Budda’s Ordeal
My poor little man just got back from the vet clinic. He has been declawed and dejeweled. (meaning neutered) Upon returning to the gallery, he wandered around for half an hour, bemoaning his fate and telling me of all the atrocities he had witnessed in the past 24 hours. Both Mike and I, gave him loads of cuddles and love. Then he promptly passed out and slept most of the day away.
I thought we might get lucky and not have to declaw him. He started out being so good. If I caught him sharpening his claws a firm Budda No! was enough to get him to quit. Unfortunately as he got older instead of stopping, he would just pause, then continue on in double time. As I would reach threateningly for the spray bottle, he would scamper off quickly, chuckling to himself at what a clever kitten he had become. So alas, to the vets we went.
Personally, I can barely tolerate the thought of the whole declawing thing. As a vet tech, I assisted on all sorts of procedures. Nothing turned my stomach, and I do mean nothing. This was a skill that was learned early in college. I had dissection class before lunch. Trust me, you do that for a few weeks and pretty soon, very little grosses you out. Except that is, to watch a declawing. Blah! But in the end, I think he would consider it a good trade off. A life of leisure and luxury. A perpetually full food bowl, a large basket chocked full of toys, A sunny spot on the couch for napping, and loads of people to attend to his every need. Far better than the barn cat life, that was to be his destiny.
Oh, and he has just signed on a second person for his fan club. (Thats two besides Mike and I, that is.) The assistant at the clinic, loved him. I had a hard time getting her to hand him over. As she cuddled him, she told me all about how wonderful he is. Like his super soft fur, his brave little attitude, and his cuddly playful nature. As I pried him loose from her steely grip, (tiny exaggeration) I thought, “Hey lady, you’re preaching to the choir.”
Tags: budda