A post should appear every Sunday

Sunday November 26th 2023

Even the bright white Isis sometimes has feet too muddy to ignore. Washing them at home is an unwelcome chore, which Human endeavours to avoid if she possibly can. Usually there are easy remedies, such as getting her to walk through a large puddle before she gets into the car; by the time we reach home, her paws have dried off on her car blanket, and are pink and mudless.

Another approach is encouraging her to trot through long, clean, wet grass before we make  our way to the car via an asphalt path.

And the third option is to take the bottles of tap water we always have in the boot, and swill her feet down before allowing her in the car.

Isis doesn’t really mind any of these solutions, and we usually avoid having to wash her feet at home.

It occurs to me that if her little feet were neatly trimmed, and the clumps of hair removed from between her pads, much less mud would accumulate in the first place. Yes, as the old adage goes, prevention is better than cure.

So, one day last week – Thursday, I think – I decide that today is the day.

I spread out an old sheet to cover the rug, collect the grooming kit and some small pieces of mature cheddar, and lever Isis into a standing position. I stroke a paw while feeding her some of the cheese. So far, so good.

Scissors in one hand, I pick up a front paw with the other.

“GRARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! WERRARARRRRRRRRRRR!” snarls the little ***, diving at my paw-holding hand.

She is no longer even faintly interested in the cheese.

I shout at her – I know she can’t hear me, but think that my displeasure is adequately communicated by my menacing face-to-face hisses and tense body language. I know, I know … I should have stopped there and then, given us both the space to calm down, and tried to work out another strategy.

But I don’t. I tell her, in no uncertain terms, that I am going to trim the hair from her pads whether she likes it or not.

Now she has stiffened her front paw into a ramrod so that it almost requires a freezer scraper to prise it from the floor.

But, unwisely, I try.

“GRARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR- AFFA -RAFFA  GRAAA!”, she screeches, attempting to bite my hand.

That’s it, Isis.

I fetch her muzzle. It’s the last resort.

Incredibly, muzzle not withstanding, she continues to attack my hands, and even manages to sink her teeth into the base of my left thumb. She is furious and the air is very blue, but I continue.

I do my best to tackle all four feet, but amidst the mayhem, I miss one front paw. The other front paw is not perfect, but it’s acceptable, and her back feet are very neat (being, of course, further from her teeth!)

I know why she has developed foot trim phobia: two weeks ago she had her nails cut at the vet’s. The veterinary nurse did a good job, but unfortunately, she caught the quick of one of the nails. Although it bled profusely for a while, and must have been very painful, Isis didn’t make a sound. She rarely squeaks, even if I accidentally step on a paw; unfortunately though, the incident must be deeply embedded in her psyche.

She’ll not forget it, and I’ve no idea how we’re going to manage the hairy pads syndrome. I’d leave her feet alone except that I’m sure it’s very uncomfortable walking on matted hair.

By now she is trembling, whether with rage or fear, or both, it is impossible to tell. Oh dear, oh dear, this is horrible.

As soon as I remove the muzzle, she is calm again, but her tail is low, and she can’t wait to retreat to her back room.

Later, while I am sitting at the table at the other end of the room from Isis, she lies on the daybed, barking intermittently. This is very unusual: in fact, she only does it when she is in acute pain. I recall only two occasions, both when, unknown to me, she had fractured the root of a nail.

I am worried that she has been injured while throwing herself around during the foot trimming. I get up, go over to her, and sit down beside her, intending to examine her to find out what’s wrong. But as soon as I sit down, she stops barking, stretches herself out and goes to sleep.

Oh Isis. What a forgiving dog.

And what a rat Human’s been today.

Isis came from Aeza cat and dog rescue in Aljezur, Portugal. For information about adopting an animal from the centre, contact kerry@azea.org or go to http://www.dogwatch.co.uk.