Crouching down I leaned his head against my chest and reached over to cut his claws. Scout was laying on his bed, content after drinking a bowl of cereal milk. Now was the time to move in. He flinched every time the clippers came near his paw. I know he trusts me, but this exercise is too much for him sometimes. Slowly I cut each front claw being careful not to cut below the quick.
With the snap of each cut, I could feel his body tense as his mind raced to find an escape route.
Halfway through, he struggled to stand up, but I pushed him back down to finish the job. Grabbing his hind lower leg, I turned the paw so I had a vantage point. He pushed against my chest trying to move me away. The pads of his feet were rough, so I firmly placed my fingers between each one, while
gripping the top of the paw with my thumb. The back feet are tricky. It was hard to tell how much to cut. Snap, shiver, snap shiver. I was almost done, as I reached for the second hind leg.
Taking the last paw in my hand, I enveloped him to keep him calm and to be precise. He was anything but calm. I didn’t want to miscalculate the cut length and hurt him. Snap. Snap. Snap. Scout suddenly pushed himself into a sitting position, and was halfway to his feet, when I saw last claw that I trimmed. I made him bleed. Enough was enough, he wasn’t playing anymore. I felt so guilty as I watched him jump from his bed to cross the room. He layed down behind Jamie, giving me a distrusting hound dog look. I almost completed this pedicure without incident, but now I’m the bad guy.
Note to self (and others): leave the claw trimming to the professionals. Even if you have the confidence to do-it-yourself, in the end it’s not worth it. You can lose the trust of your best friend. Although, we are rebuilding our relationship with scratches and delicious cheese.