Email from my dad of his experience clipping his cat Kirby. oooo!
Linda informed me this morning that Kirby is shedding large clumps of fuzz, so he needed a haircut. I had been delaying longer than usual as I needed to buy a new blade, and the process of the cutting involves my physical movement than I really like to do. I do it in my own time, which is usually after it should have been done. Bending over the bath tub trying to confine a cat that generally would rather do something other than having it's hair cut off, isn't high on my list of chosen things to do. Most times it isn't a terrible struggle. I am bigger than the cats and over a period of time, they have learned who they cannot directly confront. (Me). That fact, however, does not stop indirect displays of displeasure. They just do those things, when I am not looking. So I win the battle of the haircuts on a regular basis. Most times there isn't much struggle, but today, Kirby apparently decided that he didn't want his hair cut. He fought far more than he usually does.
Past practice has proved the bathtub as the best place, because there isn't anything for claws, (he only has back claws) to dig into, except me. Today I have multiple wounds inflicted by him. He only has one where I nicked him, his fault, not mine, if he had been still, the nick wouldn't have happened. The nick didn't happen until about 3/4 of the battle was over, so it wasn't the cause. He simply was not going to cooperate. There was yelling, mostly from him, a couple from me. (As if that was going to help). There was an enormous amount of wrestling. That is not normal. If I held him by the nap of the neck, which usually freezes him, he would pick his feet up off the ground, which meant that as I pressed the clipper against him, his body spun away from me. If I didn't hold him by the nap of the neck, I had to clip in short bursts between his efforts to get out of the tub. If I turned him one way, he turned the other. If I wanted him to stand, he was determined to lay down. Mostly I have to keep him trapped in the tub by moving back and forth the three or four feet, where he can escape. We stopped at one point, to let the clippers cool, as they get hot, the longer it takes. It was taking a long time. I was wise enough to know that if I let him out of the tub, the door better be closed, because finding him, was not going to be easy if I let him go. There was more yelling as we waited for the clipper to cool. (From him, by then I was doing my best to catch my breath). He did what he could to hide behind the toilet, depositing hair back there. Which meanth a complete cleaning of the bathroom was going to be needed. (Probably my least favorite job of all). In our house it is my bathroom, hence I clean it, or it doesn't get cleaned. I can handle a lot of dirt, but I do have my limits. So I take great pains to limit, where I deposit dirt, that will need to be cleaned up. Kirby was depositing hair everywhere, particularly it would seem, in places I took care not to deposit anything that would need to be cleaned.
Eventually I won, and he was clipped. There was hair everywhere, which again is not the usual course. There is always some that escapes the tub, but this time I had to change what I was wearing, for the amount of hair that was clinging to me, the floor, the sinks, the toilet, which is about 10 ft from the tub. That would be hair that floated to the front of the toilet, before the recess during which he left hair behind the toilet. I was sweating profusely, and wondering exactly why, we ever started doing this, and why, he was so determined, it wasn't happening today. I will give him this, he never bit, or offered to bite, but boy can he wrestle, and will liberally use the back claws if his claws make contact.
When I let him out, he went and found Linda and there was a lot of loud meowing at her. I guess he was telling on me. Now he is hiding somewhere to do his after haircut grooming. Amazing how strong a fifteen pound cat can be.
Don't tell me animals don't have a will, I don't think all of this fighting was instinct.