Clipping my Cat’s Nails: How Hard Can it Be?
Hint: It terrified me!
I asked myself, how difficult can it be to cut my cat’s nails? Being a first time cat owner, trust me when I say it filled me with fear.
I read about the quick, the pink, fleshy section that runs through the center of the nail. Lots of nerves and blood vessels congregate here. It’s important to avoid cutting into the quick to avoid causing pain, risking infection, and creating a potential bloodbath. This thought floated in my brain constantly.
I prepared my space: nail clippers, bandaids, Neosporin, tissues, styptic powder, and cat treats. I was ready for battle. My cat sensed my anxiety a mile away. I approached him and he scurried behind the couch. That was day one.
Days two through seven were replays of day one. Cats are smart. Mine noticed the nail clippers. Of course, what a fool I’ve been. I hid everything and waited for him to find me.
Day eight, he jumped into my lap. Hooray! However, the nail clippers perched on a table in the other room. I gently placed him on the couch and tiptoed to retrieve the clippers. I returned, but he disappeared. Probably enlisted in the cat witness protection program.
By day nine, I resembled a walking zombie. My dreams involved my cat mocking me with his long, sharp nails.
By day ten, my brain lacked enough sleep for me to think clearly. My cat sensed a change in mood and let me pick him up with all my cat tools nearby! I nuzzled him and whispered sweet nothings into his ear. As my body shuddered with fright, I pretended to be brave. I became a method actor and evolved into a courageous, confident cat owner.
I displayed his favorite treats on a snack table as he sat on my lap. He knocked them to the ground, bolted off my lap, and devoured the treats. He dashed away. I swear he was grinning ear to ear.
Day twelve, treats hidden in my sleeve, clippers in my pocket, I picked him up and gently put him on my lap. He purred. I kept repeating positive mantras: I can do this, I can do this, I can do this! As I stroked his paws, he became fidgety. I sang to him and we cuddled. He glared. I finally had his paw in my hand, clippers ready to cut, when I panicked, took too long, and guess what? Yep, he jumped off my lap.
Day thirteen, I called the vet and booked a nail trim appointment. I relaxed until the day of the mani/pedi. I then dealt with the arduous task of getting him in the carrier. My cat is no dummy. He knew where he was going and hid behind the heaviest piece of furniture I own. I had to call the vet, who was very understanding and postponed my appointment for two hours. I finally got him in the carrier, the whole time thinking maybe my next pet should be a goldfish? Neh, I love my cat.
The technician who trimmed my cat’s nails informed me he was the best cat ever. Such a good boy! I peered into the carrier, and my cat’s green eyes were wide and filled with innocence. The perfect angel.
In four weeks, I will repeat the process again. Sigh…
