Smidge, my rescue Chihuahua, has these long black nails attached to her teeny-weeny wittle pawsie-wasies, right underneath the hilariously positioned spots that looks like knuckle tattoos for a gang. I usually keep her nails pretty long, because I am apparently a Dog Mom failure *reject buzzer sound* and I can't clip her nails.
Some backstory, I found Smidge at a Humane Society, where she was super lovey but also was filled with the maximum amount of terror. When another dog in the pen came over to me and I reached for her, Smidge chased her off, even baring her teeth.
I turned a blind eye to this reaction. I assumed the Chihuahua with the cloudy eyeball and the jacked up tail was probably just scared, confused or both.
Some of this overly sassy behavior emerges on walks and while meeting new people. She doesn't like to be petted by strangers, so a delightfully quick nip will be administered to their hand, complete with slobber, and just enough thwart anyone who thinks she not the boss. I did time in Hall County Animal Control, she growls at the benign dog-lover who literally just gave her a treat. While she apparently has something against making new friends, she takes no issue with getting her nails cut by strangers she may never see again.
Last time we had a trim, I paid almost 20 dollars for a pleasant young woman to tackle the nail trim at the local big box pet store. I closed my eyes and gave the woman my dog and the world's tiniest muzzle. In five minutes, the smiling woman in scrubs emerged with the puddle version of my Chihuahua in her arms. We didn't even need the muzzle, she told me. She did great!
So as the pandemic aligned with Smidge's pawdicure schedule, her duclaw also went from dog toe nail to what appeared to be a macaroni noodle stuck inside the stovetop burner. I bought some clippers for myself - with a guard! - and decided to try it out. No muzzle, on the couch, while watching TV. Almost like the nice lady at the pet store. Or vaguely reminiscent of the nice lady at the pet store. Nothing could go wrong!
Curly-cue duclaw nail, check. Smidge very slowly turned her head to look at me, her eyes squinting as if instructing me to proceed. Ok, maybe this is easier than I thought.
Next nail, would you call it an index if she doesn't have fingers? Position the clippers, follow the guard, clip.
And that's when I felt her teeth sink into my hand, wailing.
Before you think Smidgey is a bad dog, it wasn't that bad. It hurt, but she didn't draw blood or break the skin, even. And hey, if you're not willing to get bit by your own dog, what are you willing to do for love? No, Smidgey is not a bad dog. My little demon baby is just upset that I cut her toenail too short. Though by the way she growled at me, you'd think she was screaming, ET TU BRUTUS!? as she collapses into utter darkness, wine spilling everywhere, the Fates clinging to their scissors.
Smidge was mad at me for about two days. The rest of the dreaded nail day she quivered and growled at me when I tried to feed her, put her leash on, or pet her. She curled so much lip she could have easily won a Billy Idol lookalike contest. Despite the attitude, she also sat in my lap the entire evening like nothing was wrong. I actually think she's still kind of mad, but she's trying really hard to like, move past it or something.
And yet, she let me trim the other duclaw after that, and then we stopped.
It's been five days now, and the clippers now live on the kitchen counter until I have the nerve to try again. Smidge maintains two regular nails, one short nail, and seven long nails. She has also has returned to sleeping in her bean bag, where she can see me, instead of under the bed.
Meanwhile, Cairo has been extra affectionate, reading the room and taking any open opportunities to cut in. This includes meowing me awake at 2 a.m., complete with purring and kneading. Unfortunately I noticed as he flexes his little cat paws on my blankets that it's time to trim his nails, too.
