It was a brisk day as Douglas, Jackie and I rolled up snowballs in Jackie's large backyard as we attempted to make an igloo. As I focused on thinking about how to set up the next layer of the walls, I could almost settle into this like it was normal. It was something that I was familiar with from years of playing in the snow as a kid.

Except the three of us were dog people. Dog people who, apart from Douglas, still in the process of growing his fur, weren't wearing any protection against the cold. I dreaded the summer months where I'd be lugging around my fur coat in the heat - but I felt surprisingly comfortable at the moment. Even as I exerted myself, though I'd had to shed my jacket due to the heat, I wasn't getting all sweaty as I was used to from doing stuff in past winters.

For once, I didn't object to the panting. Licking my nose kept it warm too.

I looked over as Douglas used a plastic tub for making wide bricks of snow for the upper layers of the igloo. He'd formed a full snout by this point. Only today though had he started feeling the instinct to lick it, and he still looked unwary when he had to do it. Light colored fur had started growing all over him. It seemed that Lexi was turning into a husky, and Douglas would too.

Dad told me that the original cancer treatment had been a cocktail of sorts of different dogs, rather than as simple as one breed. Once someone contracted the virus, it seemed to fixate on one of the breeds. When they transmitted it, the person who contracted it usually became the same breed.

Douglas and Lexi took it as a sign that they should stick together. I, however, was not sure how I felt about my fellow golden retriever.

Even as the three of us struggled under the weight of all this... Jackie was happy. I was starting to realize as I caught little hints that the Jackie I was used to seeing, who had been forced into coming to social gatherings, was not in her element there. Outside however, doing stuff like we were now, that was where she felt the most at home. I wished I'd known earlier.

I felt extremely awkward around her - more so than I’d felt around girls in general. Now we had a history.

I was at a loss however about where to go from here. I'd tried several times to find the opportunity to hold her hand - but we weren't walking somewhere - and we weren't sitting still either. We were all going around in our separate directions to gather snow.

All I could do was smile at her. I bit back the embarrassment when she'd smile back, and I'd happily wag my tail. It wasn't so much just that I was wagging it - Jackie had become a bit less shy about wagging her own tail - I dared say it almost looked cute when she did - it was more of how obvious my tail wagging was a result of thinking about her. Even with the fur on my cheeks, I was not safe from what blushing had previously done.

"I have decided," Jackie said as we finished the third layer of the igloo, "that doing nothing but sleeping for two days since I got home has given me superpowers. Lifting this much snow would've had me sweating literal bullets last winter."

I didn't point out that it was probably the panting more than anything. By this point, everyone was well aware about all the dog stuff - it was annoying to point out the obvious.

There was also the matter that I was slowly succumbing to it. Ashley and I had finally been able to have normal conversations where she didn't seem to be staring at me. I'd wake up in the morning, see myself in the mirror, and think "yes, that dog in the mirror is me" - and not feel weird about it. My floppy fur covered ears poked through holes in my wool hat - and the same went for Jackie - and it felt... normal to me.

Part of my hesitance since getting home in regard to Jackie was how she was adapting. I expected her to seem distraught. Sorrowful. But she wasn't. She was wagging her tail with a smile on her face.

"What are you doing staring at me?"

I suddenly came to, realizing that I had, in fact, been staring at her. I looked around, but Douglas wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Where'd Douglas go?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Inside to go to the bathroom," she said, "now what were you starin' at?"

With no other alternative, I told the truth. "I dunno," I shrugged. "You... you just are taking this really well."

Her tail stopped wagging, and pulled against her bashfully.

"You.... you like it don't you?" I asked.

She nodded in shame.

"You do you," I said, "just... I just feel a bit uneasy about it."

Jackie, to my surprise, suddenly burst into crying.

"I love it," she said. "I know that's a bizarre freakish thing to say... but I love it. I.... I always wanted to.... to be a furry. Like a real one."
I stood silently, trying to decide whether I should comfort her or not.

".... okay this is going to make it sound weirder,” she went on, “but I... I've felt... more like myself since I started changing. I feel like in retrospect... like I was uncomfortable as my human self. I don't know if I'm making stuff up, or... or if it's some... inner identity thing I have... gosh that makes me sound like I'm saying I believe in magic or something. I just..."

I hugged her, and kissed her briefly. "Then that's okay Jackie. You... you seem happier. I want to... I want to understand how you feel."

“You... you what?"

"I want to help you be happy," I said, not quite thinking about my words, "I want to... I want to be there for you."

Jackie whispered something.

"What?" I asked.

"... embrace it."

I looked down at myself - at my fur covered arms, and paw-like hands. My vision honed in on my snout - that I'd learn to mentally ignore.

"When you are at your best Matt," she said softly, "you... you remind me of the dog my family had when I was a kid. Dusty was a golden retriever too. He... he always was there for me. After... after that night... I couldn't stop thinking about how you gave me that feeling again. I don't know what I'm saying, it's just.... this feels.... like who you are too."

I felt a bit startled at that. Why on earth would I ever be a dog on the inside? Jackie was saying that she wasn't talking about some sort of supernatural stuff, but was she thinking of some ancient native american animal spirit thing? I just didn't know. I did feel like myself though. And... and I did... maybe like some things about this. I was going to be part golden retriever for the rest of my life. Even if they found a cure, I'd have probably shaped my life so much around all of this, to the point that I'm not sure I could go back.

