“NO superfluous fur here.”

Yes, it means what you think it means. First came the term landscaping, then manscaping. And now, tailscaping. If you Google the definition of manscaping, you might be quite surprised at what you find. My favorite was this: To groom a man; shaving, waxing, cleaning up superfluous fur.” I love the sound of it. You might not believe that Olive requires some delicate tailscaping now and then. One look at her and you see the sort of beauty that comes from perfect symmetry. Beautiful lines, a deep chest, long graceful legs and… an ornamental tail. And then you might see just a tiny bit of superfluous fur protruding from the tip of her otherwise perfect tail. It is the only imperfection and to anyone with OCD, you’ll know exactly what I mean when I tell you that it must be corrected instantly. I can no longer think about anything else until I remove this asymmetrical imperfection. It looks messy; out of place. I pull the scissors out of the kitchen drawer. The minute Olives sees her reflection in the shiny blades, she starts backing away like she just recognized an old boyfriend at a party. In that instant, I feel like a remorseful Sweeney Todd. She continues backing up until she almost stumbles backward over her bed. Her body language gives everything away. She curls up on the bed like a fetus unwilling to give up the womb and tries desperately to hide her tail. I swear if she could unscrew it and stick it up her behind she would. Now I feel even more guilty. At this moment, I wonder if it brings back the neo-natal memory of having her tail docked. I can’t even think about it. I coo some nonsense to her softly while I gently reach down, pull her tiny taupe-colored crank towards me and swiftly clip a micron of superfluous fur off its tip. As I straighten up, I can feel Olive’s relief. I gently blow the bits of superfluous fur off the bed and observe her tail. “PERFECT, OLIVE,” I marvel. “JUST LIKE YOU.”