Hello, I’m Keith Peters and I have been transformed into a dog. It happened a few years ago, a witch did it I believe. It’s hard to be certain, dog-brain can’t hold too many long-term memories. Anyways, after lots of dog therapy and self-reflection, I’ve come to terms with that aspect of my life. I’m a dog. A Schnauzer to be more exact.
The problem comes from the fact that I’m not the dog. Beethoven. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He can play the piano. As a dog. I don’t know how he does it, I always figured you needed thumbs to play, but he does it anyways. So now the whole world loves Beethoven, and nobody even knows who I am.
It should have been me! I was a pianist before I got turned into a dog. Or at least I think I was, dog-brain remember. This Beethoven wasn’t even a musician. He was just some lawyer who got turned into a dog. I don’t even know why he was named Beethoven; he presumably had a name before the transformation. I mean what kind of sicko changes a man’s name as well as his body.
I’m still Keith after all.
All things considered though; I should not complain too much. Or I shouldn’t have. I complain a lot now. Let me explain:
A month ago, I was put in the pound. I was taking a stroll outside my apartment, I own the whole building you see, so I get carte blanche access, when all of a sudden, a man in a white van rolls up beside me and places a net around me.
I tried to tell him of my situation, but he ignored me. He stripped me of my walking outfit. Grabbed me by my waist and threw me in the back!
At the pound they probed me, looking for a tag to connect me to my owners. I don’t have a tag, because I didn’t have one as a human. Not that it would have done me any good because I don’t have any owners. Again, I was a man. A forty-three-year-old man.
So, they groped me. Then they showered me. It was utterly inhumane, although to be honest I can’t really fault them for that.
It all came to a head however, when they went for my balls.
I will admit I panicked. For the first time ever, as a dog, I bit someone. I feel terribly sorry now, but in the heat of the moment I challenge anyone to not resort to a certain animalism when a man in a lab coat starts reaching for your undercroft.
Eventually they managed to subdue me, and I was just like whatever. I didn’t use the things anyway, and to be completely honest they kind of got in the way of my walking. So, they knocked me out with some sedative and I woke up feeling… different.
That all brings me to now. Somebody just turned on the T.V. and guess what, it’s that stupid movie about Beethoven. Turns out I had gotten some of my facts wrong, Beethoven was never a man, and he can’t play the piano. Immediately my adverse opinion on the dog lessened. I can’t believe I once wished the dog dead.
Can you imagine? I’m sitting there, in a cage, balls gone, they’re probably going to fucking kill me for biting that guy, and all I can think about is how I was talking shit about this other dog from some stupid movie. Fucking crazy.
Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t have testosterone anymore, or the fact that my likely impending death is sending me into a spiral, but my whole world’s been flipped on its head, and I don’t give a shit.
I used to be a piano player. I was good too. People came and watched me play. Now I lay in my own pee, licking at the scar between my legs. I long to be Beethoven once more. But I want the death that Beethoven was cheated.
I think I should go back to therapy.
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