When I was growing up, pets were a constant and an
inconstant. In other words, we always had them around, but they inevitably
didn't last too long. It wasn't from abuse or neglect or anything like that in
case you're worried (don't sic PETA on me). It was more just a by-product of
living on a road, that despite being in the country, saw an abundance of
travel. Needless to say, we had our fair share of saying goodbye to pets. I
still remember the time my parents sat me down at the kitchen table to tell me
the news of poor Pepper's demise. My response: "Guess we need to get
another doggie." Of course, it wasn't just dogs around the house.
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| PETA's Elite Police Force... |
My parents eventually decided we might have better luck
keeping cats alive so the time came to get me a kitty. Our first cat, Smokey,
rode home on the bottom of my mom's car. He was a nice cat even if he did smell
of exhaust fumes, hence the name. Since he was just a garage cat, it was only a
matter of time until he got out. When that happened, it didn't take long at all
for Smokey to reach his final resting place, flattened and spread eagle on the
side of a bale of hay.
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| You know, it's just what Smokey would have wanted... |
At this point, you're probably trying to figure out why I'm
sharing stories of my pets meeting their demise. For the record, I did leave
out the epic stories of Dog Dog, Joker, Coco, Ace, Whiskers, and Ginger. I'm on
a little pet kick right now because I found myself thinking about all of the
care that went into owning one, especially cats. You have to feed and water
them, change litter boxes, and keep them cleaned and well-groomed.
If I'm being honest, there's one part of cat care I hated
more than anything else: trimming claws. It was essentially a two-person job
with one person holding the cat and three of its limbs in place while another
cuts the claws on the remaining paw. It inevitably would end with the cat
essentially cursing you out before finally sulking off to pee on your pillow or
something for your transgression. This all came up because I found myself
thinking about my least favorite part of Ellie-care. That being trimming her
nails.
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| I'm talking about the shift in topics from pets to Ellie, of course. |
I'm not exactly sure how it happens so quickly, but Ellie's nails
grow at a ridiculous pace. Seriously, it feels like three days after they're
trimmed, her nails are approaching goblin status all over again. While this
might not seem like a big issue, the fact that Ellie hates having her nails
trimmed make it difficult. I can't really speak from experience since Bethany
hasn't allowed me to cut Ellie's nails after I drew blood the first time I
tried. However, that doesn't mean I haven't studied what occurs.
Bethany will first sit Ellie down in her lap and present the
nail clippers to Ellie as an initial peace offering. Ellie will then turn the
clippers over and over in her hands, studying them as one would study a can of
food without a label. Once she appears to be satisfied, Bethany takes the
clippers back, puts her arm around Ellie, and holds her tightly while
attempting to cut her nails. I say attempting because Ellie inevitably starts
wiggling as soon as her mother makes the first snip. Before I know it, Ellie is
screaming and kicking violently until Bethany finally has to let her go. With
that, Ellie will usually snatch the fingernail clippers from Bethany's hand in
an attempt to hide them where they will never resurface.
We've even tried the two-person method to get this task
done. All that does though is make the baby angrier. I can't say I blame her
though as I probably wouldn't like being forcibly held in place while my nails
are finally manicured. We've even tried using books, toys, milk, and food as
distractions to get Ellie's nails trimmed to no avail. Normally after about one
nail, she's done with it and ready to fight, bite, claw, and scratch until she
finally gets loose. And well, our arms can only take so much until they're done taking abuse.
At least there is a consolation to this whole thing. With cats,
we absolutely had to trim the claws or else they would curve into its paw pads.
Ellie's fingernails won't do that though. If anything, they'll just grow super
long and curly like that guy in the Guinness Book of World Records.
When that happens, then I can actively say I am a proud
father of a Guinness World Record holder. And well, that'd be pretty cool!
Right? #DaddyWrite
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| On second thought, ewww. |
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