Confessions of a Man with a Tail

I'm not happy about being the eighth wonder of the world. Not really how I'd like to be known.

But, yeah, I am. I have a tail. It's wagging right now.

It protrudes where things shouldn't stick out. Very curious.

I saw my doctor, asked about my tail.

She said, "Yes. Wow! You do have a tail."

Huh.

Didn't exactly instill me with confidence. As soon as I left the office, I checked out all of the local carnivals, inquiring if they had a freak-show opening. "Step right up to see the incredible Dog-Boy with a tail!"

How did this happen?

I wasn't born this way. It just sorta grew.

Specialist time. Even she was stymied.

"Oh, my," she said, "you've got a lotta things going on down there."

When you freak out a butt doctor, things aren't looking well. Again, not a confidence builder.

By the time you read this, my tail will be gone. Surgery scheduled yesterday, June 2nd. I'd like to keep my tail in a jar, remember the good times we shared, wagging when we were happy. I'll miss you, old friend.

Photos to follow!