Since my blog is titled "Struggles", Iwill describe my struggle du jour...clipping my cats claws. Vash is my baby, my companion, and today, my nemisis. His claws have grown so long and sharp, snuggling has become painful, playfull antics out of the question, and leaves the carpet and bed comfortor covered in snags.

I admire Vashes ability to instintively know when "toe clipping" time has arrived. He only barely tolerates me picking him up, but when its toe clipping time, he is always out of reach.

So it's time for me to become smarter than him (fat chance). My past tactics that have worked include:

1. faking a nap to lure him close to cuddle so I can snatch him up and clip away.

2. grabbing him when he visits me while I'm using the tolliet.

3. luring him close with treats.

But he learns quickly....

#1 worked for a while, but now he has figured out, that if I lay on my beg while it's still daylight, somethings up, go hide.

#2 worked, but to clip his claws with my pants down and thighs exposed, wasn't pleasant.

#3 never worked very well, he learned to take the treat and run.

I've even tried reason...lecturing him on the vertues of well groomed claws, telling him he is making a moutain out of a mole hill, that his toes will feel so much better. He listens, then in his cat way, immediately and unpassionately, dismisses me.

I love cats, their indifference to everything but their pleasure is inspiring. Humans can learn so much about living well if they just look to cats for wisdom. They do nothing unless it makes them feel good. If it doesn't feel good...take a nap.

They are masters at entertaining themselves, any every day object left within reach becomes prey. At night Vash zooms back and forth through the hall upstairs, as if chasing a herd of gazelle. He brings his toys to bed so I can throw them across the room for him to chase and bring back to me for more. He perches on the stairs to swipe at my head as I walk by.

He takes care of me. He tells me when he thinks its time for me to turn off the TV and go to bed by coming downstairs and staring at me from his perch on the couch. He gives me ticklely, gentle kisses on my eylids (not ruff cat licks reserved only for bathing).

Most of all, he listens to me without judgement. Not that he doesn't vocalize his opinion, after all, he's a Siamese.

I have to come up with a new strategy to the toe clipping situation, I have to be sneeky, I have to use drugs... cloud his senses in euphoria; get Vash stoned on catnip!

The bait is set. Catnip embedded in his toy, sprinkled on his scratching post, an aluring trap.

Here he comes, cautiously sniffing. I ignor him. The sratching and rolling begin. He starts rubbing his face in the drug impregnated toy. I reach for him, he bolts. The effects haven't taken hold, I ignor him again. He goes back to rolling with his toy giving him another dose. My cooing at him relaxes him, I reach down to stoke his head, progress, he stretches up to meet my tickling fingers. I go for the grab....got him! Let the manicure begin!

Vash doesn't like to be held so he struggles, and is immediately rendered powerless by my secret weapon, the pinching of the scruff of his neck. Now gone limp, I can position him on my lap, and in short bursts, clip each needle sharp nail. Between clips, I must pinch his neck to keep him from struggling free. If I only can figure out how to pinch his neck while holding his foot and clipping at the same time, but somehow the job gets done.

I gloat, I fooled you this time Vashy! Now doesn't that feel better? He stares at me with distain, flips his tail and goes upstairs.... for a nap.