I was concerned that it had no eyes.
I put it on the ground at someone else's encouragement and it started to become more sentient and active, moving over the floor with this strange undulant motion toward the shallow paddling pool our dog uses in summer.
It climbed into the pool and when I looked down it was swimming and had put out small limbs and looked up at me with a growl and half-snapped at my hand when I tried to touch it. It became jewel-green and had grown black eyes, primitive, like a blind worm's but shining and raised above the skin.
Then I found myself at some sort of public aquarium, the kind with curving glass walls, and I saw the creature swimming with the fish, graceful and independent of me, as though we were never part of one another. But that seemed like something that should always happen and I wasn't sad.