In the past I’ve written about how awesome it is to find white hairs on my girlfriend’s head and plucking them. I love it, I love it, I love it, I love it, I love it.
While Jessica is visiting I try to carve three minutes each day to search her extremely thick and luxurious hair for white follicles. But now I have a new obsession.
Yanking off rear dewclaws from chihuahuas.
If you’re not familiar with the awesomeness that is a dewclaw, it’s that weird nail that starts a third of the way up a dogs leg on the side. I’m too lazy to look it up, but I’m pretty sure it never touches the ground. I think dogs can use it to grasp stuff. I’m not sure what dogs grasp, as my dog had a real issue with Elementary Physics. (Get it? A fuckin’ pun! I’m tired.)
Anyway, the other chihuahua that is staying with us, Dirk, has rear dewclaws. This is rare. Dewclaws are almost always on the front legs, not the rear. Jessica’s dog has ’em on both.
The other thing about dewclaws, especially those on hind legs, is that they grow a lot faster than the other nails. About twice as fast as I understand it. So when I was examining Dirk’s nails I noticed his one rear dewclaw were basically turning in on itself like those freaks from India in the Guinness Book of World Records. I mentioned this to Jessica and asked if I could clip it.
She never clips his nails because he screams bloody murder. She takes him into a pet store once a month and they do it. I looked at his other rear dewclaw and noticed it was missing. We later found it on the couch. He had jumped up earlier and somehow tore it right off, all the way down to the quick. I was staring at a perfect dewclaw ripped straight off his leg.
I grabbed the nail clippers to get the other one. He began acting like a dick trying to squirm out of getting the nail cut. It was near impossible to get under there as it had curled into an almost perfect circle. I put down the clippers and dug my own nail under his nail, to try to find the opening where I could jam the clippers under.
And then it snapped. Clear off, into my hands.
The dewclaw just magically left his body and landed in my palm. It was beautiful. I had two amazing dewclaws that just moments before was hanging off a dog.
I rolled them around in my hand. I scratched my face with them at the same time. I tried to figure out which one I liked better. I even attempted to see if I could pick my teeth with them. I could.
I tossed them after a few minutes. I’m no psycho. But I’m excited in about four weeks to rip off the new ones – maybe I’ll make a dewclaw bracelet and give it away to one of you. Admit it – you’d wear it to a cocktail party. It’s at least more fun that your grandmother’s pearls.
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