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A loving home for every cat and a loved cat for every home. |
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Cat Soul Secrets |
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Animal Stories |
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by
Callie watched in horror as the pumpkin-orange fingernail it had taken her six-months to grow fell to the floor, still attached to the tip of her finger. Her stomach lurched into her throat but she didn't dare vomit as she was lying face up on the operating table, her wrists and ankles bound to the four corners by ropes. The foot-long rusty saw moved to her next finger and began to cut through bone, the noise akin to La Cienega Boulevard's construction workers moving into her brain and hammering on her skullbones. Another finger-tipped orange nail fell and though she closed her eyes to avoid the painful sight, she could see the waterfall of blood that followed her dismembered digit to the ground. “Stop it,” she cried. “Please, stop it.” “You're awake,” the white-coated voice said. “You're supposed to be asleep. Sorry.” Struggling to free herself, she pulled on the ropes but pulling only made them tighter. One intact finger remained on her left hand, and the saw moved to it, positioning itself at the first joint. “Stop! Why are you doing this? I need my fingers.” The laughter surprised her, and she quickly turned her head to look at white-coat's evil face, but he had none. His invisible mouth roared, “What do you need fingers for?” “What? What kind of question is that? I need fingers for everything - combing my hair, brushing my teeth, writing in my journal, working on my computer, holding my boyfriend's hand, and a million other things.” More laughter. “I don't agree. You can do all those things without the tips of your fingers.” Callie struggled and strained and pulled and pushed and tried kicking and biting and screaming, but she couldn't escape and she almost blacked out as she watched her last finger fall to the floor, its bright-red streaked nail clicking on the tile. “Can I go home now, please?” “We're not done.” She looked at her mutilated hands; her beautiful fingernails, so carefully grown and manicured, GONE. Gone forever and she cried out, “You've taken them all! There's nothing else you can do.” White-coat didn't answer her. The saw moved to the other end of the table and began removing toes, toes with pumpkin-orange nails meticulously groomed. “No! Don't take my toes, the Halloween dance is tonight!” Deep, terrifying cackles like crows on a rampage assaulted her ears. “You can still dance, my dear. Just a little more of a challenge.” White-coat's thunderous roars shook her stomach loose and it flew out of her mouth. “Oomph!” Now he was stomping on her belly. Her eyes jerked open and two green ovals surrounded by long white whiskers stared at her. “Kitty!” Quickly glancing at her beautiful, still-present pumpkin-orange fingernails and toes, she ran to the phone. “Hello, Dr. Summers, it's Callie. I want to cancel KittyKat's declaw surgery. I'm going to buy him a nice scratching post instead.” “Good for you,” the doctor said. He reached into the pocket of his white coat and removed a handful of pumpkin-orange fingernails and tossed them in the trash.
Please do not declaw your cat
He inserted the syringe between the young female's legs and deposited his golden egg. She stirred. "Not yet, honey," he whispered, carrying her gently to the bed. The door to the garage shook as his wife pounded on it. "Come on, Edward, dinner's getting cold." "All right," he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice; he had never understood why he had to eat when he wasn't hungry. He picked up Taco, his shoebox-size red-andblack long-haired Chihuahua, and the arthritis-ridden dog whimpered. "Sorry, Taco. When you are reborn from this female, your pain will be gone, you will be able to see again, and I will be able to talk to you - and you to me. The strand of DNA from my brain cells that I put into your clone will enable us to understand each other. Can you imagine? I love you, Taco." Going to the kitchen, he ate his food in silence, Taco in his lap, as his wife bombarded him with long strings of unintelligible words. (What was she knitting now? The last thing she knitted was a birdcage cover. They didn't have a bird.) "Edward! Are you listening to me? If you don't stay out of the garage, I'm going to kill you. You've spent every minute of the last two months in there. Do you hear me? I'm going to kill you." Her words burned into his brain cells. She must have threatened him with those words a thousand times. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. Taco got to see the puppy born before he went to doggie heaven. After a nice memorial service, Edward, his face brimming with joy, took his new red-and-black puppy into the house. "Lila! Come here! I've something wonderful to show you!" He ran through the house, little miniature Taco grasped firmly in his hands like he was the last hope for the future. His wife, sitting on the sofa, knitting in her hands, looked up as he blew into the room. He held out his precious bundle for her to worship. "What's that?" “This is Taco! Isn't he beautiful! And he's young, and he's healthy, and he can talk!" His wife interrupted him. "You're crazy. That puppy has to go. I'm not going to listen to you moon over another dog." "You don't understand. This is NOT a different dog, it is Taco, only young and healthy. And I love him more than anything." Lila's face turned red with anger. "That's it, I'm going to kill you!" He screamed, "Stop saying that!" His scream scared the tiny puppy who ran to Lila and jumped into her lap. Gently stroking the puppy's silky fur, her fingers roved to the red taco-shaped patch of fur on his chest. She cooed, "You're a cutie, aren't you?" The puppy kissed her face and wagged his tail happily. Edward moved toward his unfaithful puppy and reached out to take him but stopped when little Taco bared his teeth and growled at him, "I'm going to kill you." Looking from Lila to Taco, he shuddered. All his work, all his work for nothing. The puppy crawled inside the red ferret-sweater Edward's wife had just finished knitting. (They didn't have a ferret.)
THE END
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CLAWLESS |
