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Excerpts from "CTD Set Me Free", the bestseller by Sandy Strauss
by grapehyacinth

Have you ever been a dog?
The question may sound ludicrous if you haven't heard of Canine Transformation Disorder. Although with all the media coverage, I can't imagine how you wouldn't. CTD's numbers are increasing exponentially and it's being called a pandemic. If you haven't contracted it, you most likely know a woman who has.
And that's why I'm writing this book.
I was really a 'someone' in my pre-CTD life. You might have heard of me – my name is Sandy Strauss, the once-Vice President of Williams Brothers Financial. And let me tell you, I worked all hours of the day and many of the night to get where I was. Hell, sometimes I slept in my office to save time on commuting. I had no private life and few friends. All that mattered was my career. I called off the one promising relationship I'd started with a man named Danny because I had no time for him. We were great for each other, but my job meant more to me than my happiness. No, actually, I think my job was my only happiness – the striving for perfection was what drove me. Romance was silly – having a partner and lounging around with him wouldn't get me a CEO position.
When knowledge of CTD came about, I refused to believe it was anything but a joke. The idea of becoming anything not human left me cold. I was in control of my body – the perfect weight, physically fit, and healthy. Being powerless over my form was one of my nightmares. Thus I was never into werewolves and shape-shifters. “Twilight”, “True Blood”, and all of those other crappy movies, books, and shows scared the hell out of me. I refused to have anything to do with them.
But one of the famous news stories on CTD hit me hard. The reporter's words stayed with me: “Scientists have learned that people in the early stages of CTD lose all human thought when transformed, essentially turning the victim into a dog no different than any genuine canine. But in later changes, the victim retains their mind. So we end up with a human mind in a dog's body. You're a person one-hundred percent in mind, but zero percent in body.” The reporter chuckled. “Most people find this disarming, but there's some that find it cute. My wife has it, and she makes the most adorable English sheepdog I'd ever laid eyes on–”
I don't know why this reporter's words affected me so greatly. Was it the idea of being an animal that was so jarring? Were the later stages of the disease, when I'd essentially be a person trapped in a dog's body, more frightening? Maybe the fact that this reporter found his wife so irresistible as an English sheepdog was the most unsettling. I don't know.
***
The fateful day I discovered the tell-tale fur growing on my arm will always be etched in my brain. The fear and disbelief was overwhelming. I could not accept this as reality. I was a human being, and there was no way I could transform into anything else! But as the fur grew and my body began to shift and shrink, I became hysterical. I had to stop these changes! When I felt my teeth elongating, I grabbed up a mirror to see them, then dropped it from a hand that was becoming a paw. This only fueled my terror. Now I'd have bad luck for seven years! I broke a mirror!
I was beyond hysterical now, and I got the idea for some reason that a cold shower would help. It didn't. In fact, it only served to mat my thick sheepdog coat as I fell to all fours. I knew I would be losing all intelligence soon, and I simply couldn't deal with it. With my last bits of human thought, I knocked a bottle of scotch over and lapped up its contents. This helped me disappear into blessed oblivion.
***
I can't begin to describe the immense shame I felt the morning after my first change. I woke up in a puddle of Scotch and what smelled like dog urine, embarrassingly enough. I guess I wasn't potty-trained as a dog. Yes, last night, Vice President Sandy Strauss had turned into a dog. A sheepdog, of all breeds. My head was pounding, and the morning light hurt my shut-tight eyes.
As I placed my hand over my eyelids to block the remaining brightness, I heard Debbie Foster, company president, shout, “What the hell happened here? Oh, my God, Sandy, you contracted CTD! Everyone out!”
As much as I'd wished it had all been a dream, I knew it wasn't, and Debbie's words only served to prove it. I pried open my eyes, wishing I hadn't. First of all, the action introduced a new pounding in my head that had not been there previously. But more embarrassing was the fact that the office was a mess. Papers were strewn everywhere, the phone hung off of the desk, and the room stank. The air was so ripe it made me gag. I guess I'd retained my dog sense of smell, because I could also identify everyone in the room simply by their odor. I was hardly surprised at this, for after each change, the CTD victim would retain more and more canine features. I probably had some leftover gray or white hairs as well.
