Karma Meets Dogma

For the first time in over ten years I have bangs. I decided yesterday that the best way to get over the hacking lung disease was to have my hair cut. Hair-eopathic medicine will be all the rage soon, just you wait. Anyway, with bangs and a new cut, the day was looking up.

Until, that is, we noticed Katya frantically licking at her left front paw. Closer examination showed her dew claw (and where the HECK did THAT name come from? Because trust me, she doesn’t open Mt. Dew cans no matter how much I bribe her) torn and bleeding. Drat.

Much hand wringing and a call to the parents (Owners of the Murphy’s law dogs: if something can go wrong with your dog, it will have gone wrong first with my parents’ dogs.) later we decided that the claw needed to be cut off. Armed with nail scissors, kitchen scissors, and lots of towels, I began claw surgery. Mark bravely volunteered to hold Katya down.

This is where karma met dogma. Trying to lean over and peer at your dog’s bleeding paw while gently removing a nail is ever so hard when your damned new bangs keep falling in your eyes.

After about 5 minutes of my gentle probing and hesitant clipping, Katya had enough and jerked her paw out of my hand so hard that the torn claw hung on the webbing between my fingers and ripped clean off. She had a look that distinctly said “For the love of CATS woman, would you stop pussyfooting around and get it over with? HUMANS! I could have chewed the thing off by now if you’d left me the hell alone.”

A bit of bleeding and a very un-cool bandage later, she was right as rain. This morning the new hairstyle isn’t quite so glamorous. Apparently long layers and bangs require… brushing! I might just use the Katya approach and chew the hair knots out….