Playful Scars
OK, I’m hating myself for this, but I trimmed Albert’s front claws today (Cedric’s are already trimmed, although he doesn’t use them much).
It goes against my grain to blunt a cat’s defenses, but let’s face it, they’re not going to be in the great outdoors anytime soon. They’re still kittens, not quite the size of our neighbour’s cat. And, as kittens, they play a lot.
For some days now, I’ve been gathering up little bits of carpet. This morning, Albert was dangling from the curtains by one claw, which may have been the last straw: there are tell-tale punctures and tears in all the curtains, sheets and duvets. Occasionally, he uses me as a climbing pole as I sit and type, and his claws are like scythes. Since he and his brother wrestle a lot, he is used to playing rough. Only we don’t have a thick fur to protect ourselves.
It doesn’t help that John snatches his hand away and then dangles it over him, thus encouraging further horseplay. I’ve been caught out more than once myself, and my hands are criss-crossed with fine scars (they only just break the skin—it’s not as if Albert means harm, not compared to what he can do if he catches you by accident—but the skin on the back of my hands is angry and chaffed as a result).
We try to ignore Albert when he is in play mode, but to no avail. He doesn’t really care that much if we stop interacting with him and doesn’t make the connection. On the other hand, he may rub his chin against us and lick our noses one moment, then grab us with extended claws the next. It’s all the same to him.
So, enough. I went in search for the nailclips, some treats, and then for Albert.
I must admit that I was nervous. I waited until he started to wake up after a period of rest following the morning’s Grand Chase Around the House, then grabbed him and stroked him while I found the right position for the nailclip. He didn’t notice. He sniffed at the clipper, then wriggled towards the treats I had secreted in a pill box. It only took three attempts and as many treats, to trim the tips of his claws and afterwards he continued to rub his chin on my hand.
Kittens put up with a lot without hard feelings.
But I feel like a bastard.
Tags: Cats, pets, scars, Tadley Times, Tag Index
Denni