Picking up wiggly cats

I got an email asking for a visit to trim the claws of a BIG cat.  Creamy soft fur.  Athletic. In the prime of his life. Friendly.

Put him on the counter. Trimmed a claw.  He rabbit-kicked me, leapt off the counter, and off he went, ha ha. The joke was on me.

Followed him to the hallway.  Wrapped him in my towel, held him on my lap, and snip, snip, claws trimmed. He didn’t mind after all.  Settled into it like a champ.

One of his owners asked, “How did you do that?!”

Just another day in the life . . . .:)