He started out as a gift to the children. Just barely two months old when he arrived, Little Buddy was a big hit with the family. We had never had a cat before, let alone a Ginger Cat.
Raising Little Buddy was to be a family task. That nasty business of cleaning the litter box originally was to be a shared task for the children.
“We’ll take turns, Dad, we’ll feed him and bathe him and clean up after him. We promise.”
Well, I eventually gave in and Little Buddy came to live with us. It didn’t take long for Little Buddy to learn the routine. He even liked his weekly bath. He was a very curious cat too. With his long tail extended, Little Buddy walked on the back of the chairs and sofa and the countertops in the kitchen and the window sills too.
After being reminded several times, Little Buddy learned that we didn’t want him on the kitchen counters or on the table. He kept his backyard romps to a minimum and rarely stayed out more than about five to ten minutes. Then he would be back to the door asking to come inside.
There was just one thing that Little Buddy could not stop doing. Scratching. He extended his forepaws and dug them into the furniture. Deep gouges appeared on the legs of the sofa and chairs. He dug his claws into the fabric and shredded everything. He even scratched the legs of our very expensive and antique dining room table and chairs. Threads were appearing everywhere. And even though we warned him and tried to convince him otherwise, he refused to obey.
Well, as my wife said, “cats will be cats.”
So, a trip to the vet was planned. You see, a vet can surgically remove these sharp appendages. They can declaw a cat, making them harmless to you and to your furniture. Against his will, Little Buddy submitted to this procedure. Within a week he was back to his old self with one exception. There was no longer scratching. Oh, he still went through the motions, but he could not do any damage. Without claws, he was no longer a threat to us or our furniture.
At last, Little Buddy was a manageable pet. He could run, jump and play without being a problem in our home or to anyone that might try to pick him up.
However, one night during his romp in the backyard, Little Buddy ran into an unforeseen situation. We don’t know how many there were, but all we heard were dogs barking. I ran into the backyard and never even saw them. That’s when I found him. My Little Buddy. Lying lifeless in a pool of his own blood.
You see, in our misguided quest to make Little Buddy a more manageable member of our family, we had removed Little Buddy’s only means of self-defense. Without claws, Little Buddy was helpless. Little Buddy could only HOPE he wouldn’t be assaulted.
The moral to this story is simple: The right to bare arms saves your hide.
