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Christmas has always been my favorite time of year, and even though I am a 13 year old, I still believe in Santa. A little childish you say? Well sit back and let me tell you my tale, and by the time I'm done, I'll bet you will believe in Santa too.

My name is Sam, and I've always been a little different from the other kids. I have a few unique traits that set me apart from the rest of my family. And I would wager most of my friends.

The most obvious one is that I am left handed. Only about 10% of the people in the world are, so that alone makes me kind of special. It has its drawbacks, like having to adapt to everything in this right handed world, and always bumping elbows at dinner, but it's a small price to pay.

The other is not so obvious, but it has a more dramatic effect on my life. I have dysgraphia. I know, I know, you've never heard of it. That's okay, most people don't know what it is. Let me explain it for you. You see, it's what they call a learning disability. It doesn't affect my intelligence, but it has a big effect on my ability to write.

It causes me problems with forming and sizing my letters correctly, correctly spacing letters and words, reversing letters, and using capital letters correctly. I often omit letters or even whole words from sentences. It also causes me trouble with spelling and grammar.

I often end up writing in a mix of print and cursive, and unless I concentrate really hard, it often is completely unreadable. Even for me. It's kind of crazy because I can see what I want to write in my head, but for some reason I just can't make it come out right on the paper.

I'm not sure what causes it. The doctor says it's like poor wiring in the brain. I liken it to the telephone game. The message starts out fine, but by the time it gets to my hands it's all messed up, just a mishmash of haphazardly drawn letters with a few random capitals peppered in for good measure.

I've had people tell me I'm lazy, or I just need more practice, but whatever I do, it doesn't really seem to help. I've been getting help in school. I'm pulled out of my regular classes to work with a specialist. We've made some progress, but at this rate I'll die of old age before I can write, what to most people, is a simple essay.

I keep hoping it will go away on its own, but I'm told that I'll have it for life. Oh well, who needs to be able to write anyway? It's not like it's a basic skill or anything. Not like I'm going to be using it in class, or at a job, or to make shopping lists. Nah, that would never happen.

The only thing that ever really helped me was typing. Whenever the teachers let me type a paper I would get a great grade on it. Usually an A or B+, as opposed to the normal C- or D I would get from a hand written paper. Sometimes the difference was so stark, my teachers would accuse me of having someone else write it.

Often the specialist had to step in and help explain to them why it was so different from my other work. I can't begin to tell you how many times I was almost suspended for cheating. It made me wonder if it was all really worth the effort.

Thanks to my writing, my grades often suffered. I was a smart kid, but it often didn't show up in what I handed in to the teacher. Writing was so difficult I often used simple sentences with as few words as I could to get the point across. I would often cross out whole sentences and start over because I couldn't spell a word. Sometimes I would spell it differently each time I used it. As you can probably imagine it was beyond frustrating.

I did have some accommodations in class, I was supposed to get extra time on my assignments, and even give my answers orally, but they often went unheeded. Only a few of my teachers followed my IEP (my individual educational plan). They were supposed to follow it by law, and we had filed formal complaints, but as usual the wheels turn slowly.

The school year was well underway, and It was getting close to Christmas. I was glad for the upcoming break. I'd have a whole week off with no assignments and no writing to worry about. My mother promised me she would get me my own computer so I could finally type all my assignments. I never imagined I'd be so happy to get a school supply for Christmas.

The weeks seem to pass slowly. It didn't help that because of my grades I'd ended up being placed in some of the lower educational tracks. Not the remedial stuff yet, but I could tell that wasn't far off. I knew I should be doing so much more, but it seemed like the system was stacked against me.

There were barriers at every turn, and just when I thought something was going my way, there was always some catch. I had about as much luck as a black cat in a room full of rocking chairs with broken mirror shards all over the ground. Over the top? maybe, but that's honestly the way it was starting to feel.

