Balancing Act

All of the cats my family had while I was growing up were declawed. It was a commonly accepted way to protect both skin and furniture from those sharp little talons. And when I adopted my cat, Jazz, a few months ago, I had every intention of declawing her as well.

Every time she dug her claws into my scalp in the middle of the night, I would grimly mutter, "You just wait," and solemnly promise myself that I would call the vet the next morning.

First, though, I went online to research how I would need to prepare my home to make her more comfortable after the declawing, but no matter what I typed into the search engine, the articles that came up were always diatribes against declawing, describing it as a horribly barbaric practice.

I made the mistake of reading the articles-most of which were written by veterinarians, so I couldn’t even dismiss them as the crazy rantings of "Save The Everything" groups-and after my stomach turned over a few times, I thought, "Well, great. Since declawing is apparently out, now what? Do I spend the rest of my cat-rearing days with scratches all over my body and my fuzzy slippers ripped to shreds?"

During my online search, though, I noticed one product that kept popping up offered an alternative to declawing. Essentially, you have to give your cat a manicure and acrylic nails. Sadly, as of the moment I pressed the "send" button to place my order, my cat had a more extensive beauty routine than I did.

See if this doesn’t sound like a typical session with a manicurist: The nails are trimmed and then, using adhesive in a tube, nail covers are applied-and they come in colors. I chose blue to match my kitchen.

A few days after I ordered it, the kit was shipped to my house. As I was opening it and examining the contents, the enormity of what lay ahead hit me: I had to get the cat to sit still long enough for me to trim her claws-a new experience for both of us, and one in which I hoped wouldn’t result in blood being spilled (hers or mine). Then I had to coax her into continued compliance while I glued on the nail covers. Oh yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

Unlike with dogs, it’s easy to distinguish the line where cats’ claws end and the quick begins. So as I began her manicure, I knew I wasn’t hurting her. Naturally, that didn’t stop her from doing a mighty fine impression of a rabid dog. Apparently female cats don’t look upon manicures as stress relievers the way female humans do. After about 20 minutes, many scratches, and much mewing from both of us, I was done with the trimming. Drawing haggard breaths, I just couldn’t face the idea of trying to apply her nail coverings right then.

I set Jazz free and promised myself I would get the coverings on the next day. It was a lovely intention that just didn’t happen the following day-or the next, or the next…you get the idea. It was a good month before I got up the nerve to try it, and by then, of course, I had to trim her nails again. And at the end of that traumatic experience, I couldn’t bring myself to apply the nail covers.

It had become a vicious circle.

As this process has continued, my determination has begun to waver a bit. It’s not that I’m a coward. Well, it’s not entirely that I’m a coward. In the interim, I’ve discovered that Jazz may very well be the least graceful cat in the world. She routinely falls off things. So far, she’s fallen off the piano, the coffee table, the back of the sofa, and she falls off my bed on a nightly basis. She hit a new low last week when she was simply walking along the kitchen counter and somehow managed to fall off. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Which makes me wonder: If this is the level of grace and balance she has now, what would she be like with the nail covers on? No traction + clumsy cat = seriously impaired (though hilarious) animal. Maybe I’ll do us both a favor and just stick with the half-manicure-not the full spa treatment. TPW