Mum always used to get cranky with me when I went outside. Said I was going to get myself in trouble. Said I didn't know what a big bad world it was out there. But I wanted excitement. I wanted adventure. I wanted to explore.
I got more than I bargained for. And the first of my nine lives was gone.
I can't really explain what happened. I guess I didn't see it coming. But I freak out now whenever I hear the sound of a big mean old nasty garbage truck approaching. Mum found me hours later. Hiding under the house next door. She didn't think it was me because I was a pale fascimile of my usual self. I was shaking, I was numb, I was in shock. I couldn't move my tail and I my paw hurt as well. I didn't even answer her when she talked to me.
She took me down to the elephant hospital. Well there weren't really any elephants there but that's what they had on the sign. And I had to stay there for days. They kept saying not today, you can't go home today. I'd cry when mum came in to visit me but they wouldn't let her take me home. And then they said that my beautiful tail had to come off. Because I couldn't move it, they said it would be too dangerous for me to keep it - I could get it stuck somewhere and injure myself more.
When I got back from hospital, Mum's flatmate started calling me stumpy bum. Bloody rude!
I kept looking for my tail, going to clean it as I was used to, but it was gone. It took a while to adapt to not having a tail. But now, I hardly even remember having one.
Some people think I'm a manx when they first meet me, but I'm more special than that. Because I lived to tell the tail!