Mom could tell that the pressure was getting to me, and decided we should have a little fun to relax. She had my sister and I make out our Christmas lists. I had Mom write mine out so Santa would be able to read it. It had all the typical things a teenage boy could want, a computer, video games, a new phone, you know the deal. My sister had only one item on her list. A dog. she asked for one every year, but my parents always said no. This year, Mom just said, wait and see.

once we had finished, Mom promised to take us to see Santa the next day. I half heartedly protested, telling her I was a little too old to sit on Santa's lap, but deep down something inside me thought it would be a great idea.

Now I know what you're thinking. Whats the big deal about going to the mall to see Santa? Well in our town Santa isn't at the mall, he has a whole city. It's almost like an amusement park. It has rides, shows, and games, Even an indoor ice skating rink. And best of all, all the candy canes you can eat. There always seemed to be a touch of magic in the air. It was a great way to celebrate the holidays, and we looked forward to it every year.

Some of you may live near Disney world or universal studios, but for us Santa's city was as close as we came. It was the biggest event of the year in these parts. Kids would come from miles around to spend the day. It would be just the thing i needed to take my mind off my troubles, even if only for a few hours.

While I was excited to go, I was cautiously optimistic. I had learned never to let myself get too hopeful. Considering my recent experiences, I was sure something would go wrong. It almost always does, especially for me. Much to my surprise however, the day went great. Maybe things were finally going to turn around for me. I can always hope right?

Santa's city was busy as usual, but for some reason the lines didn't seem to be too long. We spent the morning enjoying the various rides, and played a few games before it was our turn to see Santa. I felt a little silly, but all of his elves were friendly and welcoming, and put me at ease. Santa himself was just as welcoming. He guided me to a chair next to him, and offered me some cocoa and a candy cane. We chatted for a few minutes, and he asked me how school was going and how life was, the usual small talk.

Finally he got down to business. He chuckled a few times as he read over my list, and then gave me a serious look. “I think we can handle all of these things, no problem." he said. What he said next took me by surprise. “I think we can handle your other problems too. I know about your problems at school and I think I can help." I laughed, and little cynically said “That would be great.. if only you could." He let out a hearty “Ho, Ho, Ho" and I got up and started to head out.

Just before I walked out the door, he stopped me and asked confidentially, “Your sister wants a dog. How would you feel about that?" I was taken a little off guard. There was something odd about the way he phrased the question. I shook it off and I replied “I think that would be great. My sister could really use the companionship." “That's a good boy!" he said with a smile. He stood up and gave me a firm hand shake, and handed me another candy cane before guiding me out the door. It wouldn't be for another couple of weeks that I would understand the full implications of what he had asked me.

I don't know why, but after talking to Santa, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Everything seemed to go my way. I won every game I played, and hardly had to wait for any of the rides. And I ate so much candy, I was sure I was going to get sick, but I didn't, and my Mom never once warned me about ruining my dinner. It was amazing. I can't remember ever feeling this good.

Eventually Santa's city started to close down for the night, and we had to head home. I must have been practically buzzing from the high I was feeling, because even my mom commented on how happy I looked. I thanked her for taking us, telling her I really needed something like that to refresh my spirits.

The next week was the week before Christmas. As you may have guessed, we didn't get much actual work done, as everyone was too excited to sit still for long. Much to my surprise, the buzz from our visit to Santa's city over the weekend hung with me all week. It was the first time in a long time I was excited to go to school. I even aced a few assignments. Maybe things really had changed. I was cautiously optimistic.

As school let out for Christmas break, I breathed a sigh of relief. While the last week had been great, nothing could compare to a week long break with presents in the middle! The anticipation was killing me. I hadn't been this excited for Christmas since I was about six.

My sister and I helped my parents decorate the tree, and hang the lights on the house. We were on our best behavior. We didn't fight or complain, even when our parents drug us to the usual boring church service. It was the same every year. The pastor would read the Christmas story, and the younger kids would do a little skit. Okay, I have to admit it wasn't that bad. The little kids were always fun to watch. The Sunday school teacher would always throw in a few good jokes. I often wondered if the pastor scolded her after we all left because of it.

I could hardly sleep Christmas eve. This week had given me a renewed sense of vigor. I felt like a little kid again. The world was my oyster. Blech. I don't even like oysters. Oh well, it's just a saying.