I had no clothes on, and I didn't see where I had stripped them off as a mindless animal, so I weakly curled up in an effort to cover myself. “Oh, I really, really have it...” I sobbed. Then several men in Hazmat suits stamped through the door. Hardly fazed by my nakedness, one tossed some kind of sheet over me, muttering “cover yourself, Ma'am,”. The others grabbed my arms and escorted me out of the building. They put me in the back of a truck and locked the door. Alone, I sat down on a bench. I think the truck was supposed to be some type of ambulance, but from the way I'd been treated, it felt more like an animal control vehicle. And I was being taken to the pound.
***
I was placed under mandatory quarantine. That very first day I was shut in my house, all I could do was stare at my new gray hairs in the mirror and sob. Then I laid around for days, alternating between sleeping and crying. I felt like I had hit rock bottom, and there was no reason to live.
Sometime during the endless weeping, I felt my feet begin to itch, and I knew that my second change was coming. Cursing, I ran into my room and put socks on my feet so I wouldn't have to see them change. But my growing nails simply ripped through the material, destroying the pair.
I started to cry, amazed that I had any tears left after the gallons I'd shed.
Meanwhile, my fur was coming in.
“No, no,” I murmured, actually watching it grow. I pressed down on my arm, as if to stop its progression, but nothing helped.
What was particularly frightening was my vision. I could see the color draining from my very world, which threw me into a panic.
My tail burst through my underpants so violently that they simply ripped open, and I didn't care at this point. Who worried about panties when they were metamorphosing into a dog? I stripped the undergarment off, slicing open my skin with my nails. I could not remove my bra at all, but it didn't matter, because I was shrinking so fast that I was soon able to back out of it. The pressure in my face led to my snout expanding so quickly that my changing skull seemed like it would explode.
I fell to all fours and blacked out.
***
I felt so dirty after I changed back. I ran into a shower, wishing I could simply wash off my CTD. My vision was not quite back to normal, and I assumed this would only get worse. On my way to the bathroom, I marveled at the mess I'd made of my house. Normally my home was immaculate. Nothing was ever out of place. Now it looked as if I'd been robbed. Anything that was not nailed down was strewn about the floor. My priceless jade sculpture was in pieces in the foyer.
And I didn't care.
The water felt good going down my skin, and I made a sad-hearted moan. I could see I was not as hair-free as I usually was. Light fur, like peach fuzz, was now on most of my body, most obviously on my chest and face.
I glanced in the shower mirror to discover I had most definitely gained more whitish-gray hairs. That was fixable, however. Hair dye would work fine here.
But the worst shock was not my hair. I was almost okay with the grays.
I had retained floppy ears this time.
“No, no! That's not real,” I shouted at my image. I was still in complete denial. I stamped across the bathroom and put the mirror away. I resolved not to look at myself again.
But when I blew dry my hair, I could feel my ears flop against my head.
I had my badge of shame.
***
I called my mother frequently for support, but most of the time the conversations were about me wanting to kill myself. I just couldn't imagine living life knowing that I could turn into a dog at any point. My mother said that many people actually wanted the disease, stating that some people were able to control the changes and even transform at will in the later stages. I thought of that news reporter, loving his sheepdog wife. Too bad men were immune to CTD. I wished that man would turn into a dog. Let him see how awful it was.
***
Finally I gathered up my strength and decided to see if anything could be done. In between bouts of crying, I started to search for ways to fix my condition. I read up on a woman named Shannon who was posting YouTube videos of her CTD experiences, which my mother kept urging me to watch. Kids loved to view her antics as a dog, and fellow sufferers found comfort in her talks about life with CTD. “Feel the fun” was her battle cry, and she encouraged victims to make light of their situation and enjoy it. For some reason, this angered me. I was too important to have to deal with this! It wasn't fun! It was a blight on humanity!
