#78 -- OTIS'S TOENAILS

It’s possible you’ve met my daughter’s dog Otis before, by reading blog #75 PUPPY, where you learned that in April last, Houston, the human half of this Pug’s soul, succumbed to bacteria and died.

OTIS ON GUARD

Isn’t it amazing that a 6’4” human of many pounds and several years can be brought down by a teeny tiny single-celled organism found in a variety of shapes; that communicates with like organisms through the release of chemical molecules then acting together as a well-coordinated platoon, responds to changes in their environment to protect themselves.

 Like, what if they sniffed the presence of antibiotics? Oh boy. They call for change quick as an offensive Center shifts football players at the line of scrimmage. I mean, these little microscopic critters are as swift to strike as a pug is when an unfamiliar human attempts to shift its course. Which is what happened with Otis the Pug this past Saturday at PetZen Animal Wellness Center.

 Dr. Dorothy had been warned, “Otis doesn’t appreciate the touch of strangers. Otis tends to nip. Otis . . .”

By the time all the disclaimers and apologies had been made by the family of Otis, Dr. Dorothy and Taylor the Tech were on the floor talking to the dog, and discouraging the nipping. Within minutes Otis was ushered from the waiting room, through a small swinging door, through an examination room, through that room’s back door, and out of the sight of my daughter and me.

 The problem here was the growth of Otis’s toenails. Neglect of his toenails over the many months of attention being paid to human suffering had caused pug suffering. Those nails had missed the many miles of sidewalk treks that kept them well worn. Those nails had hardly been thought of between April and September while profound changes of place and pace and purpose and profound grief kept humans from noticing the pads of a pug’s feet. Until finally they did. Until finally they called the vet and asked what can be done. Until finally last Saturday noon nippy Otis walked to the back rooms with the doctor and the tech for an evaluation.

 My daughter and I sat waiting. Our discussion hadn’t gotten much past the danger of putting a pug under anesthesia because humans have so drastically and deliberately pushed in pug noses and skulls for aesthetic reasons (aren’t we humans amazing?). We’ve caused serious health problems for the dogs of China who originally had much longer snouts (But my, aren’t they cute now?). For about ten minutes our conversation looped around the danger, and the cost, of having Otis knocked out because his toenails desperately required repair, when the Tech, Vet, and Otis popped back into the waiting room, with one of the three wildly wagging a tightly curled tail.

 Just look at those four feet! No clicking of severely curled toenails against the tiled floor. Shortened they were. As the three returnees played together on the floor, as my daughter and I reigned in our astonishment, the story was shared.

 “It just takes three on the floor. It takes a Consumer, a Feeder, and a Clipper.” Taylor the Tech was the Feeder with treats in hand seated at Otis the Consumer’s nose. Dr. Dorothy the Clipper scooted on her knees round the Consumer’s feet.

“Treat!” said Feeder.

“Clip,” came the clipper sound.  

“Treat, Otis, you good boy!”

“Clip.”

“Treat!”

(Feed/Consume/Clip/Repeat)

Surely you get the picture. Four feet, eighteen nails in all if dewclaws remain, and for Otis they do. Within ten minutes the dreaded job was done.

 Surely, I don’t have to be the one to draw the lesson about praise and the carrot versus withering words and a whip.

AH, YES, A COMFORTABLE PAWS

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