A short while ago I was a participant in one of those circular ‘what-if’ conversations in which my friends and I considered what we’d put on our wishlist if we could have influenced the evolution of the human body which, lets face it, is a kluge. A work in progress. (And probably not in the right direction.)
One friend put her orders in for sharks’ teeth. Not for their pointiness and general fiersomeness, but for their ability to regrow after falling out. This would be very handy indeed.
By the time I was asked for my two pennies’ worth regarding anthropological improvements, all the good suggestions had been taken so I offered human tails. I suppose at the time I was imagining long, muscular tails reminiscent of a wallaby’s, the sort that would require extra holes in our trousers. (The logistics of clothing also came up.) Chairs and toilets would require a complete rethink, which would influence home design. On the upside, depending on the ‘dexterity’ of the tail, you might be able to wipe the coffee table down with a cloth shaped as a tail sleeve while at the same time dusting the bookshelf with your hands, or even reading a book.
photo by Terry Bain
As we had this conversation, a friend’s dog trotted past, and I suppose I might have been subconsciously inspired by this sight, to be honest. Because this little terrier was happy as Larry, and its tail wagged excitedly as it played with the kids on the grass.
This got me wondering whether tails would be under humans’ conscious control. A great wagging tail would be a true liability if we were at a funeral, say, not-so-secretly pleased that the bane of our lives had finally kicked the bucket. A dog’s emotions are so readily accessible just by observing its tail, which is the endearing thing about dogs, but would not be an advantage in human-world, where social smiling, appropriate hand gestures and faux confidence do wonders in advancing status and greasing social cogs.
Of course, if you go back far enough in prehistory, our ancestors did have tails once, hence the ‘tail bone’. It’s called the coccyx, which may come in handy for Scrabble. So stick that one up your sleeve for later. Also, some people are born with ‘soft tails’. (Nobody believed me at the time, and none of us had actually seen one in real life, but it would seem to be true.)
You’ve no doubt heard of people who experience ‘phantom pain’ in limbs which have been removed. An example in the news this week is a 57-year-old woman whose right hand was amputated after a car crash when she was 18.
[RN] has never had a right index finger: she was born with a congenital deformity that gave her only the rudiment of a thumb, immobile ring and middle fingers, and no index finger at at all. More than 35 years after the amputation, she feels pain in a phantom right hand, which has five—not four—fully mobile fingers.
Since we live in a bizarre and wacky world, I’m wondering how many individuals suffer pain in a phantom tail. Surely there must be some, if not living now, over the course of history? Naturally, there would be many more instances of phantom tails if we actually had tails, because a good number of those would suffer amputations after unfortunate events.
So I’d probably go with the renewable teeth modification. Which, by the way, may not be so far fetched.