My family had a tradition. Every year we would put up small trees in our rooms. When we got up on Christmas day, we were allowed to open the presents under them as long as we stayed in our rooms until our parents got up. Once they were up, while my father cooked breakfast, we were allowed to go thorough our stockings. We had to wait to open the presents under the main tree until after breakfast. My dad would always drink two or three cups of coffee before we started and we would always complain he was just trying to torture us.

After every present we opened, we had to stop and show Mom what it was and tell her who we got it from so we could send thank you notes later. It was always such a pain as I was eager to rip into every package. I was happy I got everything I wanted. Even the new computer mom promised. I couldn't wait to try it out and maybe install some games. Mom looked over and reminded me “it's for school, not games".

I couldn't have been happier. But then I looked over at my sister. She had a good sized heap of presents in front of her, but she looked a little unhappy. I went over and asked her what was wrong. I should have known right away. “No dog" She said. I leaned over and hugged her. “Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get one soon". Little did I know just how right I was.

The rest of the day flew by. My sister and I retired to our rooms to organize and enjoy our loot. Even though the computer was technically “for school", I just had to try out a few games, just to see what it could do of course. I was quite pleased by the performance. I could tell my parents had splurged on it. I found a small note in the box. “Don't tell your sister, but here are a few gift cards for games", along with a pair of $20 gift cards. I smiled and quietly said “Thanks Mom and Dad." I'd have to remember to give them a big hug later.

Mom always spent the day cooking. She always made the best Christmas dinners. Juicy Prime rib, special sweet potatoes my great aunt would bring back from Mississippi with those little mini marshmallows on top, and of course my grandmothers secret cheesecake recipe. I kept begging my mom to teach me how to make it, but she kept telling me I wasn't ready yet. It was the best meal of the year, hands down. Tale of my mothers cooking had spread so wide that my friends would often invite themselves over so they could stay for left overs. My Mom never seemed to mind.

As she set about work, it wasn't long before the house was filled with the delicious aromas of the upcoming meal. I don't know if it was just the excitement of the day or what, but I could make out each subtle aroma and practically taste each dish as she made it. I know it sounds strange, but I could almost tell when she needed to add a little more salt. I had never felt so alive. The anticipation of sitting down to a plate of that mouth watering prime rib, and those sweet potatoes was almost more than I could bare. I tried to lose myself in a game with only limited success.

I spent most of the afternoon in my room half heartedly playing on the computer taking frequent breaks to head downstairs and “help" my mom with dinner. Secretly I was more interested in licking the bowls or seeing what scraps I could get. Mom was grateful for any help I gave her, even though I spent more time snacking than actually helping.

By the time dinner was ready, I was almost drooling in anticipation. I straightened my clothes, and made sure my hair was at least presentable. As I took in the lavish spread on the dining room table, I think I actually did start to drool a bit. Luckily no one saw me. That would have been embarrassing to say the least.

We all sat around the table and bowed our heads and my father lead us in a quick prayer. My stomach started to grow louder and louder as the enticing smells from the food filled my nose.I could barely take it any longer when my father finally finished with the traditional “Amen".

I grabbed my plate and started stacking heaps of meat and vegetables on it. It took me a few minuets to realize everyone was staring at me. “What? I'm hungry!" I said. Everyone laughed, and continued filling their plates.

I knew my mom was a great cook, but as I took a bite of the food I couldn't believe how great it tasted. I had never had food this good. I quickly devoured every bite of food on my plate and went in for seconds. I suspect my mom had intended for their to be left overs, but I made it my mission to clean up every dish on the table. By the time the cheesecake had been served and eaten, I could swear that my stomach protruded a bit more, and my shirt was a little tighter. I defiantly had to loosen my belt a notch or two.

I retired to my room after dinner, and decided to change into my pajamas and relax a little before heading to bed. I looked in the mirror hanging on the back of my door, and ran my hands along my tummy. Yep definitely got a good stomach bulge going there. I also noticed that my body hair seemed a bit thicker than I remembered, but I chalked that up to puberty.

