Today, Pixie had her toenails trimmed at the vet's. The reason she had it done at the vet's is that we have escalated at home from a sweet, placid dog who snoozes while her nails are being clipped to a gnawing maniac dog who acts as though you've just suggested that as long you have her paw in hand, you're going to chop it off with an axe.
She continued to harbor this belief at the veterinarian's office. It was a traumatic experience for both the dog and the vet tech, who, though used to working with large, unruly animals, still came away with scratches. Pixie herself got a nosebleed afterwards. I've never in my life met a dog who had a nosebleed at all, much less after grooming.
I do not understand this. I do understand that I have somehow compounded the problem in the eight months that I've had her. Ever since my family's first dog, Cid, I have a psychological resistance to dog toenail trimming. It's always been a big event, involving every family member capable of holding down a limb. The dog is never happy, the trimmers never sharp or fast enough, and someone always ends up bleeding. There's got to be a better way.
Even my beloved, well-trained Shetland Sheepdog, Duffy, who would fall asleep and snore through meticulous, full-body blow-drying, was not a treat to trim. And I disagree with Cesar Milan's assessment about being the pack leader. Duffy hung on my every word, obeying all of my commands at a distance or by hand signal only. He worshiped me. But he begged to differ, with all due respect, as they say, about the nail trimming. Am I doing it wrong?
Should I buy one of
these? (Be sure to stay for the video. Why do all the spokespeople sound like they were recruited from the Lubbock WalMart?)
Should I hire a dog trainer?
Cesar Milan says to tire the dog completely out until she can barely move, then utilize an assistant and a towel and say "tsch!" a lot. The
perky English woman suggests I should distract Pixie from the unpleasantness with a treat in her face whenever I approach her with the trimmers, but I only have two hands. I can't hold the dog, hold the paw, hold the trimmers AND hold the treat. So it goes like this: Paw. Good. Treat. Good dog. Trimmers up, treat away...paw away. Paw. Good. Treat. Good. Trimmers. Oh no, paw away. Paw back. Treat. Good. Paw. Good. Whoops! Repeat until you collapse or give up.
Another site I found suggested that to reassure a dog who has had a traumatic clipping experience, I should start slowly and progress over a period of weeks, maybe even months, feeding my dog a stream of her very favorite treats while initially touching her paw, then holding it, then touching one toenail with the clippers but not using them, then squeezing but not cutting, and on and on. Is this really what it takes? Isn't there some dog toenail-whisperer who can walk up to a dog, and with the force of his or her Robert Redford-like will, subdue a pooch into a state of calm submission and wordlessly do the deed?
I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe that I, a mature, college-educated person, can't figure out how to trick a dog into letting me groom her in peace. She takes bathing in stride. I could probably brush her teeth if I wanted to. But until I figure this toenail thing out, she will remain the queen.
(Please feel free to send your stories of toenail clipping success my way. No horror stories about dog nosebleeds, please.)
(Forgot to caption this earlier: Three weeks ago, I slipped on an icy cattle guard while running Pixie, and fell through it. I bonked my shin pretty hard, and the photo above is what my hand still looked like a week and a half later- bruised, discolored and puffy.)
Below: After a recent visit to Michael Chiarello's new Yountville NapaStyle shop, I was inspired to come home and make and shoot a sundried tomato, cheese and arugula panini sandwich.
And that's it for now. 
