There was a full moon that night, but it was only a coincidence: he didn’t need it to change. That’s an old wives’ tale, like garlic for vampires.
He was a dog at first so as not to attract attention. When he was in the thick forest away from the houses, he became a black panther; lithe, sleek, fast, it was his favorite form. He’d only seen them in books of course, never in life, but he liked to think he made a good panther.
The white rabbits he caught, killed and ate as a panther probably agreed, if grudgingly.