Somehow, I knew that you’d be mad at me.
You always seemed the type for God’s design,
And keeping humans human. That’s your way.
I’m fine with that; I didn’t ask for your
Approval, nor your affirmation, dear.
I did this one entirely for myself.
I met the doctor first; the agent next;
And I’m a living mascot. No, ’twas not
Done for you, dear; I’m now a fox—for me.
You know this body is my cherished dream,
My one desire above all other things.
I’ve told you of my childhood fantasies:
Me, a fox—with ears and fur and tails—
And oh, how I’d imagine it, until
It felt more real than real! But afterwards,
Each time I felt ’round back to feel my tails,
They weren’t there. That’s then—but now the dream
Is real! I feel the wind in my new fur;
The whoosh of air between my brace of tails;
The silent scents of spring in my black nose.
Did I consider consequences? Yes.
And, likewise, reasons not to go ahead.
I didn’t mind the cost, however great!
You say I’ll go to hell? Well, then, I’m damned.
Call it good or bad, as you see fit. By
Whatever names I’m called, I’m still a fox.
And, I’ll have you know, I’m under contract.
My public waits for me outside this door.
Support me, smite me; I don’t really care.
Just please get out of Fenton Fox’s way.