In which I undergo a transformative change and venture to show my new face in public

“While strolling through the park one day
In the merry merry month of May
I was taken by surprise
By a pair of roguish eyes
In a moment my poor heart was stole away.”

As I sat with pen in hand, or keyboard at fingers, to set down this entry to what is apparently a moderately well received journal (more on that later) I was listening to the soothing emanations of Radio Riel.  They list the theme of the day as Contemporary Instrumental, although a May Day Eve event begins shortly.  For some reason, possibly because of the plethora of May Day/Beltane/Walpurgisnacht celebrations in the offing for this weekend, the song quoted above came into my head.  A quick enquiry with the services of Mr. Google & Co.  brought to light some interesting, and hithertofore unknown to me, pearls of knowledge regarding the tune commonly known as “Strolling Through the Park“.  If you will permit me, before plunging into the primary focus of this missive I would like to share a few of them with you.

First, the original title of the tune is “The Fountain in the Park”(1).   It was penned in 1884 by Robert Keiser, a prolific American composer of the time, under the nom de plume of Ed Haley.  It is the most enduring and well known of Mr. Keiser’s songs, perhaps due to a lyric that was, in 1884, considered marginally risque.  Other songs written in that same year that continue to have enourmouspopular appeal include  “Oh My Darling, Clementine” by  Percy Montrose,  and “Rock-a-bye Baby” by  Effie I. Canning.(2)


Now, on to what I actually wanted to write about. 

Several days ago I underwent a rather startling change of appearance.  I was just puttering around in my wee cottage when I suddenly sprouted hair, nay fur!, from every pore of my skin.  It itched, oh how it itched!.  It liked to drive me mad from the itching.  I writhed and convulsed upon the floor, tossing cushions hither and yon in my distress.  I fear I may have even uttered a most bestial sounding roar.  It is a good thing the ponies that pull the Magellan carriages are used to the presence of Mr. Magellan’s tiger else I would have surely startled the poor beasts clear out of their wits.

When the sensations finally subsided I was weakened as from great exertion.  I merely lay there gathering my strength for a while.  I then felt and looked about my person and confirmed that I was now covered in fur, mostly white with black striping.  Eventually I could muster the strength tobring myself to a sitting position.  The table of my sitting area has a glass top.  I pulled myself thither fearful at what I might see.  It was precisely as I feared.  Rather than the face that had greeted me nearly since birth I now beheld a visage resembling more the aforementioned tiger.  Indeed, I now had the appearance of a white bengal tiger, complete with stripes ears and a tail. 

I would blame the moon, but, owing to an orbital peculiarity it is always full in the SL metaverse.  Nevertheless, what could I make of this transformation?  Had I succumb to some form of pantheroid lycanthropy?  Perhaps my association with many of the  felinoid citizens of Caledon had triggered a sympathetic reaction.  Maybe this was a manifestation of those carniverous appetites so recently, and eloquently if I may say so, expressed by my animus.  Whatever the cause, was this a permanent condition?

Perhaps I should enlist the aid of the fellows of the Royal Society to investigate.  Then again, perhaps the Caledon Paranormal Society would be better equipped.

Regardless, I can’t very well remain locked up in my cottage fretting away.  After all, there are balls to attend and duties to perform.  I have ventured forth about my usual occupations this week and the response to my new look has been overwhelmingly positive.  Also, I must confess it is growing on me.  So, even if there were a treatment, I’m not so sure that I would take it now.

(1) Barbershop Harmony Society,

(2) Wikipedia, 1884 in Music,

Published in: on 30 April, 2009 at 3:10 PM  Comments (8)  
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8 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Welcome to the Feline Side of the Force! Many of the Best People in Caledon are cats…

  2. Thank you, Miss Untermeyer. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go update my many profile protraits scattered about the aetherwebs.

  3. Ah, nothing quite so elegant and dignified as a large cat. Why seek to treat something that isn’t a disease? 🙂 I’ve had the pleasure of seeing the results of your recent transformation; it’s quite charming. Besides which, you are not alone. Caledon has many wonderful felines within its borders, as you no doubt know or will soon find out. Slainte, Mr. Plutonian!

    • Miss Woolley,

      After having several days to become comfortable in my own skin, as it were, I am inclined to agree with you.

  4. how distressing for you! have you resingned yourself to your new feline state or are you searching for a cause or a cure? and if i may be so bold, though i never quite thought i would say this…your stripes are quite striking, mayhap you will make peace with this new phase of your existence…mayhap it is meaningful and marked for something significant? just musings.
    ~Capt. Red

    • Capt. Llewellyn,

      While at first the transformation was indeed a shock I have in fact become quite comfortable in my new skin, as it were. To be perfectly honest, I have come to realize that this form more truly reflects my nature. The Animus must have realized this and so took steps to manifest the change. I can see no reason, at present, to seek a return to my previous state.

  5. Hello Mr Plutonian, I come here by way of your posting on the Steelhead Ning and I’m shocked to hear of your (now not so recent) change. I too found myself altered by this strange would we find ourselves in, only in my case it was a somewhat painful and distressing affair…

    • Thank you, sir, both for reading this journal and for your comments. It seems we share a similarity of experience. Although, your transformation appears to have been considerably more traumatic than my own. It is fortunate that we find outselves in a land where such as we are accepted, nay welcomed, into their communities.

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