Sitting out on the back porch the other night (in 90 degree heat and 80% humidity, don't ask me why), Blair mentioned that, instead of taking Olivia to the vet, he was going to attempt to trim her claws himself.
I leaned over and took his hands and stared deep into his eyes. "I just want you to know how much I've enjoyed our life together," I said. "I love you and I'll miss you terribly when you're gone."
"I don't think it will be that bad," said Blair. "Where are you going?"
"I'm looking for our wills. But I'm listening. You were saying something about this not being a bad idea?"
"Seriously. They say if you do it when the cat is calm and relaxed, she even might enjoy it."
"Who is this 'they?'" I asked.
"The people on the internet. I've been reading about how to do this."
"Oh my God, you are so cute," I exclaimed. "I really am going to miss you when you're gone."
Chalk one up for Blair. Brushing aside my offer to help hold the beastie down, he waited until Olivia was calm and purring on his lap, then attempted the nail clip. He proudly informed me he got her front paws trimmed. I was impressed.
"Really? She just sat there and let you do that?"
A small look of discomfort crossed his face. "Well, she didn't like it..."
"But she stayed put? That's huge!"
"Um, well, 'stayed put' might be an exaggeration. I kind of had to hold her in place."
Basically, the story that emerged was that he sumo wrestled her to the ground and probably scarred the cat for life, emotionally, all so we could save nine bucks on a nail trim.
On the bright side, he is still alive. I think I'll loan him $9 and see if he can come up with a good use for it.