"You're right Jackie," I said. "At least, I'm not sure if I would've wanted this before... but... I still feel like myself. If this is going to be my life... I may as well accept it. Be happy in it."

"Does that mean...," Jackie asked, "that you... aren't going to take a cure if they found it?"

"What?"

She seemed to inwardly shrink. "If... if they found a cure tomorrow... would you... change back?"
Realization came over me. "Jackie... I... really like you... but if that happens...."

Tears began to trickle down Jackie's furry cheeks.

"I... I want to be with you Jackie.... like... your boyfriend," I said very cautiously, unsure of how she'd respond. "Even if you are a dog person."

Jackie winced. "You don't understand do you?"

"Don't understand what?"

".... never mind," she said wiping her runny nose. She paused realizing that doing that made her fur kind of gross, "Douglas saw me crying and is staying inside to give me privacy. Let's -"

"No," I said softly. Carefully. "What... what are you thinking about? We can talk, it’s fine."

She blinked away a few tears.

"The virus...," she said, "it.... it transmits... in certain ways."

My bones trembled. It took me a moment to steady myself.

"Um," I said, running my hand through the human hair part of my head, "okay."

Jackie turned away from me and swore under her breath.

"Look," I said, "it's okay, I'm not... upset... or I don't feel awkward or anything. We think about things like this sometimes. But we're in high school. There are years ahead before you need to worry about that."

Jackie sobbed. "So. We've scarcely become a couple and you're already planning our break up?"

I put my hands up defensively. "No, nothing like that. I'm just saying that it's not healthy to be so fixated on this being your only option."

"You think I'm weird," she cried harder. "Even for a dog girl.”

"No no no," I hugged her again, "I'm just saying that as people get to know each other, sometimes they realize that they aren't exactly compatible."

"So you want to find someone with the exact same interests as you apparently? If you're searching for some soulmate, you're going to be awfully disappointed."

"No," I said, "it's just... I dunno. Little things. People might not get along very well personality wise, or just they're annoyed by little quirks the other is doing -"

"And how do you know these things Matthew Hewitt?" Jackie asked, "I’m not forgetting that you've only been on a few dates. I know that I was your first kiss."

I sighed. "Okay. I don't know everything about relationships. I just... I just don't want us to hurt each other's feelings later on if we decide it doesn't work out."

Jackie pulled off her hat solemnly. I watched her hold it for a moment in silence, then she used it to wipe her eyes. Her ears twitched, and drooped close to her head for a moment as a cold breeze blew. I felt my ears act similarly.

"What was it," Jackie said, shivering from crying, "that you told me about optimism?"

I wasn't sure whether her implication was that I was being a hypocrite... or just something else.

"Look Matt," she cried a bit more, "i know that I'm just some crazy high school girl, that's more insane because she wanted to be a dog. I know that I don't understand the world... but what you said to me that day... I'd thought that you were a cute guy in the past... but I saw who you could be more privately. I... I opened up to you, and I felt like... finally someone understood me.”

I caught my tongue before I defaulted to cautioning her about realistic expectations. But why did I care about that? I was sticking to it like I was arguing some point and I didn't want to lose. And what was my goal with arguing? I didn't want to argue. Jackie was an honestly cute girl. Maybe she looked even better as a dog - especially as she’d grown to be more cheerful and bubbly. I wanted to validate that, to help tell her that was okay.

I felt really odd. This wasn't the odd feeling of becoming a dog. Or the odd, yet incredible feeling of kissing a girl for the first time. It was the feeling of that for the first time in my life, I was focusing on caring about someone else more than myself. Not just for something small like getting them a birthday present. Not just giving them some advice. I found myself feeling that I really did want to be there for her. And... I wanted her to be there for me.

But I just felt… so nervous about making such a long term commitment. Jackie had gotten it in her mind that I was not fully supporting who she was if I ever chose to change back. Intertwined was the implication that our relationship was not going to end after high school. I just… I didn’t understand her.

That thought immediately made me feel guilt - that she was sure that we had a connection - and that maybe I didn’t get her like she thought I did. Maybe I wasn’t right for her. There were, for good and for ill, going to be many people who contracted the virus. There were certainly other furries. Would they understand her better?

And was it right for me to really cave so quickly? Part of being a mature person was to respect the choices of others. You can’t live your life trying to please everyone. You have to balance it with what you yourself wanted.

What did I want?

I looked down, wiggling my fur covered toes in the snow. I looked up at my girlfriend. Looking into her eyes was an intimidating complexity. I didn’t know what she was going through. But I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to try to be the best boyfriend I could.

I hugged her close, and kissed her.

"I love you Jackie. I don't know where this will go... but if this is who you really are... then this is who I am too."

I gave it all up. All the inhibitions. All the fears. I was a dog person - and I was going to embrace that. Even if it meant having twitchy ears. Even if it meant lapping out of a bowl. That's who I was going to be.

Jackie buried her head into the fur of my chest. Even as we stood in the cold, as the sun was sinking down, I felt warm against her.

"I love you," she whispered.

I scratched her behind the ears, wagging my tail.


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