George stood pondering the strange sight playing out into front of him. Was he dead and looking down at himself like in the Tv movies? No, he saw his body move, eyes flash of fear, and then try to scramble away on a fours. This was crazy, a dream, but no he was awake
feeling, hearing, a pungent taste of metal in his mouth. The cool mountain breeze flushed over him and chills of sensual delights touch him all over.
Becky's calls to him beconed him to speak but each time he tried the most horendous sound emitted from his throat. As he stood there looking on these odd sensations seemed to suggest different body movements, shaking his head voilently, stomping a foot hard, flicking his tail whether from itchy flies or just to stroke a sensual part.
"Tail!"
The word had a meaning but as quick as the word was thought of, it seemed as so much else to just fade into some vast dark space. Odd, so very odd the feelings about himself as if he was not clothed. Yet then too as he thought of clothes the meaning of such also drifted off.
"George!"
That's my name he kept thinking, but the word Sampson also brought back fond thoughts of care and food. A turn to his right found himself face to face with one of those big horses. Even as he looked the strange hues of red, blue and powder shades whites took the place of vast colors which he'd known before.
The jingle of chains and rings of steel, plus the restraint of movement by dark colored straps made his movements short but often quick. As he looked into the horses face it opened it's mouth, showing great green teeth and gums. As if to bite him the animal made a lunge for him face.