I threw on my Christmas pajamas, and joined my family in the living room for the traditional family Christmas movie. We would watch the old stop motion Rudolph specials my parents grew up with, then my sister and I would choose a movie. I don't remember much about what it was because I fell asleep not too long after it started. The next thing I new, my mom was shaking me awake and telling me to head for bed.

I don't know exactly how I got into bed that night, or if I even remembered to brush my teeth, but I do know I slept like a log. It was well into afternoon the next day when I woke up. I stumbled out of bed and wandered into the bath room to take care of certain essential tasks, if you know what I mean.

I caught sight of myself in the medicine cabinet mirror, and was taken slightly aback. Don't get me wrong, I still looked like me, but there was a subtle difference I couldn't put my finger on. Almost like I was a little out of phase or something. I laughed at the thought and figured I was just imagining things. Maybe a food hangover of something.

I took care of business and made my way back to my room. I was a little more awake now, and standing there nude, I took a good look at myself in the mirror in my room. I still looked and felt mostly like myself- Maybe a bit of a stomach ache, but thats not important. I could swear that I was hairier than I was last night. Some of those patches were starting to fill in and spread. That couldn't happen right? Puberty doesn't act that fast does it?

I threw on my boxer briefs, a pair of grey sweatpants, and my favorite thermal t-shirt with the off white body and green raglan sleeves. Finally dressed for the day, I decided to head down to the kitchen and see if I could grab some brunch.

Mom was standing in the kitchen and said “Theres my good boy" when she saw me. I thought it was a little odd, but I mumbled “Thanks, mom". I rummaged through the fridge until i had a sizable platter of cheese crackers and sausage. Mom looked over at me, shook her head, and said “Just don't ruin your dinner, honey." I wandered into the living room and found something to watch on tv and cleaned the plate, not leaving a single crumb.

After I finished my meal, I felt invigorated. I decided to go outside and play around. I knew it was cold, but I loved to get out in the snow. I don't know how long I spent out there, but I could've easily spent the whole day playing in the snow. I didn't even feel the cold the whole time I was outside. Surprisingly I didn't realize I hadn't even put on my coat until I came back in and saw it sitting there on the living room chair.

Since “Someone who shall remain nameless" ate all the food from yesterday's dinner, mom and dad decided to DoorDash something from the local Chinese restaurant. It was the only thing open, and we had always enjoyed their food. We had quite a feast, General tso's chicken, lo mein, fried rice, beef and broccoli, egg rolls, you name it. Once everyone was fat and happy, we settled in to watch tv around the fireplace.

I enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace and it felt great just be around my family. Especially my sister. I found a place as close to her as I could, and curled up to enjoy the companionship and bonding. Without realizing it, I kept moving closer and closer all night until we were practically touching. Somehow she either didn't notice or didn't seem to care.

Once the show was over, I headed up to bed. I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, and took care of my nightly routine. I headed back to my bedroom and stripped off my clothes and grabbed my pajamas. Before I could slide them on, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My body seemed to be covered in what I almost described as “fur". I say almost because people don't have fur, right?

I started to say something to my parents, but found that they had already gone to bed. I figured a little extra body hair wasn't terminal, so I decided it could wait, and I would bring it up in the morning. Probably just a hormonal imbalance or something.

As I slept I had the weirdest dream. I kept feeling like ants were crawling all over my body. I could feel their little legs moving all over every inch of me. No matter what I did, I couldn't brush them away. I must have tossed and turned all night, because when I woke up the next day, my sheets were a complete tangled mess. It took me almost twenty minuets to get myself free.

When I saw myself in the mirror, I let out a gasp. That little bit of “fur" had spread and thickened. It now covered my entire body. I could barely recognize myself. I called out for my mom in a panic. She came running in, asking me what was wrong. I said “ Just look at me". She glanced me up and down, and said “you look okay to me honey." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Here I am, standing here totally nude, covered from head to toe in soft golden fur, that yes is firmly attached to me- i checked, and she thinks everything is okay. Like this is totally normal. I think someone hit the eggnog a little to hard last night.

