Nail Trim

I do not understand why Marty thinks she needs to cut my nails.  I think if she just had me out for longer walks, everything would take care of itself.  SHE says that this is what responsible humans do and that if I don't cooperate, I will be like Mr. Tripoli and have to RIDE IN THE CAR and GO TO THE VET'S to have mine done.

Marty and Lyle tried to do my nails earlier this week, but I was a wiggle worm and wouldn't hold still, and Marty said it was more important that I not have a bad experience than that I get my nails trimmed (on rare occasions, they can be sensible).  So another day this week we practiced Lyle giving me treats while Marty touched my feet, squeezed my toes, and touched me with the nail trimmers.

Then last night when Marty picked them up, I knew what was coming.  I ran downstairs and tried to convince them they could have time with their computers instead, but they brought the trimmers down there!  I rolled off the step and wound up behind the couch, and THAT IS WHERE THEY CUT MY NAILS!

Lyle gave me treats almost as fast as I could swallow them, and Marty was very careful, but I was still SO MAD that I went upstairs without them for a long time.  I am not sure they noticed that they were in trouble.