In the past I had occasionally considered what kind of tail I might have had, if we hadn’t evolved them out. Something grand, like a proud and bushy fox tail. Or the soft insistent thump of a golden retriever. It would match my personality anyway: hopeless romantic, outgoing and friendly, a good listener. All the traits I’d listed for online dating.
My girlfriend had asked once, when we were lying in bed, would you still love me if I had a little piggy tail? And I’d said, of course darling, I would ping your tiny curl and watch it spring back with glee.