I can trace it back to when he was only a few months old.

Akiak wasn’t like any other pup of any other litter. He didn’t behave as any young canine was expected, and didn’t develop as quickly as the others did. While most kids were heading off to school and fostering friendships with neighbors, he stayed inside and kept to himself. For the longest time, he hummed a melody to himself. Still, to this day, I have no idea what the tune could possibly be.

Granted, he does take after his father, but I digress.

It had to have been his third month of life that his mother and I finally realized that something wasn’t right. She (she being the love of my life, Keziah) may not have been his blood mother, but she definitely took him in as such. The two were inseparable, and as I worked my long shifts at work to make due with what we had, she stayed with him to ensure he was taken care of. I returned from work late one evening (or morning, if you’d like to get technical about coming home at three in the morning) to find her still awake with Akiak. In between her sobs, she would tell me of how he wasn’t responding to her touch. He wouldn’t smile at her anymore, nor would he attempt to stand and maneuver across the room. Things had changed, and he needed help.

No amount of psychological evaluation or medical immunizations could make him “normal”. There was obviously something genetically altered about him. Acceptance of what he was becoming was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but once accomplished, I stood by my son through it all. I knew that this would come eventually. My son wasn’t at all bipedal. He had a very timid nature, and acted out of instinct at every instance. Ferality, once thought to be a natural state of being amongst us animals, was now a genetic defect. My son was now fighting to be equal to those around him.

In a world of advanced life forms living on two feet, side by side, my son would stand his ground on four.