Sounds reverberate off themselves here in the low country. With little to bounce off of in the landscape, the booms of thunder can be heard from miles away. The windows rattle as the cracking thunder claps move closer…under the beds head the scaredy cats…into the cat trees go the brave ones. Soundly they sleep as the thunderstorm passes.
Oh, to be a brave one!
The storm is upon us when the phone rings and a woman I helped a couple of years back is on the other end. She doesn’t give me her name, she simply asks for the name of the vet clinic her cats went to for vaccines and spay/neuter. The woman saved them from off the streets and contacted my organization for help to have them vetted. A woman of compassion…now she’s looking for records because she wants to have them declawed. She wants to bring them inside.
“No, please,” I beg when she tells me why she needs the records. “Please don’t declaw them. I must tell you truthfully that declawing cuts off the bone down to the first joint. It’s like taking your fingers down to the first knuckle. They can have behavioral problems sometimes because they no longer have claws.”
“I know,” she replies somewhat timidly, “I want to bring them inside but they are tearing up the furniture.”
“There are caps that can be applied to their nails. And you can train cats just as you do dogs or children. It just takes a bit of time and a willingness to do so.”
She knows, yes, yet she insists that declawing is the only option; and this vet will do it more cheaply than others.
The wind is knocked out of me while the storm winds outside roar. I pray that she will reconsider…my heart hurts. I feel as though I had a small part in this horrific act for having helped her in the first place.
The outside storm subsides and then passes.
Oh, God…how can we mutilate your creatures and feel okay about it?
A righteous man has regard for the life of his animal, but even the compassion of the wicked is cruel.