I padded out of my room without even thinking about getting dressed to see if my father was any saner. I finally found him in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee. He looked over and casually said “What's up boy?" as if my standing there in front of him covered only in a thick coat of fur was a natural everyday occurrence. i weighed my options for a moment and I decided I wasn't going to get anywhere with him either, so I just said “Nothing Dad", and headed back to my room. I sat on my bed contemplating what to do next.

I decided to try shaving the fur off. Dad had an electric razor, so I grabbed that and began to run it along my arms. It made short work of the fur leaving behind smooth clear skin. I breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately that relief would be short lived. Every time I would clear a patch of skin, I could see it growing in thicker than it had been before. Each time regrowing quicker than the last. I quickly decided that wasn't such a good idea, unless I wanted to look like big foot or something.

I decided it would be best to throw on some clothes and go out for a walk. Try and clear my mind. I pulled on a pair of boxer briefs, and red hoodie with grey sweatpants. I immediately started to feel very warm. I tried to push it out of my mind and decided to walk around the neighborhood. Luckily, thanks to the cold, there were few people out, and with my hoodie up I could walk around unmolested, lost in my thoughts.

With each step my clothes felt more and more foreign. As if they were actually somebody else's that I had put on by accident, and didn't quite fit me properly. They seemed tight or baggy in all the wrong places. Every now and then as I stopped to adjust my outfit a stray thought ran through my mind- “What do I even need clothes for anyway?" followed by the strong urge to rip them off. Since I didn't fancy freezing to death today, I wisely resisted the urge, though it wasn't easy.

By the time I got home, I wasn't any closer to finding a solution. I decided to head up to my room and do a little internet surfing. Surely Google will have the answer right? Now I'm not naive enough to believe everything on the internet, but surely there must be something I can use. There are all kinds of medical resources out there, and I still had my moms credit card number if I needed to access a pay site. I'm sure she wouldn't mind.

The house seemed unreasonably warm to me, and without thinking about it, I was soon peeling off my sweats. I sat at my desk in just my underwear, clicking through link after link looking for something, anything, useful. Every time I thought I found something it would just be another dead end. The only things like this I found were some movie reviews or old literature. I hated reading that stuff in school, and I certainly wasn't going to read it on vacation. I was confident I wasn't going to miss anything useful skipping them.

As I browsed, I noticed my fur was a little untidy. I idly started stroking my own fur, in an effort to neaten it up. As my hand brushed over it intense sent waves of pleasure rippled through my body. I had never felt anything like it. Soon the search was abandoned, and I started doing what could only be described as petting myself. And not in any inappropriate way, so don't even go there.

Before I knew it, I heard my mother calling me down for dinner. I headed out to the dining room. I half wondered if anyone would say anything about my state of dress, but everyone continued to behave as if this was all perfectly normal. I have to admit I was starting to get a bit weirded out. I almost felt like I had fallen into an episode of the twilight zone. I wasn't sure I really wanted trust my “family" if thats who they truly were, but my stomach took over, and I sat down to eat.

Dinner that night was barbecue ribs. I had always loved a good barbecue. I quickly gnawed all the meat off the bones, stacking them in a neat pile on the plate. Without thinking, I grabbed one of the bones and started chewing on it. I quickly dropped it onto the plate when I realized what I had done. I gazed for a moment at the pathetic marks my human teeth had made on the surface.

“Everything okay, boy?" my father asked. I looked at him like he had grown an extra head. Why did he keep calling me boy? Technically he's not wrong, but he usually referred to me by name. He hadn't called me his boy since I was little and I had always hated it even then. I excused myself from the table and went back to my room.

I spent the rest of the evening by myself contemplating what was happening. Nothing made sense anymore. Clearly they could see that this wasn't normal. I logged onto my facebook account, and much to my relief, it was just as I remembered it. The posts I'd made, the comments from my friends all looked right. I browsed through my photo library, and I looked just like I remembered myself. No Fur. nothing. Just a relatively average teenage boy.

I must have been more tired than I realized because I was soon drifting off to sleep. Not bothering with clothes has one advantage- It sure makes getting ready for bed easier.

