Anyway, I’ve been a dog owner all my life, but I’m always
open to learn new things. Like yesterday when I decided to trim Mercy’s
toenails. My experience taught me some important lessons that I want to pass on
as a public service.
Lesson #1: Help the puppy
become comfortable with the trimmer. This is such a good idea, and how I
wish I could have done it. Puppies are evidently not fans of toenail trimming.
Yesterday Mercy seemed to think that I was revving a chainsaw rather than holding
a tiny little trimmer. So we didn’t really get to the “comfortable with trimmer”
stage.
Actually, when she saw the trimmer and instantly sized up
the situation, she seemed to go through the five stages of death and dying.
First was denial. Oh,
HECK no. This is NOT happening, she seemed to say. She ran like the wind,
sailing over couches and chairs, charging up the stairs and into closets,
effortlessly eluding my grasp. But of
course with my superior human brain I had locked the front door, and she hasn’t
learned how to flip the dead bolt. Yet.
Then anger. You
are the WORST human being on this planet, and I promise you I will make this
right. It might not be today or even tomorrow, but sooner or later you’re going
to find a little present in one of your shoes…She was fuming. By this time
I had cornered her and was telling her, in the ridiculous baby-talk we use for
dogs, “What’s the matter, little puppy dog? You’re all right, you’ll be just
fine.” So I nabbed her.
Third is bargaining. Okay, okay, how about a face-lick? See, I’m wagging my tail. You’re
really a very fine person, and I respect you ever so much. But right now I
think we should go outside and get some fresh air. How about we play with the
ball? But I am on to her tricks and was having none of it.
Fourth, depression. She refused to look at me or the
trimmer. Just do whatever you have to do
with me. I’m only a little dog, and you can beat me and mistreat me and there’s
NOTHING I can do. She slumped down on my lap, ears drooping and tail curled
between her legs.
The fifth stage is acceptance. Which I admit was
temporary. I did use pieces of broiled chicken and bacon, and this helped her
accept her fate for the first five toes.
Lesson #2: Hold the
puppy in a comfortable, relaxed position so you can easily reach her paws. Yeah,
right. I outweigh Mercy by 120 pounds, but she must be working out. She is
supernaturally strong, and so my idea of holding her next to me on the couch
turned into a kind of MMA bout. But eventually, by pretty much lying on top of
her, we were ready to begin.
Lesson #3: When you
trim the toenails, be careful to avoid cutting into “the quick.” See, each
toenail has the hard, naily part at the end, and that’s what you’re supposed to
trim. But behind that is a softer, more sensitive part called the quick, which
is basically a bunch of nerve endings attached to an artery. If you cut into
the quick, two things will happen. The dog’s foot will bleed and the dog will
move so quickly that she will actually time-travel, hurtling across the room so
as to slow the rotation of the earth. She might also make a sound that instantly
stops traffic throughout the hemisphere.
So I did that. Cut the quick, I mean.
I should also point out that our son just installed a beautiful
laminate floor in our living room. Within about four nano-seconds, that floor
looked like a crime scene as Mercy jettisoned across it, spurting blood from
her toe and yelping like I had just tried to kill her.
So anyway, I guess my last lesson is, Do not attempt puppy toenail trimming without the aid of trained
professionals. Or at least delegate this to your wife, whom the dog prefers
anyway.
Thus endeth the lesson.
