When Floki was a kitten we were able to clip his nails, barely. Since about three or four months ago, nail clipping has become an impossibility. Whenever we try, he becomes, for lack of a better word, the squirmiest cat on Earth. He twists and turns and kicks and screams and hisses until he breaks free. If none of those works, the extra long, sharp claws in flesh (mostly my flesh) does the trick. People tell us, “Get a towel and wrap him like a burrito.” It’s a wonderful theory but it does not work, at least not for Floki.

We tried many times over the last few months to clip his nails but we also didn’t try many times because I worried Floki would start to fear me. My job was to catch him and hold him while Rose’s job was to do the clipping. Since no clipping occurred, I was the only bad guy.

I decided to call our nearby vet to see what they charged. I figured getting him in a cat carrier would be much easier and it would also make them the bad guy, not me. They told me it would cost $12. I thought that was a bargain so I made an appointment for yesterday morning.

I was wrong about it being easier to get Floki into the carrier. It was a nightmare. As soon as Rose opened the door to the carrier, Frankie walked inside. I had to dump Frankie out first and then try to catch an already nervous Floki. That was made easier since we closed the patio door giving him no access to the house. I picked him up and tried to put him in the carrier but he spread out his arms and legs in his best Rocky the Squirrel imitation and I couldn’t get him inside.

I thought I would take the top off a put him in that way so I tried that. Rose picked him up and put him inside while I put the top down but I couldn’t hold him in long enough to secure the door.

I put the carrier back together but Frankie walked inside it again and I had to dump him out again.

I caught Floki and he grabbed onto my shoulder with his claws. I couldn’t pull him off for fear of losing a chunk of skin on my shoulder so I backed up against the cat tree and gave him somewhere to go.

I considered giving up and calling the vet but after one or two more tries we got him in the carrier. Then the crying started.

He cried all the way to the vet.

Once we were there and he saw other cats and the biggest Husky dog on the planet he became quiet.

We were never put in a room. Instead, someone came out and brought Floki to the back room. I told her she needed to put on a suit of armor and she just said, “We’re used to it.”

When she returned Floki I asked, “How did it go?”

She said he was fine.

What!? Are you freaking kidding me? Are we talking about the same cat? I didn’t say that but I thought it.

Later that evening we trimmed the nails of our other three cats with hardly an issue, even from Big Baby Chris. Frankie went UTB for a while but gave us little trouble when we did catch him.