How (not) to Trim the Cat’s Nails

Once in a great while, it comes to pass that the cats nails have become so pointy and sharp that there is no other alternative but to make them shorter. This daunting task is confusing and terrifying. Only professional cat owners should even attempt the scenario.

  1. Locate the cat. Make sure it is asleep, or at least comfortable. If the cat is running around or hissing or agitated in any way, abort the mission and hide under the bed.
  2. Gently scoop up the cat. If the cat is distressed or displeased by its new altitude, attempt to soothe it with gentle words. When that fails, wrap the cat in a large towel like a burrito.
  3. Realize you have forgotten the clippers. Put the cat down and watch it escape to freedom. Locate the clippers, and repeat steps one through two.
  4. Hold the burrito cat securely under one arm. If this is not secure enough, add a knee or two until the cat can’t move. It may still struggle, in which case you might have to enlist the help of a friend or family member or Hercules if he’s available.
  5. Once the cat is secure, attempt to trim one nail.
  6. After you have cleaned up your blood, start again at step one.
  7. After two out of four paws have been trimmed, you are entitled to a short break and a large glass of whiskey. Take deep breaths and don’t worry about the way the cat is glaring at you with extreme hatred in its eyes; that is a normal cat expression.
  8. After three out of four paws have been trimmed, you may need to abandon hope until another day. If you manage to trim four out of four without losing an eye, congratulations, you have reached the level of Master.

Cringer on a Suitcase

Whenever the suitcase comes out, Cringer spends most of his sleeping hours (and let’s face it, as a cat, most of his hours are sleeping hours) sprawled across it in varying levels of comfort.

“Suitcase, my old friend. We meet again. What’s that, you say? It’s time to sleep? It could very well be.”

There are several reasons for this.

1. It has fascinating smells from the airports it’s been to.

2. It is terrifically comfortable, and conforms to his contours or whatever.

3. It signifies that the human Mommy is going on another trip, and he must do what he can to prevent her leaving.

“I could get used to this. In fact, I’m already used to it. I think I’m asleep. Sweet.”

I like to pretend #3 is the main reason. Cringer gets mopey and whiny when I go away, and I expect multiple texts of “he’s so annoying” which means I taught him well. He’s a big scaredy cat momma’s boy and what more could I, as a crazy cat person, ask for?

My Grammie says her cats all used to do the same thing, presumably for the same reasons. They weren’t sentimental and goopy like Cringer, and I don’t think they spent a lot of time whining for their mother, but at heart they loved their humans.

Dogs might be more loyal in theory, but this little guy greets me when I come home, cries when he wants me to come to bed for cuddles, and rarely purrs for anyone else. That’s loyalty, right there.

“Unnnghhh suitcase mmm dream mice.”

Plus he doesn’t shit on the floor like the other cat, so there’s that.