I hadn't viewed the videos yet because I was so freaked out by transformations. Shannon's videos often showed her changing throughout, and I couldn't bear to watch that. I couldn't bear to see what was happening to me. So I began to research 'cures'.
The first 'cure' I tried was to spread marmalade on myself an hour before the changes. Unfortunately I was not sure how to time this right. An hour after the application, I was still sitting in front of my computer in bra and underwear, slimy but completely human. I had a feeling I hadn't been cured quite yet, so I decided to add on an additional 'cure', dandelion water.
I took a sip of the bitter liquid, which some said was a miracle CTD cure, and I gagged. Another sip led me to the bathroom where I began to vomit uncontrollably. As I did, I began my third change. The transformation came quickly, perhaps spurred on by the anger, pain, and hysterics – or maybe it was just the dandelion water.
My fur pushed through the marmalade and matted up. Nearly hysterical, I grabbed the jar of marmalade and began rubbing more and more of it onto my skin, crying, “Stop! No! I. Have. To. Stop this!!”. But the very shape of my hand had shrunk to paw size and form, and I couldn't grip the jar any longer. It crashed to the floor. I crumpled beside it, the changes proceeding at a furious pace.
The last thing I knew, I was on all fours, still retching into the bowl. “Oh, my coat's getting so dirty. I'll need to be bathed and groomed,” was my last coherent thought.
***
I awoke in a sticky mess. I had marmalade-encrusted furry plaques all over my body. The jam must have yanked out half of my fur as I changed back. I guess it was good that I had no memories from when I was a dog that night because they undoubtedly would have been painful ones.
Perhaps I didn't do much damage in dog form this time because I was so sick. However the house had a sickly-sweet smell, a mixture of vomit and marmalade. I ran back into the bathroom, gagging once more. Then I took a shower. The marmalade was also a mess to get off, and the bottom of the shower stall was now laced with dog fur. My fur.
After, I went to the mirror to see what doglike quality I had retained this time. My hair was almost all white now, and I wondered if I should even bother dyeing it. It wasn't like anyone was going to see me this way. But then I looked at my palm.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped. My horror quickly turned to depression. An honest-to-God paw pad met my eyes.
My hand was actually a very interesting mixture of paw and hand. I still had fingers, but the nails were thinner and pointed, as if on their way to becoming claw-like. This wouldn't be so bad if they were mid-transformation, but they now would stay like this until my next change. Then they'd get even worse.
Seeing black paw pads sticking out from my palms made me want to retch yet again. I ran my fingers over them, tracing the bumps and crevasses. They were soft and puffy, just like any normal dog's were.
My feet felt funny, and I dreaded to view what was going on down there. I walked a step and felt my nails click against the tiles.
My toenails had never been that long.
Finally I took off my socks to see what I knew was there. My toenails were also claw-like, and the soles of my feet were growing paw pads.
With a gulp, I went back to observing my hand, both fascinated and unnerved that my body could do this. I pressed my palm down on the table and marveled that I could feel through the paw pads. And they were amazingly sensitive.
Taking several cautious steps, I was shocked at the same sensation in the pads on my feet.
This was real.
***
I think this was where I finally came out of the denial stage. The paw pads somehow wrenched me into stark reality, and I went barefoot from then on. I threw myself into CTD research in earnest – starting by watching my first Shannon video.
Seeing her changes were jarring at first, but with each video, witnessing them grew easier. And after being shocked by how happy she was with her 'ability to change', I settled down and finally listened to what she had to say.
“Look how much fun we have as dogs!” a clip came on of two sheepdogs tugging at a toy. They growled and yanked at it, wagging their tails in earnest. They appeared to be any two normal canines, simply having a good time. “When can an adult human do this? And both Talia and I here are completely in control. We're humans in dog bodies, and we're playing with toys!” Another clip showed the two dogs catching frisbees in a park. “When's the last time you caught a frisbee in your mouth? I have never had so much fun in my life! Even as a child! Feel the fun, guys! Feel it!!”
