Tuesday, January 18, 2005

The Dog and Me in Hell

So, everyone who comes to visit us eventually ends up bitching about how long Mrs. Wigglebottom's nails are. It's true. They are long enough to make her sound like maracas as she runs across the kitchen floor. But, as god as my witness, I am never cutting her nails again (with two exceptions). Here are the reasons: 1. She doesn't like it. 2. I don't like it. 3. I'm never sure how short to cut them. and 4. Dear God, the blood!!!!! There's always one nail that bleeds like a fucking oil gusher no matter how little actual nail material you cut off. You could take a sliver so thin the vet would need a microscope to see it, so thin that physicists would come to examine the particles making up the atoms that make up the cells that would all be visible, and that nail would bleed like crazy. And it's not like it's the same nail every time so that you could just say "Well, won't cut the right front pinky nail." Here are the things that were blood-splattered: 1. The Butcher's pants. 2. Most of the dog. 3. The new couch of sleepiness 4. The carpet 5. Me. 6. Various tissues I used to stop the bleeding 7. The cat who had to come over to see what was going on. 8. The kitchen floor Here are the two exceptions: Her thumbnails. I don't want them to curl around and stab her in the paw. But the other eight I'm done with.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

I feel your (and the dog's) pain. My sister used to cut our dog's claws when we were in high school and although there was no blood the dog used to cry so hard you'd think my sister was pulling the nails out, not cutting them. She owns a dog now and will not cut his nails herself because it is too damn hard for her to do.

The only thing worse than this (in pet care) that I can imagine is the incident when I was an assistant cat bath giver. We did two cats (the vet said to bathe them, this was not something cooked up by mean and crazy people just for kicks, despite what the cats may tell you) and the timid cat that only vocalizes about the excitement of getting food in the morning hissed like the devil when the head bath giver put her in the water. I cannot describe how much this hiss sounded like the devil except to say that chills actually went up my spine and I was tempted to start chanting, "The power of Christ compels you...to scratch and bite us all you please but never to hiss like that again." I still don't like to think about it late at night if I'm alone.

For those of you who know I am now mildly allergic to cats, I feel compelled to mention that I ended up running down to the garage in the pajamas I wore for the event to wheeze and gasp and hack my way to something like normal breathing. I was offered the opportunity to leave during the bathing, but I kept thinking I was fine since I was only coughing a little. The cats' owner has since vowed never to ask me to help him with this again. Which is a good idea. It was like the olden days when I was deadly allergic.

Soo....if I get my own pet I will not get a cat so it will not hiss at me like satan. Which leaves me with dogs, most likely, so I will have to look for a breed without nails. And for the record, I never noticed how long her nails were the last time I was down. :)

I need an old cat bath giver and a young cat bath giver - SuperGenius

1/18/2005 02:05:00 PM  

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