The furries are kind of like the new age Native American where they have the spirit animal or connection, or like, they take on that personal animal. . . . And whatever you put on, [you] take on those characters [and] aspects, and, for some people with social stigma who can’t interact, they put on the suit and they’re a completely different person.

That signified a total restructuring of my life, even to the point where the old character I had inhabited, a red fox with two tails, the tips of which were dyed green, no longer applied. It was high-school-me. It was me-growing-up. It is not me now.

I began by asking the room full of furries why they chose the animal they did for their species, and I received a lot of answers that fit in well with my experience of the fandom. Notable among the explanations were the oft-used words 'identity', 'connection', 'personality', and 'characteristics'. And this, of course makes sense. Many introductions to furry, whether they're websites (the first introductory website I found was Captain Packrat's explanation of FurCodes) or friends, explain that although furry is about being a fan of anthropomorphism in general, it often (but not always) specifically involves a personal connection with an animal that leads to the creation of a personal character: an avatar often used in interaction with other furries.

I took this as an almost alchemical act. After all, alchemy is more than just transmuting literal lead into literal gold. It's the transmutation of a base substance into something better. Through calcination and dissolution, the base - the *prima materia*, the self, the fox - is broken down. Through separation, conjunction, and fermentation, something new is compiled from what was in rough shapes. Through distillation and coagulation, the new self - the cat - is solidified, completed, made whole. As with a lot of how I experience furry, this is a microcosm, rather than something unique. I am not the only one to be deliberate about changing my species, just as I'm not the only one to read way too much into the furry fandom. Furry, as a whole, is an exercise in self-actualization. It is taking the idea of "this is how I want to be seen" to places and extents not often tread. Through each aspect of ourselves, we choose how we want to interact. We choose a species, we choose a name, we choose what aspects of our personalities to show to each other and the world. We construct and create every day of our lives, and we're made all the better for it. Shameless boosterism aside, we're good at what we do and what we make, whether that's art or fun or just ourselves. The more we create, the better we get at it, too. All that's left to do is to keep on creating, to keep putting our intent and our will to work. Just as I can dig into the intent behind changing a name, a fursona, an identity, I can look for the magic of self-actualization within furry as a whole. After all, furry is magic.

As I mentioned back in...oh jeez, 2013 was really five years ago!? As I mentioned half a decade back, a change in species or character often happens around large life changes, and I'm no different. The process of death and rebirth that goes along with this surgery, where I die - hopefully metaphorically - on the table and am reborn, changed, is no small feat. So it was that, shortly after my surgery consult back in 2016, I got the idea to start interacting with friends as something other than an arctic fox. More and more, I started appearing as a snow leopard (because I couldn't seem to let go of those wintry species). At first, it was an 'alt' situation: Maddy, as the snow leopard was called, was an alternate character to use when I wasn't feeling the fox. Art by Grey White She was different from the 'usual' in a few ways. She's cis, for one, unlike the arctic fox, who transitioned along with me. She's shorter and a bit pudgier than I am. She's happier and struggles less with mental health. She's an ideal rather than a reality, and something to be played for fun. Or, well, she was. This 'alt' phase lasted a few months, I suppose, before I woke up one morning and realized I'd not interacted as an arctic fox in a few days. Slowly but surely, the snow leopard had started to overtake the fox.