“Right. Feel the fun,” I grumbled, running my new claw down the chair handle. Who wanted to play with toys when there were so many important matters to attend to? Who was taking care of her tasks at work? Debbie? Pete in accounting? No one could handle that position like her! The company was going to fall apart!
“Feel the fun,” I repeated, staring off into the distance.
How could I have fun? I was quarantined and would soon be completely canine for a bit.
I stared at the happy animals darting across my computer screen. A wave of loneliness washed over me. It was nice that Shannon had someone to be with through her ordeal. If only I had company, perhaps CTD wouldn't be as bad. I thought of calling up Danny, but quickly decided against it. All he would probably do was mock me. And give me dog food.
And here was the big problem that most CTD sufferers faced. Would they eat dog food or people food? All the experts recommended “dog food in dog form” as it contained the proper nutrients for the canine body. They stated that it wasn't bad to indulge in dog food when human if the cravings came up. Apparently they did in the later stages. Sufferers noted the intense urge for meat, and they usually succumbed to the lure of canine food.
I, however, refused to eat dog food at any stage, no matter how good it was for me. It was demeaning, beneath me, and I wasn't looking to be a healthy dog. I was looking to be human only! There were services that would bring the dog food to your door and even set it up for you so you could “dine happily as a doggy”. Yes, that was actually a commercial for the new CTD-focused “Only the Best” premium dog food for people. The idea was unthinkable to me, and I didn't put any food out at all for myself when I was a dog. When I learned later that lack of nutrition makes the change last longer, I wanted to smack myself. But unfortunately, there's no changing the past.
My attention fell back on my computer. Shannon and her friend wagged their tails and panted, their long tongues lolling out of their mouths. How embarrassing was that? When I was aware in dog form, I resolved never to do any of these 'doggy' things. I had too much self-respect. Even if I was an animal.
Oh, God...I'm an animal...
***
I still had hopes that I could rid myself of my affliction, so I tried Dr. Phil's “Miracle CTD Cure Diet”. It left me constantly starving, and I think, in addition to longer changes, it also made me change more times. I was beside myself.
Also it was harder and harder to wear clothes. I had given up on footwear a while ago, so I had observed my feet progress through each stage. After cycling through my tightest outfits, I gave up clothing altogether and wore my favorite silk bathrobe. Then I accidentally ripped it with my claws because it was so large.
***
My mom sent me one of the famous “CTD Care Packages” which consisted of some treats, premium dog food, and dog toys. I glared at them with distaste, but by now I was more dog than person, and the smell of the treats was heavenly. I ripped open the bag with my sharp teeth and stuck my snout inside.
“No, no... I'm not an animal...”
I stuffed the whole box away in the pantry and ran back to the computer. Here I discovered the “Pistachio Ice Cream Regimen”, brought to you by fellow CTD sufferer and artist Samantha Summers.
Any port in a storm...
Yet Samantha's brilliant suggestion, when I mixed it with lavender and shredded coconut as instructed, made me gain more weight than I had lost on Dr. Phil's diet.
***
Debbie Foster called me out of the blue. She was so angry that I could hardly make out her words. She had contracted CTD, and she blamed it all on me.
“Debbie, you know how many other people could have given it to you?” I protested.
“I was closest to you! I'm the one who found you!”
I knew there was no use arguing with her because there was no way of proving who was correct, so I let her rage on.
“I'm at the point where I have paws and doggy-nails all the time now! Do you know how demeaning that is?”
“Yes, Debbie. I going through it, remember?”
Something inside me was actually glad that Debbie had gotten it too. Like me, she'd been brought down low, and she definitely needed to be pulled down a few notches. She was rich, she was semi-famous, and she thought the world of herself.
But I also saw myself in her. I knew her pain.
“Stay barefoot. Watching the changes can actually be interesting. It reminds you CTD's very real,” was my only suggestion.