I had another strange dream. I was out in my backyard. I saw my sister come out of the house. I started bounding through the snow to her. She was excited to see me. She started stroking my fur. It felt wonderful. I loved being near her. She drew out a tennis ball from some unseen pocket. I ran after it, burying my face in the snow to grasp it with my mouth. The cold was invigorating. I brought the ball back and dropped it at her feet. We played for hours. Or at least it seemed like hours. Time flows weirdly in a dream.

When I finally woke up, I was sprawled out on my bed with the corner of my pillow in my mouth. I pulled my self up and cautiously looked in the mirror to see if anything else had changed.

I almost fainted when I saw my self. My nose had broadened out and turned black. I brought my hand up to touch it, and it felt wet. What really drew my attention though was my hands as they came into my line of sight. Or rather what had been my hands. You see, I was not staring at a paw. My thumb had shrunk, and black pads had formed not the bottom of my hands. My fingers had shortened and my nails had turned black and resembled claws.

Something was definitely amiss. No way my parents could deny it now. I spent ten minutes vainly trying to pull on at least my underwear, but my paws were virtually worthless for the task. I eventually gave up and and tracked my mother down.

“Look at me!" I demanded. She did. She told me I looked “cute as always.". I told her I wasn't feeling well and I thought something was wrong with me. At first she laughed it off, but I insisted. Eventually she agreed to make me a doctors appointment. Finally I would get some answers.

Mom came in a while later and told me that the doctor was away until after the holidays, so she would take me to the hospital. Even better I thought. There would be plenty of doctors there who can figure out what was wrong.

She led me out to the car and opened the back door. Happy enough to finally be getting somewhere, I hopped right in. It only occurred to me after we had been on the road for a while that I hadn't even gotten dressed before we left. Oh well, too late to worry about that now.

Now I've never been great with directions, but I knew when mom made the turn out of our street that she wasn't heading to the hospital. Not the human one at least. She told me not to worry and we would be there soon. My fears were confirmed shortly after when we pulled up to the Dogs and Cats emergency Hospital ™. Open 24/7/365

“Mom, what are we doing here?" I asked. “you said you weren't feeling well, and this is the only place open until after the new year." she had a serious look on her face. I decided to go with it and maybe the vet would talk a little since into her. I didn't have much choice at this point anyway. I couldn't afford to let what ever was happening go unchecked any longer. Who knew how i might end up.

As we walked into the waiting room, I felt uneasy. There were dogs and cats of all shaped and sizes scattered throughout the room. Pitiful barks and meows emanated seemingly randomly from the patients. I expected at least one of the owners to say something about me. It's not everyday you see a teenage boy covered in fur with paws for hands and feet. I must have looked surreal standing there, but no one batted an eye.

The more I gazed around the waiting room the more and idea formed in my head. The conclusion I had actively been avoiding. I slowly came to the realization that if things kept going the way they were, I was going to become one of these furry creatures myself before much longer. I wondered if I would still be me, or if I would be nothing more than an average dog when the transformation was finished. I wasn't sure I liked either option. I felt a sinking feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.

Mom went to the counter and checked me in. I felt like screaming that I wasn't a dog and I didn't belong there, but i knew it wouldn't make any difference. I wondered if they would even hear the words or just a series of barks.feeling defeated, I found a seat and sat down. Looking at the number of pets in the waiting room, I estimated we would be waiting some time.

Normally I would have brought my laptop, or even a book to something like this, but that hadn't really been an option. I'm not even sure I would have been able to concentrate on them if i'd had them I kept turning the situation over in my mind. The idea of becoming my family's pet wasn't appealing to me. I kept trying to figure out what I had done to deserve something like this. It's not an everyday occurrence after all.

Mom could tell that I was feeling tense and nervous. She reached over and started to pet me. I started to pull away, but it felt so good I leaned into it. It wasn't long before all my concerns were melting away.

After what seemed like an eternity, the tech finally called us. We were lead back into one of the exam rooms. I had been to the vet with a pet many times, but this was my first time on this side of the table. I felt very self conscious. The tech had me hop up onto the table, and proceeded to take my vitals. Having my temperature taken was a unique experience, let me tell you.

