A warm spring day in Southern California requires fursuiting...

Just like a cold Corona requires a fresh lime and wet Under Armour
requires an anemic hotel room fan.

Desoto and I decided to take a stroll around Main Street, mix it up with
the humans, and explore the fine beer-n-taco establishments.
GSDs love beer and tacos, and all that hugging works up a mean
appetite.
And thirst.
Don't forget thirst.

We ambled about for a good long while, stopping for snaps and giving
the happy paws to every person we ran into.
And for those of you who have suited in public, you know that
I mean "ran into" in a literal sense.

An interesting phenomenon occurs after hours of public suiting.
Maybe it's the dehydration making your brain shrink, or maybe
it's the major sensory deprivation, but you soon forget
that you're an upright, talking doggie.
Serious.

The stroll becomes a long string of hugs, questions, short explanations
and beaming smiles, but you discount the fact that you are a
damp, fuzzy mitten with a swinging tail.
You begin to accept the commotion as normality.

It would be an interesting social experiment to
suit for a week straight, and see how the acclimation to becoming a full
time love target might proceed, but I'm afraid of the decompression
that would ensue from being a regular ol' human again.
I would get the lack-of-cute bends.

But I digress.

I thought I'd heard, and answered, every question that could be
directed towards a random talking dog, but this happy young
man came bounding over with a brand new one.

He looked us up and down, gave us strong, giggly hugs, and
then said "how is this even legal?"

I shrugged at looked to Desoto for an answer.
He gave me that look that only a real dog can.
You know the one; "this is your mess. I'm just here for the treats."

I waggled and asked the young man to elaborate.

"You guys are just strolling around, no agenda, no rhyme or reason,
just two talking dogs creating a scene and posing
for pictures. How is that much fun legal?"

I scratched my plastic ear and rubbed my fake whiskers.

"Are you saying fun should be outlawed?" I asked.
"No, not at all. I'm saying that you guys are breaking all the
rules, seemingly thumbing your enormous noses at society, but it's
working in your favor. I'm just happy to see something
silly and different. We need more fun!"

I smiled broadly inside my hothouse head.
Deosto went off to chase a butterfly.
This was an amazing day.

This guy really got it!
We spend an inordinate amount of our
resources on these animal bags for the sole purpose of having fun.
No one writes the script. No one tells us how to act.
No one demands a license or a permit or tells us we're in a
no wag zone.

This really is freedom of expression and the expression
of an active imagination at its finest.

I'm probably the worst, most boring, least animated fursuiter
in the fandom, but I still get to have so much fun that it should be illegal.
It's a gift I don't take lightly!

We assured our new bespectacled friend that we'd stay out of
trouble, adhere to the letter of law and continue to do
what we do. He bowed and said he hoped he'd see us again.

I told him he should get a furry sweat sack and join us next time.
His eyes got wide and he wandered away without a word.
Not sure if he was inspired or deeply worried..

We padded off towards Fred's, thoughts of a cold beer and a Mexican
lunch dancing in our heads.
Another great day as a silly mutt.
Another person who summed up furry without even knowing it.

And another cold Corona spilled by my oversized paws.