Brian stared at the flyer intently, as if there was anything else to be learned from it than the four simple words written on it: "NEIGHBORHOOD MEETING - 10 PM". It wasn't as if his vision had gotten any worse. The past few days, ever since his reshaping body had forced him down onto all fours, he'd been dreading the moment that the color would drain out of his sight, or much worse, when he would lose the ability to read. But it never came. He could understand those words just fine, but he kept staring down at them, trying to guess at how bad things had really gotten out there. "You don't seriously think we should go to this thing, do you?"
Catherine was lazing on the couch in the next room, trying to enjoy some of the fourteen hours of sleep that her modified body now demanded each day. "Of course I do! The whole neighborhood will be figuring out their new lives and their new bodies together. I've been dealing with this longer than any of them - I've got plenty of advice to give. Why wouldn't I want to be there for that?"
"Uh, maybe because all of this is our fault?!", Brian barked in reply. "Aren't you worried they'll figure out that we started it? And, I mean, what if they already know it's us? Maybe the whole meeting thing is a trap, and the whole neighborhood is gonna get their revenge on us!"
Jumping down off the couch, Catherine was coming over to nuzzle her husband, which he didn't find nearly as calming as she seemed to. "First of all, Brian," she said, "don't blame yourself for this. This is all my fault." The tone of the growls and barks that had replaced her speech was playful, not guilt-ridden, which only disturbed Brian more. And her tail was wagging widely enough that it bopped him on the snout as she came up. "And second, I saw the dog who was going door-to-door dropping off those flyers earlier. You need to get into watching out the window, Brian, I get why dogs do it now. Better than TV. Anyway, he had the papers all in his mouth and he was sliding them under people's doors one by one. It's not like it was made just for us."
It was dark and eerily silent that night as 10 o'clock approached. All down their block, nobody was leaving their TV on full blast anymore. No cars were pulling in or out of driveways, and no children were playing in the street. If Brian didn't know better, he would have assumed that everyone had been safely evacuated and the two of them were left alone in an abandoned neighborhood. But in fact, it was just the opposite. No one could leave, unless they showed that they had no symptoms of the virus, and by now everyone in the area must have been infected. And how were they dealing with it? As much as he wanted to avoid it, Brian was about to see for himself.
With some effort, Catherine got up on her hind legs and pulled the front door open. Brian wished he'd had time to install a doggy door before he'd lost his opposable thumbs. The two huskies walked side-by-side, Brian still bearing a few small patches of furless skin, his wife's transformation long since completed. But as soon as they started to approach the crowd of dogs, assembled on the asphalt under the spotlight of the last streetlamp still functioning, Brian pulled away from Catherine's side and walked toward the group from a different angle. He didn't know what was about to happen, but he figured he might not want to be associated with Catherine if things went awry.
It was a strange sight: dozens of dogs, of all different breeds and sizes, gathered in one place and sitting perfectly still, none of them play-fighting or sniffing each other's butts. Some of them still had a few visible traces of their humanity - here and there, a foot instead of a paw, a pair of eyeglasses balanced awkwardly on a snout - but the virus had nearly completed its work by now. As Brian trudged through the crowd looking for an open space to sit, he thought he recognized some of the dogs from the park weeks ago. But it was impossible to tell at this point which of the dogs had started out as dogs and which ones were former humans. Some of them were wearing collars, but that wasn't exactly proof that they were always dogs. Maybe they were just remarkably quick to accept their new species.
Most of the dogs were quietly waiting for whatever this meeting was to begin, but Brian's newly sensitive ears could pick up snippets of hushed conversations. "Mom, I'm scared," whined a small German shepherd puppy, shivering between a larger dog's legs. "I know, honey, I know," said the adult German shepherd soothingly, "but this is important! Maybe we're about to find out how we can become human again." Brian felt sick when he heard that. It hadn't occurred to him that even little kids would be getting caught up in this epidemic. The question that had been bothering him for the past few weeks jabbed at his brain again: how could the woman he loved inflict this virus on so many people? Even if there was a cure right around the corner - and if there was, Catherine hadn't bothered to tell him about it - it seemed frankly cruel to let a whole neighborhood get transformed against their will, especially without advance warning.
Brian's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a throat loudly clearing. He, and all the others, turned to look at the source of the sound. In the center of the crowd, a chihuahua had climbed up on the back of a Great Dane (which looked annoyed) and was now using its elevated head as a podium. And when the chihuahua spoke, it was a little disorienting. In the same way that Brian could hear Catherine's normal human voice when he listened to her canine barking, the chihuahua's high-pitched yipping and squeaking somehow translated into the deep, commanding voice that this man must have had when he was still human - think James Earl Jones.
"I don't think I need to explain why I called this meeting," the chihuahua said. "We all know what's going on at this point. This so-called pandemic, rather than simply making us sick, has turned us all into animals. And, to make matters worse, we're trapped in these few city blocks. The authorities aren't letting anybody in or out anymore, even if they were still fully human. Well, it's about time that we stopped cowering in our homes and started making some plans! If we put our heads together and brainstorm, I'm confident we can get ourselves out of here and get back to humanity!"
