Wil’s Tail

Hazel Hutchins

Wilmot James Edward Hutchins was the sixth wolf from the left at the school Christmas Concert. When the concert was over everyone said what a good Christmas forest creature he’d been and everyone admired his costume. Wil admired his costume too—especially the tail.

It was a wonderful tail. His mother had made it from the belt of her old fake-fur coat. Wil himself had sewed it to the seat of his favourite corduroy trousers. It was the kind of a tail that hung ‘just right’ and swung ‘just right’. It was the kind of a tail with which Wil could slink or jump; the kind of a tail he could twirl or drape; the kind of a tail he could curl smoothly around him. It had patterns and lines and colours in it that Wil had never even thought about before, and it was softer than anything he’d ever known.

When Wil got home, he hung the wolf mask on his bedroom wall. He put the sweater (his Dad’s) back in the big dresser drawer. He put the mittens (his sister’s) and the moccasins (his mother’s) back in the closet where they belonged. But he kept the tail.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Wil helped wrap presents and eat biscuits. When evening came, his family went to a party at the neighbours. Wil’s Dad wore his smart jeans. Wil’s Mum wore her party blouse. Wil’s sister wore sixteen hair-slides. And Wil wore his tail.

He wore it during supper and he wore it during games and he wore it during carol-singing. The neighbours thought it a bit strange, but they were too polite to say anything.

Wil was tired when he got home. He hung up his stocking and rolled into bed. His tail rolled into bed too, all except the tip which hung out over the edge.

On Christmas morning, Wil’s family hugged and kissed and opened presents and ate breakfast. They went to the cousins for the day. Wil’s Dad wore his Christmas tie. Wil’s Mum wore her Christmas perfume. Wil’s sister wore her Christmas brooch and her Christmas socks. Wil wore his Christmas tail.

Aunt Beth nearly had a heart attack when she stepped on it in the kitchen.

On Boxing Day, the family ate letf-overs and played 327 games of draughts. The next day they went shopping in the city. Everyone wore their everyday, ordinary clothes. Wil wore his tail.

The tip of it got caught in the escalator of Kruming’s department store. A loud warning bell went off. Two security people and three maintenance personnel worked to free the mechanism and every shopper in the whole store came to see the boy whose tail had been caught between the second and third floors.

For the rest of the week Wil stayed at home with his tail. He repaired it with an extra piece, so it was longer than ever. He built a den in the basement. He took long naps in front of the fire with the cat. And he waited for New Year’s Eve.

On New Year’s Eve the family always went skating on Whitefish Lake. Wil was planning on wearing his tail. He could just see himself streaking down the lake in the darkness; the wind rushing smoothly against his face and his tail flying far out behind.

But when New Year’s Eve came and he tried to tuck his tail up under his sweater, his mother looked at him and shook her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s dangerous. You’ll trip over it and fall and so will everybody else.’

Wil appealed to his father.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s dangerous. When you go and warm up at the bonfire you’re likely to set yourself ablaze.’

‘But it’s part of me!’ said Wil.

His parents did not agree.

‘All right,’ said Wil. ‘I’ll wear it but I won’t go skating and won’t go near the fire.’

His parents gave in.

Whiterish Lake on New Year’s Eve was wonderful. People from all over came to skate and laugh and warm themselves around an enormous bonfire. Wil climbed a little hill between the lake and the river which flowed beyond. He listened to the wonderful sound of skate blades on ice. He watched skaters passing hockey pucks, turning figures of eight, and playing tick. Just when he could stand it no longer and had decider take off his tail and put on his skates, he heard shouting behind him.

‘Someone’s fallen through the river ice!’ called the man.

‘We can’t reach them. A rope. A long scarf. Help! Anyone, please!’ called the woman.

Wil thought for only a moment. He reached behind him and pulled with all his might. With a rip his tail came loose. He raced down the slope. The woman took it without a word and disappeared into the darkness.

 

Wil never did get to go skating on Whitefish Lake that New Year’s Eve. By the time all the excitement died down, it was time for his family to go home.

But he did get his tail back. The woman who’d taken it made a special point of bringing it back to him. It was sodden and torn and about four feet longer than it had been to start with. Wil didn’t care. His tail had actually saved someone’s life!

The tail sits, these days, curled up in a special place, right in the middle of Wil’s bedroom shelf—an heroic Christmas tail.

 

Dennis Pepper
The Oxford Christmas storybook
Oxford : Oxf. U. P., 1993