As you step out of the car and into your house, the suit in your arms, you contemplate where to place this costume, since it's imbued with dangerous magic. Even if someone stole it, they shouldn't have to go through what you have gone through. Your desk in your study room has a hidden drawer, so you slide it open and place the costume in.
Out of sight, out of mind: the outfit is left in the discreet compartment, picking up dust.
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It's nearing Christmas, and as you dust your house, the hidden compartment enters your eyes once again. Curious, you open it, to find a folded grey animal outfit.
All the memories rushed into your mind: your backside mashing into the racks, awkwardly wedging yourself into your car, climbing down the stairs on all sixes, running carefree across the meadows…
Oh, to be as free, as exuberant as you were then…
Just once more, you promise yourself, just once. You don the costume once again, your head changing shape, while you note your sense of smell becoming more acute again, and you regain control over your re-emerged back half, the costume turning you into a realistic greyhound.
Looking at your yellowish lawn (again, altered colour vision), you slide the side door open and orange into your backyard, immediately picking up your pace again, not even bothering to turn around to shut the side door.
The thrilling sensation returns anew as you dash across your expansive lawn, your tail wagging furiously in the process. This is the joy you've been looking for, that is completely absent from your sedentary occupation, as the bench you absentmindedly left out in the fields enters your sight.
Yet, it is not fear that occupies your mind, but determination, that you can leap over the bench as one would a hurdle. On all fours this works a little differently: once your forelegs are lifted off the ground, the hind legs pounce and lift your body up in the air; you then orient yourself such that your lower back slopes slightly forwards, and your forelegs land on the ground, the hind legs soon following. You then slow yourself down to a halt, make a U-turn towards the bench, lift it, when a much better idea cane to you: you crouch down slightly, slide your back half under the bench, and then stand up straight, the bench now balanced on your back half. It's much easier to carry than you thought it would be. You then walk next your house, aim your caboose at the wall, and bend your hind legs slope it downwards to lay the bench down. Lest you trip over it at night!
That still wasn't challenging enough. You take out the picnic table with benches attached to it from the living room and slide it to the lawn. That's heavy duty and having to coordinate your back half doesn't help matters. Then you trot to a distance away, speed up towards the table, and in front on it, leap on the bench first; then your forelegs launch you forwards on the bench, and once you see yourself over the table, your hind legs do the same. The table is a bit wide, so you have to land your forelegs on the opposite bench first, then your back legs curl up to step on it, and your forelegs land on the grass, your back legs following suit. This time, you fall to a screeching halt, satisfied at the sheer thrill. You pull the table back into your living room, then re-enter your house, just as it begins to drizzle. Glad that your fur won't mat in the rain!
Nature calls at the most inopportune moment. You rush to the toilet, and kick the stool to in front of the toilet, climb your forelegs on the stool, your back half to sit on the toilet seat, then release yourself. Curious, you bend your upper torso down, through between your front legs, and get a glimpse of what's going on "down there", but it's so dark you see nothing. Oh well. You step down, make a U-turn, flush the toilet, wash your hand pass, and leave the toilet.
Resting your back half on the sofa, with your front half standing straight (similar to the first time you used the toilet) you feel lethargic, and the strumming noise of the drizzle only pulls you further into the lure of sleep. Your hindquarters hoist your upper torso and front legs up onto your sofa, and your lower body adopts a lying position, your upper torso lain across the lower torso with your head right on your butt.
This nap was refreshing, but you remember that you have a project to continue. You return to your computer desk, continuing your work with your back half sitting on the floor while your front half stands up. This puts heavy pressure on your forelegs, but you managed to endure until dawn.
You climb up the stairs, and return to your bed, curl up with your head on your butt, and fall into sleep again. This time, you dream about yourself in a party, only that you are in your current greyhound form. Awkwardly, you try to leave, but everyone only pats your head, rubs your lower back, and scratches your chin. However satisfying this instinctively feels, this dehumanizing fate is definitely one that you would sooner or later fall uncomfortable with.
Waking up, you undo the zipper on your waist, take off the costume, and feel your head return to a human shape and your back half disconnecting. Folding it up, you return the costume to the hidden compartment, and actually engage a mechanism that disguises the compartment. If the next owner of this table somehow finds this out, they're in for a surprise. For the meantime, you allow yourself to lose all memory of the costume once again. Some things are better reminisced than re-experienced, you rationalize, and walk out the front door, ready for another round of daily errands.
THE END