We hate cutting Coco’s nails. So much that we pay the vet to do it, and due to her squirmy don’t-cut-my-nails-or-I’ll-pretend-I’m-going-to-bite-you persona, she usually does not get the good doggy discount.
This morning, we got ambitious.
My husband started to cut her nails, and I stuffed treats down her throat in a repetitive fashion so that she forgot what we were doing.
And then we saw it.
Apparently he’d cut below the quick (that line is impossible to see, mind you), and no matter how hard we tried, we could not get the blood to stop.
He was calm (of course), and I was holding back my panic as best I could, although the amount of blood that comes out of that toe nail is horrific.
We tried that special powder that came with the clippers. We took her outside to limit the amount of blood that was in our family room. We googled and tried a remedy of dabbing in flour, flour that I was wearing 5 minutes later.
She did not seem to be in pain, which was good, although I couldn’t help but wonder how when the next time when she gets her nails cut (ahem, during her yearly vet visit next week), she’d be traumatized and may actually bite the vet, rather than fake-bite.
A flour-y deck, robe, and Coco foot later, it finally stopped, and I got 5 minutes to get ready for my 9:30 a.m. call.
Now she is barking at the mailman. All is normal again.