The indignity of the situation was, frankly, appalling. One moment, he was a highly respected practitioner of the alchemical arts, the next, a creature barely a foot off the ground, entirely at the mercy of gravity and the whims of giants: a cat.

His attempt to seek aid had gone spectacularly awry, culminating in being scooped up from the cold, unforgiving pavement by a well-meaning, if slightly overly-enthusiastic, stranger.

Their immediate concern for his deliberately squinted eye was touching, in a condescending sort of way. Did they truly believe I am some hapless stray? He thought. Now, he endured the humiliation of a bath – a truly barbaric ritual involving copious amounts of lukewarm water and a foul-smelling, bubbly substance.

His fur, usually a source of quiet pride, was now a wet, pathetic mess. The indignity! And the sheer inefficiency of the drying process! And the food! A bowl of what appeared to be processed, fish-flavored…Anaxa mewled; well, he refused to entertain the notion further.

His human palate, accustomed to refined tastes and carefully prepared elixirs, recoiled at the mere scent. He turned his nose up, a silent, and he hoped, dignified, protest against such culinary atrocities.

Did they not understand that a being of his intellectual stature required sustenance of a far superior quality? As the unfamiliar surroundings began to fade into the soft glow of approaching dawn, a far more pressing concern settled in. I don't know how long will last this transmutation...but it should finish soon.

"...Meow!" No! I refuse you to call me Mr. Paw. Obscene! I'm Anaxagoras! Just wait until I'll be normal again in a few minutes. You little devil, this is a cat sequestration!