My little brother is a “furry”, or fan of anthropomorphic characters. Think of Loony Tunes, Zootopia. And by fan, I mean fan. Commissions of his wolf fursona Zion plastered everywhere in his room, his twitter being nothing but furry art, and even occasional mentioning of “yiffing”. I looked that last one up. Do not.

But nothing could have prepared me for the fursuit. Three gigantic boxes with oversized head, mitts, body and paws of neon-green and red. $4500, unbelievable. But he spent it with his own cash, so you can’t complain.

And of course, what would be a weird hobby without others who also love that weird hobby? It was just in time for Vancoufur (get it?) and yippee, the convention was in our area. Out of fear of hurting himself in that fluffy monstrosity or blowing even harder through his cash, my parents forced me to go too. He was so excited I would be his “handler.” Because what else could I do with a Saturday?

The day arrives, and he flies down the stairs all dressed up. I asked if he was ready, and instead of a simple “yes”, I get a long wolf-like howl and a little sign on a stick that says, “I’m in character, and wolves can only howl!” Of course. Quite the convincing howl too, and when did his handwriting look like that?

I shrugged it off. We arrived and… oh boy. Was that convention something. Other fursuits galore, furry comics and books, and even body pillows of Nick Wilde and others in suggestive positions.

Halfway through the day I could see him tiring out so I steered us to the headless lounge: a place for fursuiters to take off their costumes for a break. But he refused to take it off. Just before I could rip it off myself, I suddenly got a call.

From my brother.

“Hell-hello?” I answered.

“Um, where the fuck are you guys?!” My brother shouted back through the phone.

“We’re-we’re here?”

“What do you mean ‘here’? You left without me! And why the hell did you unplug my alarm clock? And where the hell is my suit?!”

“Um… thanks for the offer, but we- we don’t it need it right now. Bye.” I said as I hung up, trying to not alert whatever the fuck was in front of me.

But the bead of sweat and wide eyes gave me away, because he-she-whatever it was already pushed me out of the way and started to run. I tried to chase after it but lost it to the sea of people.

We filed a police report, but nothing ever popped up.

That was until yesterday, somewhere after 2 A.M. I woke up to hear something rustling outside. I peeked through the window, and my heart sank.

Neon-green and red stared back at me, the head tilting curiously at me. It gave a great howl, now truly sounding like a wolf, before disappearing into the night.