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“Why is there a wolf on that wall,” I wondered.

“Oh wait. It's a dog. No, it's a wolf. It's a dog. It's a wolf.”

Then I realized I was staring at a stone carving of my new mascot, my new university's spirit animal: a husky.

And since I was now a student here, this meant that in magic-speak I too was now a husky.

I had never thought of myself as a dog before. A wolf, that I could get behind. But what I liked best was the duality inherent in my first reaction. Was this animal a lone wolf or a pack dog? Why choose? Why not be both? Was this animal an independent hunter and a secretive slinker, or was this animal a playful friend and a loyal helper? Again, why not be both?

Now that I was a husky, I had to worry. Was some man going to put a collar on me and hook me up to a sled and make me work for him? I certainly hoped not. I didn't want to be tamed, and I didn't want to be put to work. But there were other characteristics I liked wearing. “Energetic, athletic, and hardy” all sounded like useful words that would help me get through the next three years. And dogs have wonderful somatic presence in their bodies. I personally preferred to be a large black cat, but perhaps adding this across-the-grain idea of being a wolfdog would teach me something new.

We'll find out.