while needlessly stressful and unfulfilling, was still better than no life at all. But that was before humans could get an pet's life in exchange. You just couldn't help thinking the animals people walked on leashes or kept in tanks had it better than you did. You had way more responsibilities, and you just couldn't convince yourself you had much more freedom.
The old man shook his head and grabbed a few e-papers from under the desk. The shop owner wanted his cashier's to be non-judgmental in situations like this, and he tried his best, but it was hard. He was from an earlier time. A time before nanobots and genetic replacement injections. A time when people wanted more from their lives than curling up under a heat lamp or getting scratched behind the ears. Sure, suicide rates had been plummeting for decades, but was this really better? People with more of their lives ahead of them than he had left were lining up to throw it all away, as far as he was concerned.
"Here, you will need to sign these documents. This is the agreement that you are voluntarily waiving the entitlements set forth in all human rights law in all relevant jurisdictions. This is the agreement that your new owners will not be told that you are human, except that as with all sales, they be informed that there is some probability of that being the case." You drug your stylus across the silicon mat as new pages materialized upon it. It finally started sinking in that this could be the last time you'd ever write your human name. The e-paper kept rewriting itself and you kept signing. The man continued. "And lastly, this is to ensure you understand that your decision is equivalent to legal death and your estate will be dispensed with according to your last will and testament, if you have created one." You signed and he rolled it back up like a scroll.
"Okay, come on into the back room with me."