A man and his bitch are transformed into furrys

Habit is a wonderful thing–until the unusual happens.

Without opening my eyes I pulled Kyla into a hug and whispered “Good morning, Kyla.”

“Good morning, David. Sleep well?” Her nose touched mine in a gentle kiss.

“Of course. You tired me out last night.”

“Good.”

That was when my mind caught up with events. Remember my comment about habits? For seven years my lover and I had been greeting mornings with a hug, my whispered ‘good morning’ and her nose-to-nose kiss.

A conversation with Kyla had NEVER been a part of that greeting, for a very good reason.

She’s a bitch.

Who was I sharing my bed with, that she would know our morning ritual so well–and answer to my lover’s name?

I opened my eyes.

Kyla’s muzzle.

Kyla’s familiar smile.

Kyla’s eyes, filled with a familiar humor. “David, you look good with a muzzle. I’ve always felt you are more dog than human.”

“Muzzle? I love you, Kyla and it’s wonderful to have a dream like this… But eventually we’ll both wake up and return to what we are.”

“It’s not a dream.”

I sighed, partly in pain. “Kyla. Be reasonable. I’m a man. You’re a bitch. That’s what we’ve been all our lives. We can’t suddenly become furrys while we’re sleeping–and live happily ever after. That’s the stuff dreams are made of.”

“David. I wasn’t asleep when it happened.” Her ears went flat. “She asked me to choose if I wanted us to become true mates, with long lives ahead of us. Neither one of us was what we appeared to be. Did I make a mistake when I asked for these bodies?”

I closed my eyes and thought about what she’d said. After seven years of living with her, I knew her body language so well that she couldn’t lie to me and get away with it. I also trusted her judgment more than I did my own. If Kyla said this was reality, it had to be reality. End of debate.

I hugged her again. “You didn’t make a mistake.” I opened my eyes and touched her nose with mine. Understanding refused to come so I settled for habit, instead. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Her ears perked again. “Not dog food!”

* * *

Once in the hallway we could smell food cooking. I looked at Kyla and asked the obvious question: “Who’s cooking breakfast?”

She shrugged. “Her. I’m hungry, let’s go eat.”

When we entered the dining area a petite Irish Setter looked up from her half eaten meal. “Get your food. Sit. Enjoy. Plenty of time to ask questions after you eat.” She went back to eating.

It was my turn to shrug. “Be nice if I knew what questions to ask. Thanks.” We served ourselves and settled at the table.

While Kyla and I were eating our first helpings the setter managed to eat two more full plates of food. When she sat down after getting the third platefull she caught my eyes and laughed. “Takes a lot of energy to help folks find their true reality. I’ll burn this off when I go back to work this evening.”

“Find their true reality?”

She stopped and pointed her muzzle at each of us. “Dramatic words to describe a mundane job. David, you and Kyla earned a chance to choose a better life, that’s all.” She looked down and her ears twitched sideways, then back in our direction. “Won’t always be easier or without pain but you’ll manage. Immortals always find workable solutions. It helps when they’ve already had lots of practice.”

Kyla laughed. ” ‘Workable solutions’? Yes, we’ve spent seven years finding them. Now that we can really understand each other, life will be a lot easier.”

She and I looked at each other and I finally grinned. “Yep. I also imagine there will be changes in our relationship now that it’s two-way and not limited by having to imerse ourselves in a culture not of our making.” I stopped when I realized I was making an assumption. “We haven’t left this house. What’s ‘out there’?”

The setter didn’t look up from her eating. “Finish eating. Then we’ll talk–as long as you need to.”

She raised her head and grinned at me. “What’s your hurry, anyway? ‘Nobody here but us immortals’.”

It sank in and I turned to stare at Kyla. “You said ‘long lives’.”

She was the picture of puzzled canine innocence. ” ‘Immortal’ means ‘long lives’, doesn’t it?”

There was a snort from across the table. I sighed. “It does. However, ‘long lives’ doesn’t mean ‘immortal’.”

“Oh.” She looked thoughtful as she went back to eating breakfast.

* * *

I thought I wasn’t hungry but I finished two plates of food anyway. I was chasing the last of the gravy with some toast when I realized I hadn’t had any trouble eating.

I looked up and noticed the setter watching me, with a bit of amusement in her eyes.

“Feel better? I’m Tara, your friendly miracle worker–and fellow immortal. Figured out any of those questions?”

I glanced at Kyla, who was quietly using a brush to groom her fur. “Yeah. How come I was able to eat without problems?”

Tara’s smile was infectious. “Simple. Body memory. Next question?”

Kyla reached over and touched my arm. “David. Let it go. Do the details really matter if we have forever?” Her eyes held mine as she tightened her grip on my arm. “Can’t you be the dog you are and *accept*?”

I winced and put one of my hands on hers. “I’ll try.” She nodded and let go of my arm. I turned back to Tara. “What do we do now?”

She tilted her head and studied me. When she spoke next there was something that sounded vaguely like pleased approval. “Anything, or nothing. Kyla said it best: ‘accept’.”

She vanished.

I sighed. “Well, I suppose I deserved that.”