After collecting my vitals, the tech proceeded to ask my mother the standard array of questions, “What seems to be the problem?" “is he eating okay?" “any signs of pain" you know the usual stuff. Mom answered all the questions, but I couldn't help feeling overlooked. I'm wasn't used to being referred to in the third person when I was sitting right there. someone need to talk to the tech about their bed side manner. I kept trying to interject, but each time was met with a firm “quiet down boy". After the third or fourth time, i gave up and decided to just wait for the vet.

After gathering as much information as they could, the tech buzzed the intercom to let the vet know we were ready. He came in and began looked over the file. After a few mandatory, hmm's he set the file down. He looked me over, then turned to my mother, and asked her a few additional questions. I guess I really shouldn't have expected anything different.

Once that was out of the way, the exam could begin. I have never been poked and prodded so thoroughly in my entire life. He even took blood samples and handed them to the tech to process. Good I thought. once those samples comeback as human, and not dog, everyone will start to listen to me. Oh, if only it were that simple.

Once the exam was complete, the vet stepped out to go over the lab results. Mom and I were left alone in the exam room. An awkward silence filled the air. I wasn't sure what was going on, or even if I could trust my mother at that moment. Do you know what it feels like to not be sure you can trust your own mother? It is the worst feeling ever. It tugged at my very soul. I was relieved when the vet returned. Now we would get somewhere. Everything would be cleared up. This was all some kind of mistake. Yeah, I know I'm reaching, but at this point what else have I got?

As they went over the results, the vet said everything looks normal. If this had been a cartoon, my mouth would have dropped so wide in disbelief you could have driven a car through it. Since this was actually reality, it only fell about half that way. Mom pulled the doctor aside, and discussed something with him. I figured it was about my transformation. Boy was I wrong.

Before I could recover enough from the shock of having my blood tests comeback normal- for a dog! I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. Then a few more. it turns out my mother had decided to have me vaccinated while we were here. To add insult to injury, I felt a jab between my shoulder blades. Great, that can only mean one thing. A microchip. This had gone to far. I wasn't her pet. I was her son.

I tried to protest, but nothing came out except for a few half hearted barks. Try as hard as i might I couldn't form the words. They were on the tip of my tongue, but they just wouldn't come out. If you listened hard enough you might almost be able to make out what I was trying to say in a strange mix of barks and speech. “woof are-f you-of d-arf-ing" (What are you doing?).

I glanced down at the exam table in frustration, only to notice that it looked like my mouth had started to elongate. I crossed my eyes, and looked down at my nose, and sure enough, it was much more visible than it should have been.

The vet decided I was just stressed, (good guess genius), and he gave me a vitamin shot. I had to admit I did feel a little better afterwards, but I was no closer to not being a dog. An important point I would think.

After that, the vet discharged us, telling my mom that if I don't look better in a couple of days to come back, blah, blah, blah. You know the usual stuff. Mom led me back to the waiting room, where she settled up the bill. I plopped down in the chair and rubbed my arm where I had gotten the shots. I hoped we would figure some way out of this, because I had no desire to ever set foot in this place again.

The ride home was uneventful, except I could swear my mouth, or I guess my muzzle now, continued to slowly grow longer. By the time we got home, and I ran up to my room to look in my mirror, I was a bizarre sight. I was defiantly going to be a yellow lab. No doubt about it. but I looked really funny in this in-between state, covered in fur, paws, and nice muzzle, but human eyes and ears, no tail, and my human haircut was still mostly visible, giving me a rather comedic appearance.

While the vet appointment had taken up most of the day, and yielded no useful results, there was still some time before dinner. I heard a light knock on my bedroom door. I turned to see my sister standing there. She looked over at me and asked if I wanted to play. I told her “woof, woof." somehow she knew that meant yes.

We soon found ourselves outside in the back yard. My sister drew a tennis ball out from some pocket or another and held it out to me. “Wanna play fetch?" she asked. I barked happily, and she threw the ball. I automatically dashed after it. I stuck my head into the snow and picked up the ball in my new muzzle. Much easier than in my dream with that old human mouth. I proudly carried it back to her and dropped it at her feet. She cheered, and threw it for me again. We repeated the cycle over and over. It seems like such a simple game, but I had to admit I was really enjoying myself. Spending time with my sister was wonderful and made me feel complete. I knew this was my place.

