This photo is courtesy of the very wonderful

The original submission can be found here:
www.furaffinity.net/view/9839325/

Why am I re-posting this image?
This picture is one that I think about quite often,
and one that my over-active
mutt brain uses for a reference when my daydreams
of talking animals get the best of me.

I suppose that every one of us has his or her own
notion of what the term “furry” means.
For me, it boils down to the idea that evolution could have
taken two paths towards higher intelligence.

Let me elaborate:
What if canines had evolved at a rate equal to
the primates? What if these two species had climbed
the ladder of cortex development hand in paw?
My interpretation of this idea is why I’m interested in exploring
the notion of the benevolent talking dog in a setting
that is as close to real life as I can make it.

Image along with me, will you?

The earth has two dominant life forms, sharing the
complexities of modern existence side by side.
The human race, with all of our conniving and
dishonesty, is supplemented and offset by intelligent
canines, canines who are capable of spoken language,
rational thought, and great wisdom.
Most importantly, the canines would carry their traits of
unbiased love and open-heartedness with them, leading by
example and providing a balance for the human race.
And yes, the canines would spend lots of time in pubs,
being jolly and singing off-color barroom chants.
But I digress…

So here you have two equal populations, living parallel
lives, and providing a symbiosis sorely needed to prevent
the hatred that has plagued us for millennia.

I don’t think nature got things quite right, and I want
to do a little to help steer us in a better direction.
I get great satisfaction out of being the talking dog
that is friendly and kind to everyone; the mutt that
doesn’t care what you look like or where your social status
falls and that crazy pooch who just loves everyone.
I fursuit in incongruous settings because it frees people’s
minds to accept that random kindness is really possible…
and to get free beer.
But I digress once again.

This is the reason that I wander far from conventions,
often on my own. This is the reason that I trot around
the city streets, visit the bars, chat with random strangers
and try to provide a smile and hug whenever I can.

Yes, some people view my behavior as kooky or
eccentric, and shy away from an encounter with the
crazy guy in the dog suit. Some folks view me a novelty,
thinking that I will charge them a buck for taking a picture,
or that I’m selling cologne or condos. Some think I’m making
a commercial, advertising for sandwich shop, or walking to
a kid’s birthday party.
And that’s all fine, because a surprising number of people really get it.

They get what I’m trying to do!
They buy into the notion that I’m a conversant mutt who’s
interested in their lives and really wants to see them smile.
They understand that the world could use more interactions
of this nature, and they participate in the ruse to the extent
that it becomes real for both of us.

Sometimes I’m the nutty middle aged guy in the dog costume,
but sometimes I get to be so much more…

Do I endorse fursuiting by yourself in a crowded venue?
Well, no, but I’m a cagey old mutt and I’ve had good
success so far.
Risks are inherent in life and I’ll take a few to get the
results I want.

Anyway, back to this image.
Here I am walking the streets of San Jose,
no destination in particular and no agenda other than to
act natural and see what happens.
Admittedly, this is California, and folks are typically accepting,
so my reception from the public was warm and welcoming.
I am the biggest dork you ever want to meet, and I’m able
to laugh at myself and take a good ribbing if the situation
arises, but truly that is very rare.

Mainly, the folks that do want to interact have active
minds and supple imaginations, and the feeling that I
get from these adventures is something that I treasure
and re-live every day.

You may see me ambling about, a mile or two from a
convention, silly smile plastered on my canine face,
and wonder “what the hell is wrong with that guy?”
I’m fine, I swear. I’m just interpreting my version
of what it means to be a furry.

So honk and wave and imagine a world where
talking animals roam the streets in real life, not
just in the confines of a hotel.

I think this reality is just what we need.
And I think I hear a barroom chant coming from
just around the next block…