***
I have to say, my mother really did help me through this journey. “Mom,” I cried on the phone to her one day. “Oh, God...” I often had to repeat my words because I found it hard to form them with the snout I now had. “I can't take this... I have a tail now, and it hurts to stand on two legs only!” I fell to all fours, phone in paw.
“You're almost to the best part,” she replied softly. “You'll be able to play.”
“I don't want to play,” I moaned. “And I have dog vision now. I can only see blues and yellows. Everything else looks gray.” My stomach growled. I had to eat meat...
“Sandy, give in already. Feel the fun.”
“Oh, Mom! I hate that hip-hip-hooray crap. I turn into a goddamned dog, damn it!”
Mom continued on as if I hadn't spoken. “Sandy, feel the fun. Why don't you make a tape of yourself like Shannon did. People say it sheds a new light on the condition. It makes it personal.”
“It's already painfully personal. I can't wear clothes anymore.”
“Sandy?”
“What?”
“Can't you learn to love your ability?”
I felt the anger rising inside of me. “It's not an ability!”
“To transform into a dog isn't an ability? Okay, then it's more like...well, magic!”
“Magic, my ass.”
I remember cursing as I got off the phone, but I did set up a camera that night. It was kind of tough as my sheepdog bangs kept falling into my face. And I also almost broke the camera because I really didn't have hands anymore.
But watching myself made me turn another corner. Seeing the beautiful sheepdog bounding around the house made my eyes water with pride. I was lovely! My fur was shiny and long, my eyes a lovely hazel. I could see that it was wise that I had finally put my remaining breakables away because I was quite a boisterous, jolly dog.
And that made me laugh.
But what struck me most was this dog's eyes. I could see such joy in them. Maybe that's why I felt so relaxed lately. Either that, or all the napping I was getting was doing its job.
I woke up ravenous, and I was so close to being all-dog that I ripped open the CTD box from my mom and feasted on dog food. And it was amazing. Premium all the way for me, I decided then and there.
I felt great after that. I was done with stupid cures and diets. Dog food was the way to go.
And after seeing myself as a dog, I fell into true acceptance. I realized this whole experience was a badly-needed vacation, if nothing else.
***
After my next change, I was physically one-hundred percent dog. It was weird to be a thinking, calculating human in a dog's body, but it was refreshing as well. I had nothing to worry about. My family took care of the bills, I'd strewn ample food bowls all over the house, and I'd filled the bathtub with water in case I felt the need to bathe. I didn't want to be a stinky mutt, after all.
But now one of Shannon's phrases, “let yourself play”, ate at me, and I knew it was time to run.
After several minutes of jimmying the doorknob with my paws, I managed to swing the back door open. I inhaled the fresh air with great pleasure. The day was warm and sunny, and a sweet summery wind played with the trees. And the large back lawn looked like heaven for a dog.
The animal inside me stirred, and I bounded outside with abandon. I was free! I could run and jump, and there was no one to stop me or make fun of me. After all, this is what dogs were supposed to do!
There were so many smells begging for my attention out here that I didn't know which one to explore first. One particularly strong one led me to a rabbit hole. I had no idea there were rabbits in my yard! In fact, I never had bothered to come outside at all back when I was a stressed-out human. Who knew the yard was so beautiful? I guess the lawn guys did a good job, but I needed something more than trees back here. I needed flowers and bushes. I had to start gardening.
But right now I wouldn't be able to much except play, eat, and sleep, and that's exactly what I needed. What I was doing before was not living. It was a dog's life for me.
I nosed a ball outside and began chasing it.
***
This “Canine Complete Stage”, as they called it, was a milestone in the CTD process. Once the victim reached this point, he was no longer contagious, which excited me. I looked forward to people visiting. And when I changed back to human for the first time, my sister Ladya and my parents came by. I was so thrilled to see them that I started to change.
“Doggy time,” sang Ladya in a silly older sister-voice.