After a dozen or so throws, mom called us in for dinner. I walked over to the table and started to sit down. Mom looked at me, and said “what do you think you're doing?". I looked at her quizzically before I realized there was no place set for me at the table. Mom pointed to a bowl on the floor. “your usual spot awaits". I went over to the bowl an got down on all fours and stuck my muzzle into the bowl.

I have a strong suspicion that the bowl was filled with dog food, but it was that high quality boutique stuff that almost looks like human food. It didn't taste all that bad, all things considered.

Being on all fours felt more natural to me than being upright had been, and my new muzzle made it easy for me to make short work of the food in the bowl. Once I was finished, I moved towards the table in hopes of getting a few scraps. I sat on the floor next to my sister hoping she would “accidentally" drop something for me. I didn't have to wait long.

It wasn't until after dinner when everyone moved into the living room that i realized I was still on all fours. It just felt more natural. Glancing around I was amazed at how different everything looked from this perspective. I was used to seeing faces, now all I could see were knees.

While my sister watched tv, I started to wonder how much time I had left. The only things I needed were ears and a tail, and I would be indistinguishable from a normal dog. What would that mean? Would I start to think and act like a dog? I was already starting to show a few dog behaviors. My train of thought about the future was derailed when my parents announced it was time to go to bed.

“Come on Sam", my sister said. I got up and followed he to her bedroom. I knew that she was expecting me to spend the night with her just like a loyal pet. I was a little repulsed by the thought, but she was insistent. Oh well, I'll just stay with her until she falls asleep, then I'll head back to my room.

I found a dog bed tucked into a corner of her room that I didn't remember being there before. I decided to curl up in it. It must have been more comfortable than I thought, because the next thing I knew it was morning.

I rushed into my old room and looked at myself in the mirror. More changes were evident. My ears had shifted positions and had gotten longer and floppy. The shape of my head had shifted, and It now resembled a typical dogs head. For some reason that made me incredibly happy. I felt something behind me flopping against the floor. Well I guess that answers wither or not I have a tail.

I stood up on all fours, Two feet was out of the question at this point. and tried to see myself from every angle. I tried moving my ears, but that turned out to be a little disappointing. I spent quite a bit of time swishing my tail about, and wagging it back and forth, eager to see how much control I had over it. I was amazed at all the different emotions I could communicate with it.

After a while reality began to sink in. I let out a soft sigh. It was done. I was completely transformed now. I was a dog. There was nothing human left.

At least externally. I still felt like myself inside, and found I could still remember everything I could before, from friends names and faces (not like I would be seeing them again) to favorite books and tv shows. At least knowing I was still me on the inside was something of a victory.

Over the next couple of days my sister and I became inseparable. We did everything around the house together, we played outside and went for walks, and oddly no one seemed to wonder what happened to the human me. It was almost as if I never existed, but there was remnants from my life all over the house. Including my bedroom. Yet no one seemed to connect the dots.

While we were out walking later that afternoon, I chuckled to myself, and thought it looks like my sister is going to get her dog for Christmas after all. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered that conversation with Santa. That cryptic question.

He would solve my problems in school, and give my sister what she wanted. By turning me into a dog. As I replayed the conversation in my mind, I realized I had agreed to it. That handshake was a binding contract. Who would have ever thought that was the real Santa?

I wasn't sure if this arrangement was going to be permanent, but a growing portion of me didn't care if it was. Santa had kept his end of the bargain. I didn't have to worry about my handwriting or my grades in school anymore, and my sister got the best dog she could ever hope for.

Looking back after the last few months, being a dog has really grown on me. I love the carefree life, my sister and I have never been closer and I couldn't be happier. Yeah, no one even remembers I was human, but considering the life I had, it's not really that big a loss. This one is a much better fit for me anyway. I finally feel at peace. This may not be quite the way I have envisioned things turning out, but you'll get no complaints from me. Thanks Santa.