For a moment, it was quiet again, the dogs all eyeing each other nervously. Then, a beagle - one ear floppy, the other still mostly human-looking - raised a paw and broke the silence. "This has all got to be coming from the military base outside of town, right? They're always messing with stuff in that lab of theirs. They must have accidentally let something get loose and start infecting people. If we all just sit tight, surely they'll bring us the cure as soon as they have one!"
That was met with a chorus of boos and angry growls. "Yeah, right!", snarled a Doberman. "If they were coming back to help us, don't you think they would have said something by now? We've got to face the facts, people - they're leaving all of us here to die! All we've got to rely on now is ourselves. So we better find a way to get out of this prison of a neighborhood quick, before they wipe us all out, and then tell our families they're conspiracy theorists for asking any questions..."
"They can't cover this up now," interjected a greyhound. "I may have, um, posted a bunch of pictures of myself online while I was changing. And, I mean, they didn't exactly go viral, but a lot more people saw them than my other nud- um, other posts. So there's already people on the outside who know what's happening here, even if it might not be the type of attention we want... Hey, uh, speaking of which, has anyone else been feeling sort of... overheated lately? Like there's this pent-up energy you just need to, um, release somehow?"
"Tell me about it!", cried a female golden retriever, while most of the other dogs reacted with (or at least feigned) disgust. Her fur rubbed needily against a similar-looking male as she spoke. "Even with Scout here to help me out, it's just been overpowering ever since I finished changing!" She cleared her throat. "So, um, how's everybody feeling about all this? 'Cuz, I mean, if I'm being honest, turning into a dog might be the best thing that's ever happened to me!"
And that provoked an even more ferocious response than what the beagle said - howls and yelps of disagreement from every corner of the crowd. "Speak for yourself!", snapped a bulldog who happened to be closest to the pair of goldens. "This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me, hands down! And don't say something stupid like 'paws down'. I can tell you're thinking it... Anyway, I haven't slept a wink since I started changing! Every part of my body is in the wrong place, and I can't stop thinking about it! I mean, we don't even have fucking fingers anymore! But the worst part of it all... I had to let my cat run away, the sweetest little thing, because she was so afraid of me! And I knew I couldn't stop myself from chasing her away..."
"Oh, don't tell me you're a cat person," said a neatly-trimmed poodle who was sitting just behind the bulldog, her voice haughty. "No wonder you're feeling so frustrated. Well, we're all dog-people now, and some of us know how to appreciate the canine form for what it is. I certainly didn't ask to become an animal, either, but at least I picked this thing up from one of my purebreds. I suggest that we all think of this as a unique opportunity to view the world from a different perspective for a while."
"People, please!" The imposing chihuahua was pounding his paw against the Great Dane's ear like it was a gavel, at least until the larger dog shook its head and made him stop. "We've got to stay focused! All of us... or almost all of us... can agree that we want to be human again as soon as possible. But if we're ever going to get that, we need answers. And if none of us know where this species-changing virus came from or how to cure it, then we need to find someone who does. Now, if anybody has any more ideas-"
"Whoever said the virus is coming from the military base, you must be right." The interrupting voice was one that Brian immediately recognized. He turned and saw Catherine sitting on the opposite side of the crowd, her cold blue husky eyes fixed on him as she spoke. "It's the only explanation that makes any sense. And even if they didn't start this on purpose, they must know what's happening to us. We've got to get out of here and sneak into their lab. They won't be keen on helping us, but we've definitely got them outnumbered. We'll corner them when they're least expecting it, and force them to give us the cure or else get mauled! It's either that, or we stay right here and go stir-crazy in our new bodies. What do you say?"
Brian shook his head. Of course Catherine would have a whole plan of attack ready to go. He wondered what else his wife knew about all this that she still wasn't letting on. Well, if she could hide her ulterior motives while barking orders to the other dogs... two could play at that game. "You're forgetting, the quarantine was set up for a reason," Brian shouted, returning his wife's steely gaze with his own from across the crowd. "We're all contagious now. Do we really want to spread the same suffering we've experienced to the whole town, maybe beyond? Wouldn't it be the right thing to do to just stay where we are until we know there's a cure?"
But his warning fell on deaf ears, and Brian was quickly outvoted by the group at large. They seemed to think that, as long as they didn't come into close contact with any uninfected humans on their way out of the neighborhood, they could keep the disease in check. They were failing to realize that most of them had gotten sick without making particularly close contact with anyone who was infected. Staying six feet apart wasn't going to cut it for a virus like this. Brian felt the dread creeping over his reshaped shoulder as he listened to the other dogs make their plans for escape.
"My backyard fence runs right up against the perimeter they've closed off," offered a Saint Bernard. "And I've been getting really good at digging holes lately. Tunneling underneath would be way easier than trying to climb over the barrier."
"You can say that again," replied a panting pug.
"We've got to make our move under the cover of night," said Catherine, who now seemed to have taken over the discussion with her confident directions. "There's no way we'll get past the guards otherwise. And we're all in agreement, aren't we?" She had dozens of eyes looking to her now as their salvation, but she still focused on her worried husband, meeting his dismayed expression with a smirk. "We can do it tonight. Let's blow this popsicle stand."