“Oh, I want to watch you change. Can I watch, Sandy?” my mom entreated.
I reddened, glancing at my father. He didn't say anything. He just looked very uncomfortable and ashamed. And this infuriated me.
“What's wrong, Dad?” I goaded him.
He shifted position. “Nothing. I just feel bad for what you've gone through.”
“You hate that your daughter's a dog.”
“She's not a dog! But she can turn into one!” my mother cried. I really think she was impressed with this. She was acting like I'd gotten another college degree or something.
“I'm sorry, Sandy. I am,” Dad murmured.
“Don't be. It's the best thing that ever happened to me.”
My family was silent, and my mouth (well, it was swiftly becoming a snout) fell open. My doggy tongue lolled out. In shock, I let my words rush over me in my thoughts, and I couldn't believe what I had just said.
But I believed it.
“Look at her go!” Ladya smiled. “She's seriously shrinking!”
Partially for effect, I got down on all fours while I still had some semblance of arms, and my mother was clapping. I felt a bit like a sideshow act, but I didn't mind too much. I was enjoying the attention.
“Oh, how fascinating!” she gasped. “It's beyond imagination! A human becoming a dog!”
My father grunted and turned away.
To rub things in, I barked at him and wagged my tail. I think he groaned.
“Are you done transforming?” Mom asked expectantly.
I looked down at myself. Paws, fur, four legs, floppy ears...yes, I was a sheepdog. I nodded my head vigorously.
Ladya gazed down at me. “Wow. I've only seen the transformation on TV. It's really amazing to see it in real life. Especially when it's your sister,” she winked.
My mother brushed her hands down my back. “And how lovely she is! Your fur is so silky, Sandy!” Her eyes lit up. “Oh! Would you like us to give you a bath?”
Ladya rolled her eyes. “Mom, she's not our pet. Plus she's perfectly clean. She just changed right now. Hungry, Sandy? We got you some extra-premium food in the car.”
Usually I was hungry after a transformation. But I was so excited that I had company, that I raced over to one of my balls, picked it up in my mouth, and dropped it at Mom's feet.
“Oh, you want to play?” she asked a bit awkwardly.
I nodded, my ears flopping back and forth.
“Uh...okay. Fetch!” she threw the ball into the trees, and I raced after it.
I think they were laughing at me, but I didn't care. My dog instincts were so strong, and all I knew was I had to get that ball! I had to get it at all costs and bring it back to Mom so she'd toss it again!
When I delivered my prize, Mom patted my back and said, “Good girl.” This I found slightly insulting.
I guess Ladya did too because she murmured, “It's Sandy, Mom. She's not really a dog.”
“Oh, but she is.”
We all looked up to see Dad coming towards us. His face was tight and red. “They say at this stage the instincts overpower the human mind. When would Sandy Strauss in her right mind chase balls and eat dog food?”
Mom looked crestfallen. “Sandy, are you having a good time?” she questioned hopefully.
I gave an exaggerated nod, giving a reproachful look at my dad.
“She's wagging her tail, Joan. At the same time she's giving me a nasty look. How do you explain that?”
I growled at him then. I was really getting furious. This was my father, and perhaps he could be closed-minded at times, but I was his own daughter! How could he be ashamed and dismissive of me like this?
“She's going to bite me like a common animal. Nice, Sandy,” he muttered, and walked off to the car. “Let's go home.” He called back to my mother and sister.
“Just ignore him,” Ladya suggested, patting me on the head. “He's being an asshole.”
“We'll be back with some steaks,” my mother smiled. “I'll have a talk with your father in the meantime. Go chase the birds!” she giggled, and they left.
Mom's last sentence left me cold. I know she was making a serious suggestion and it wasn't malicious, but it still stung. It's me in here, I wanted to cry at them. It's still Sandy! She's just in a dog's body!
People like my father were out there. They didn't understand the complicated set of emotions and experiences I was going through. Men especially couldn't fathom my plight as they were immune to CTD.
