It’s very rare that my arms are pristine. Between my intermittent pastime of rock climbing and the overzealous-Labrador-Retriever-of-the-week, I almost always have a scratch or two somewhere.
The worst my arms have ever been, though, was the week we had the kittens.
Oh sure, everybody thinks kittens are sweet, cute, and cuddly, but in reality, they are downright vicious. After a week taking care of four kittens, my arms looked like I’d been lashed by a bull whip with pocket knives tied to the end. Them little buggers is downright slippery!
Fortunately, due to that whole cute-and-cuddly-looking thing they have going on, they were all adopted rather quickly. My arms were relieved. (Okay, okay, I miss the little guys.)
It wasn’t long, though, until we started getting calls from the new owners asking how old they had to be before they could get declawed. *sigh*
For those that don’t know, declawing a cat is akin to having your own fingertips whacked off at the first knuckle. It also happens to be illegal (or nearly so) in 25 countries. Most people don’t know this when they ask about declawing. Some do, and want to do it anyway.
Although I certainly understand the pain of kitten claws, I also know that kittens grow out of that phase. If trained early on, cats can grow to be very well behaved with their claws. And there are alternatives to declawing, like the right type of scratching post or little plastic nail caps. It amazes me how many people insist they’ve tried “everything,” and, when pressed, reveal that “everything” means that they purchased a single scratching post and have yet to attempt any real training.
I deleted the first draft of this post after I found myself blathering on and on about why you should not declaw your cat–lifelong pain! behavioral issues! etc. Rather than reinvent the wheel, I suggest that those who are interested in learning more read: Declawing: A Rational Look by Dr. Jean Hofve, DVM.
My own cat, Mandu, has a habit of putting her paw on my cheek and pulling my face towards her so she can lick my nose. She never uses her claws. But I like knowing they’re there, because when she kisses my nose it is a gesture of genuine tenderness, made all the more so by the fact that she chooses to gingerly tap my cheek without using her claws.
