Not too long ago a debate raged in our household about whether or not to declaw Tabby. That debate has sort of died out ever since I “cowboyed up” and learned to trim Tab’s nails.
I’ve had a couple more successful goes at Tabby’s toes. She doesn’t mind me touching her paws and clipping away one bit. All I have to do is catch her in just the right docile mood. I’ve even gotten pretty proficient and quick at it. So much so I’ve decided to direct my newfound talents on the other four-legged members of our family, like Murphy.
He’s not as good as Tabby. Just like he doesn’t like taking baths, he’s not too keen on getting his nails clipped. It’s a two person job –one to restrain while the other clips. He doesn’t much care one way or the other if we touch his paws, but the second he spies the clippers he gets antsy. He might remember the time I nipped his quick, or it might be the sound, or he might even remember how nervous I used to get trying. I’m not sure, but I can only get about two clips in (if I’m lucky) before he’s had enough.
I don’t know that I ever tried to do Mr. Meow’s claws before this week. Maybe once many moons ago, but since his front paws are declawed there’s really not much need for it.
However, a couple of days ago he was up on my desk giving me a hard time like he used to. (Part of the huge strides he’s been making lately.) He’d wrapped his back leg over my arm to “hug” me like he does and I noticed how long –and sharp–his back claws were.
I eyed the clippers, which were on the desk from a previous Tabby-manicuring event. I shrugged and thought, “What the heck? A trim will do him good.”
So I let him sniff the clippers first, then I took a paw and positioned the snipping end in place. But before I could clip, Mr. Meow lunged at my hand and bit the clippers!
I cracked up. He got mad and stomped off. I half thought it was a fluke and his way of playing. But he did it again twice more after that on visits to my desk. Once after he let me snip one claw, and once before I could even get started again.
He’s a very odd cat, my Mr. Meow, but this is just further proof that the spitfire, show-no-mercy, take-no-prisoners wild thing that I’ve always known and loved is back. And he’s not about to let a pair of clippers get the best him!
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