Wet Cleanup on Aisle 5

Kittens are Vicious

I may look cute, but I am a Kitten of Mass Destruction.

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 cats is downright slippery!

Fortunately, due to that whole cute and cuddly looking thing that they have going on, they were all adopted rather quickly. My arms were relieved. (Okay, okay, I miss the little buggers.)

It wasn’t long, though, until we started getting the calls from the new owners asking how old they had to be before they could get declawed. *sigh*

Although I certainly understand (a little) of where these owners are coming from, having just lived through the abuse of four kittens at once, 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 training 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 training.)

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.

I deleted the first draft of this post after I found myself blathering on and on about why you should not declaw your cat. Rather than reinvent the wheel, however, I suggest that those who are interested, or those who are new to the issue, 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.