Every year or two, I decide to try and groom Huey's feet myself. A year is usually about how long it takes for me to forget how badly I lost the fight the last time I tried. So, today was the day. Onto the grooming table...new battery in the clippers...got all 4 furry feet clipped...mostly. Now, the terrible state of his nails is evident.
Today is the groomers day off. I can do this (I told myself). The dremel is plugged in. Huey gets a treat. 1st toenail...not so terribly bad. Huey is twitchy but hanging In there. Not much off, just shorten a bit. 2nd toenail...twitchier, but 2nd toe done. 3rd toe...he has this figured out now, and it ain't happening again. Alter ego Tasmanian devil/Cujo-yorkie has now emerged. He is spinning, he is snarling, he has somehow curled all toes into his body where none can be singled out. Once again, I have lost the battle.
2 nails only-and only one kinda short enough. He now looks like a 3 toed sloth. He just needs a tree branch to hang from. He won the war, but I will go out on a winning battle. I will not quit until I am ahead.
I decided to de-crunch the mustache. I won that one and still have all my fingers, no bleeding...and now the sweet angel has come back out and is curled up lovingly against my hip.
Brat.