Yes! You are filled with energy, with vigour, that has to be released by sprinting like a greyhound would — definitely not in a clothing store filled with racks of expensive animal costumes though, or you'd have to pay, and considering the immaculate details on your costume, you probably have to pay a lot. It's probably best to start with some slow steps first… oops, your hindquarters just hit a rack! At least it didn't fall. Now your hind leg got entangled around the leg of a shelf, and you struggle to set it free, since you have to turn around to see it. Being a taur isn't as easy as you'd have thought: it's like having a caboose you have to drag behind yourself all the time.
Nor is turning around sharp corners easy: you have to bend your lower body sideways (fortunately dogs' torsos are a little more flexible, you're not sure if a traditional centaur could turn like you do). After a bit of practice, you can navigate the store without bunping into any shelves, racks or walls for now.
Now carefully pacing towards the door, a question suddenly came to mind: that you didn't even pay for the costume. Stopping and looking around, you see no cashier in sight. Weird. How are you going to pay for the suit? Or are they really offering these high-quality costumes for absolutely free, magical properties aside?
Aha! Maybe the money's collected at the main gate before the visitors leave. You head out of the costume store and — woah! Your nose is immediately filled with all the scents that the zoo can offer: the smells of the animals on exhibit (though you can't tell any of them apart for now), the flowers, the food from the restaurant, the urine inside the collection bin… just before the door slams on your butt. It's not very convenient having to drag around your hindquarters everywhere, it seems.
Once you walk out of the store, you see several pairs of eyes fixated on you. That's fair, you think, considering that they probably have never seen a dog taur, ever, but you're still slightly embarrassed. That is no matter. You've already tried to take off the costume, and it didn't budge; it seems that the costume's magic truly turned you into the animal it embodies, at least for the time being. You don't even feel the costume on your skin, as if the costume became your skin and fur. Even if you aren't wearing any clothes, you don't feel naked at all.
Continuing onto the main gate, you reach there, and desperately look for some booth or cashier terminal, but to no avail.
"Congratulations, visitor!" You turn around to see a clerk standing beside your shoulder. "Typically those wearing our magical costumes need some help to complete the metamorphosis and accustom themselves to there new bodies. Seems that you have adapted well on your own."
Finally. "How much do I have to pay for this?"
"…Huh. Never knew anyone that bothered to ask that. Everyone that's gone through the deal before just left without a notice. A penny, if you insist."
"Hold on." You left your jumper, with your wallet inside, in the costume store. Once you carefully trot through the racks to retrieve your jumper, you put it on again, but it feels strange against your fur. Still, that's at least better than walking around buck naked. You returned to the main gate, this time ignoring the scents and the curious glares of the other visitors and handed a penny to the assistant. She walks away, indifferent to the situation. Huh.
Now with that out of the way, the vigour returns, and you have to unleash it by running like a greyhound would. Surely you won't do this in the zoo, in fear of bumping into other visitors; this has to be done in a vast, open area, or at least some racetrack.