The gentleman in the yellow shirt was one of those folks
that you constantly notice from the corner of your eye.
You know the type- he's that guy that tries to watch you
without being obvious. Every time you look over, he looks
away. Then you catch him staring, and the jig is up.

One grand benefit of wearing a fursuit is that it gives you an
important super power: the ability to make eye contact
with someone without their knowledge. That sounds creepy,
but it comes in handy. It's kind of like being able to read minds,
without the exposure to scenes you might file under TMI.

This lovely fellow stood at the far end of the bar, nursing his
vodka-and-whatever, stealing amazed glances at Desoto and I
as we mingled with the humans. I noticed that he was alone,
and that he wore a pleased expression as he peeped
over the rim of his glass. I expected him to sidle over, ask
the usual "what's this all about" questions, then slide away
with an interesting story to tell his buddies. To my surprise,
he remained aloof, content to sip and watch.

As always happens, Desoto and I were soon dragged away by the
voracious humans, fodder for pictures and Facebook posts.
When we were finally able to return to the bar, Mr. Yellowshirt was
gone. I've developed a reluctant sixth sense when it comes to
public fursuiting; I've wiggled into a position to connect with those
who really want to know what the suit represents.
I was sad that my yellow buddy and I hadn't had the chance
to have a drink and a chat.

Soldiering on, I ordered another cold Corona for myself and a
Barq's for Desoto. We spoke with a nice group of young ladies
celebrating a win in their bowling league, and when I turned back
to the bar, there was my yellow pal, standing just a few feet away.

I took a slug of Mexico's finest, and ambled over to introduce
myself. "Hello my friend!" I exclaimed, perhaps too loudly.
"Are you enjoying this fine afternoon?" I groomed my whiskers
and watched his face as it bloomed into a huge smile.
I doubt that he'd ever been approached by a talking dog, let
alone one clutching a cold beer in a big paw.

"OK, you got me." He said. "I couldn't leave until I heard the story.
What the heck are you guys up to?"
I smiled and gestured at my beer. "We're enjoying a drink on
this sunny afternoon, relaxing and meeting new friends like yourself."
He pursed his lips and looked me in the nostrils.
"But what's the angle? What are you guys after?"

I gave him my "We're furries and we do this because we love it"
speech, covering the whys and wherefores of fursuiting.
When I was done he thought hard and shook his head.
"So you paid hundreds or thousands for these get-ups, only to
walk around, sweat excessively, and hope to make a few folks smile?"
I nodded. "Yup"

I sipped my beer and let him digest that information for a moment.
I was surprised when I saw his face transform,
and a far away look cloud his eyes.
He wrinkled his brow and asked slowly "Can I tell you something? Something important? Something in confidence?"
I nodded until my plastic nose bounced.

"I hit rock bottom last year." He began. "Drugs almost ruined my
life. I was down to one friend, and that was my dog. He stuck by me
through it all. He never asked for anything in return, and he gave
his all, everyday, just to make me smile."
He continued for several minutes about the stark horror of drug addiction,
and he opened up in ways that I think even surprised himself.
I shall omit those details in deference to his request.

I blinked and put my paw on his shoulder. I couldn't think of what
to say. He continued. "What you're doing is sort of like that. If
dogs were able, they would mingle with us in bars and
buy us drinks and tell silly stories just to make us smile.
So thank you. I'm going home to hug my dog now."

I was stunned. Just when I thought I had heard it all, this chap
gave me another reason to fursuit. It's what dogs would do
if they could!

He agreed to stop for a quick pic, and then he was off for home
and an extended pooch hug.

I returned to the bar, glad to be the recipient of such a fine
compliment. If my demeanor and my actions reminded him of
what a real dog might do, then I was doing something right.
I sipped my beer and posed for another photo, feeling
more dog-like all the time. I smiled as I imagined my own mutts
out for an afternoon of bar hopping, chatting up the crowd and
giving the happy paws to everyone they met.

Every interaction gives something important back to me.
Every person I meet, every story I hear, every smile I see,
make this endeavor incredibly fulfilling.

And, that night, when I returned to being just another human,
you can be darn sure that I gave my mutts the biggest hugs ever.