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I couldn't hardly believe it! I actually got selected for Summer Bible School. After months of hanging out at the Eighth Baptist Church Youth Group, it all finally paid off.

You see, I wasn't really into the whole religion thing. At least not like at Eighth Baptist. I once got scolded for daring to question whether everything in the Bible was literally written by God. So why was I there?

Christer Eriksson was a member.

Dating was not easy for my kind, as my cousin Ida could most definitely attest, and she was even prettier than me. After the catalyst in the 1960s, humanity was joined by dozens of different hybrid species: two-legged horses, wolves, lions, you name it. For a tense decade, these anthros managed to claw their way up to second-class citizenship, and the Civil Rights Act of the 70's helped a lot.

But if anthros were second class, taurs were third. Centaurs managed to fit in pretty well, but wolftaurs and cattaurs still got a lot of bad jokes. But the worst thing to be was definitely me - a dogtaur. Rare enough that most people hadn't seen one, we hit the sweet spot for being extra animalish, but not having redeeming features from our animal. While people feared or respected wolves, people treated their dogs like sexless puppies.

I had the rather serious misfortune of replacing my human legs with the entire body of a Golden Retriever. How could I possibly be taken seriously? At least I wasn't a short-haired breed, or I'd have to choose between wearing stupid looking clothes or walking around with my junk showing all the time.

But there was one boy who never pretended to throw a ball, or offer me dog treats, and that was Christer Eriksson. He was eighteen, like me, and didn't have too many friends, like me. Only he didn't have friends because he was a hardcore Baptist. Which was odd, because a little bit of God-talk seemed worth it for a boy who didn't judge you by the color of your fur.

So when I found out that I got to be a Counselor alongside Christer, I couldn't help but wag my tail, as much as I tried to control the damned thing. I hadn't worked up the nerve to ask him out, yet, and I didn't even know his stance on interspecies relationships, but anything that got me closer to Christer was a good thing.

I knew, at least, that he liked dogs, because he often brought his to youth group. Hedger looked like a cross between a whippet and a black lab, and seemed nice enough, for a dog. It probably helped that he was neutered, so he never took much notice to my heats, though I had to be ever vigilant to avoid an embarrassing sniff.

Wearing a nice sweater, I stuck the name tag to my chest: Vera Lukacevic. I'd spent the morning brushing all my hair, human and fur, into smooth, golden perfection. I tied my blond hair into a ponytail, letting my floppy ears hang neatly. The ears were the only dog-like feature above my waist, but I'd grown to like them. They often displayed emotion I'd otherwise feel too afraid to admit.

"Ready?" Christer asked, and I liked to think he was mostly talking to me, despite addressing all four of us. Ben Nielson and Ava Midner were also helping to wrangle the kids. About 90% of the camp was little human 10-year-olds, though I managed to glimpse a few anthros joining the noisy group. No taurs though.

"Yes," I said, then blushed, realizing that the question hadn't been meant to be answered.

Boy was I not ready. The kids were little monsters, running everywhere, getting into trouble, refusing to sit still for Bible lessons. Thank God for Duck, Duck, Goose and Simon Says, because by lunch their energy level had dropped considerably. My tail got stepped on three times! Still, the nice thing about Summer Bible School is that at four, all the kids go home and we get stuck cleaning up for the next day.

But that's what I'd been waiting for. I followed Christer, offering to help with whatever he was doing, picking up litter, cleaning up the kitchen, straightening out the Bibles. I even offered to help him clean the boy's bathroom, but he declined. I never enjoyed an hour of cleaning more.

"Okay, who wants to do the puppet show with me in two days?" Christer asked, and my hand popped up.

"Are you sure? This is your first year. There's a lot of lines."

I nodded. "It's also my last year, though." I had just graduated and was going to college in the Fall. "I can learn the lines, I promise."

"Well, okay," Christer said, understanding. "Here's the lines, your parts in green."

There were a lot_of lines, but familiar ones. I'd grown up in the Lutheran church thanks to my parents, so there was a lot of overlap. I spent that night _and the next memorizing every last word by Christer, and every first word for me, until a teleprompter would have been useless. I wasn't going to let Christer down, especially on the second to last day of SBS.

It was the perfect day for a puppet show in the park. Eighth Baptist was within walking distance of a beautiful park with thirty-foot tall trees and carefully trimmed hedges and bushes and flowers, and childrens' play equipment. After the kids burned all their energy injuring themselves on slides and tripping over sticks, we fed them sack lunches and sat them all in front of the old, church puppet stand.

It was a great venue, the old, stone structure curved to help direct the sound outward, with a big stage. The stand fit neatly on the stage, a makeshift box with a wooden stage of its own, and a black curtain to hide the puppet masters. I was grateful for the flimsy, wooden barrier. As much as I wanted to be doing this show, performing in front of three dozen ten-year-olds would make anyone nervous.

I immediately noticed the problem. Christer'd brought Hedger along for the day in the park, and the mutt never liked to be too far away from his boy. So Christer had tied him up on the left side of the puppet stand, behind the wide edges, but close enough that the whippet wouldn't start to whine or whimper.

"Um, can I be on the right side?" I asked, ears flicking.

"What? That's not what's in the script."

"I know, it's just..."

How could I explain that if I were on the left, I'd spend the entire puppet show worrying about his dog sniffing my butt? The stand hadn't been designed for taurs, so my back end would be sticking right out of the curtain.

"You know what, don't worry about it," I said. He'd sniffed my butt before, and this time, no one would be able to see it. The curved, stone walls of the outdoor auditorium blocked anyone from seeing. Only someone standing at the stone opening in the back wall could see anything, and no one should be back there except the lilac bushes.

Most of my scenes involved just my hand puppets, but I had two big scenes where I popped up and played myself, alongside Christer. So while he had to crouch uncomfortably in the booth, I just lowered my belly to the ground, making sure the curtain draped neatly over my golden-furred back. It was dark and hot in the booth, but the show would start soon enough. I went over the lines in my head, and organized the puppets by order of appearance.

"Hi, kids! I'm Father Abraham!" started Christer, his hand clenching and relaxing with practiced precision. He smiled at me, going through lines. The kids loved it, saying "Hi" back and answering all the puppet's questions.

Now it was my turn. Using my lowest "boy" voice, up popped his son Isaac. "Hi, kids! It's me, Isaac. You called, papa?"

What a messed up story. Abraham was going to _kill_his son for God. I'd never really understood what the message was here, despite the pastor's many attempts to explain the darker stuff in the Bible.

The kids laughed at my practiced, booming voice, and the show was a resounding success. So far. Until Hedger got involved.

Sure enough, halfway through the second scene, I felt the dreaded sniff. A cold, wet nose shoved right under my tail. I had to bite my lip to stop from growling at Hedger, but I knew that if I just let him get his fill, he'd leave me alone. I kept up with my lines, trying to ignore the mutt's hot breath on my exposed tailhole.

"My name is Ruth!" I said, cheerfully, glad that one of the few chapters about women was included in the show, though it WAS the shortest book in the Bible.

"Hello there," he began, "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Boaz and this is my field."

When I was about to make my reply, I felt something quite different than Hedger's usual sniff and forget. Something wet and warm, and just a bit lower.

Yip!