I would rather not be blunt. I find it rather dull. But the Guardians apparently prefer bluntness, at least when it comes to The Brothers’ and My claws. Today they pulled out the blasted claw clippers and went to work. I was not amused.
When it was all over, I was barely able to make a dent in the arm of the couch, even when I clawed it with great gusto. Brother Oliver wasn’t able to dig his claws into the Guardian’s back when she held him. How was he supposed to make sure he didn’t slip? Brother Henry was beside himself at his disarmament. After all, he’s the muscle of The Cult of Otis, and as such he is tasked with defending us all. To be honest though, the trimming did seem to improve his mobility as he no longer had to stop every couple steps to dislodge his enormous, sharp talons when they became stuck in the carpet.
There really is no excuse for the insult by the Guardians… although I am almost willing to forgive them because they gave us freeze-dried chicken treats immediately afterward. I took that as a sign that they must have seen the error of their ways. And yeah, that chicken was good! This kitty is definitely willing to forgive… but I will not forget…
So Sayeth Otis