I knew I had to do something. I had to set the record straight on Canine Transformation Disorder. It wasn't a death sentence, and it wasn't anything to be embarrassed about. I realized I was finally happy like this, and I never knew joy like I did when I 'felt the fun'. I had to set down my experiences in writing so I could share my strength with the world.
***
Writing this book took a lonely but invigorating few weeks. Mom and Ladya often visited me, although almost no one else did. I realized I had been so into my old job that I never made the time to forge any meaningful relationships. Danny was often on my mind during this period, but I couldn't bring myself to call him. I was too ashamed at how I'd treated him. I didn't deserve a man like him.
***
Shannon put up a new website where women could post CTD pictures and videos. They ranged from women with white streaks in their hair to women who were completely dogs. Atop the page, it read: “WE ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL.” Shannon is wonderful.
***
Debbie Foster called me the other night. I was very anxious when I saw the name on my caller ID, but she began to gush on and on about how life-changing this was, and if I'd been the one to give CTD to her, she thanks me from the bottom of her heart.
And here I am now, writing the last paragraph of what I hope to be a great help to CTD sufferers and non-sufferers alike. Feel the fun, people. Let yourself play.

***
EPILOGUE TO THE SECOND EDITION:

I'm as shocked as anyone else that my book has become so well-known, yet here we are, printing a second edition! I never thought I'd be the author of a best-seller, but what's even more striking is how many lives I've touched. I get bombarded by fan mail to the point that I need someone to help me get through it. Most of these letters are heart-felt thank yous from sufferers and their families, and this inspires me to no end. I feel like I'm finally doing what I was born to do.
And my life has really picked up. After my father's reading my book, we've been working on mending our relationship. He had never visited me after that first time, but when the book came out, I think it made him understand more about my struggles, and he finally came by to make amends.
My schedule is full once again, but it consists of what I live for – speaking engagements and book signings. I love making people's lives better. I could never do that at my old job.
But I did take the time to call Danny. By now I was learning to bring on a change, which was exciting to me, and I felt I was ready to share with him again. He was so happy to hear from me, and he told me how he wished he was with me during my quarantine.
“Oh, Sandy, I wished I had you with me when you changed,” he said. “I thought about asking you to live with me when I found out you got CTD, even though you seemed like you weren't interested in me. The idea of you being all alone, turning into an animal...I would have watched you, and fed you, and petted you...” His voice grew quiet. “I just wanted to see you like that...”
So all that time, I could have been taken care of.
Maybe that would have made my journey a little easier, but again, there was no changing the past, so I forged ahead. Danny loves when I'm a dog. He plays with me, feeds me, and even grooms me. I'm at the point that I'm post-CTD, meaning I don't have spontaneous changes. But I retained the ability to change at will. And sometimes, it's really fun.
I'm writing this epilogue after coming off the set of “Your Daily Morning Show with Gloria Meeker”. What a wonderful experience this was! Gloria interviewed Shannon and me, and the studio audience gave us a standing ovation. When the interview was done, both Gloria and the audience begged us to change. And we did in front of everyone. The first thing I did in dog form was to jump onto Gloria's lap and lick her face, which set her into hysterics. Then Shannon and I bounded around the studio, getting our fair share of admiration and pets. Then one of the producers tossed a frisbee to Shannon and she caught it in her mouth. Even when we were off the air, people took turns playing with us, and the whole gathering spilled out into the field behind the studio, where several other CTD 'survivors' transformed and then ran with us.
The thank yous and embraces from teary audience members stick with me, and I look to the future with great hope. As I write, great strides are already being made. A 'half-cure' called CTSlower should be on the market soon. It slows down the victim's change if she is out in public or can't change fast, giving her time to get somewhere safe. It's heartening to see so much is being put into our cause. Meanwhile, I've joined forces with Shannon and her friend Talia in their outreach efforts. I'm also planning to contribute the proceeds of this edition of my book to CTD studies. A small part of it will go to men's CTD research. Danny really wants to be a dog too.