Yesterday, when I clipped the kittens' claws I did so unscathed. The last two times I had done it I was bitten hard enough by Parsifal to draw blood and the two-fanged effect made me look as though I had had congress with a distracted vampire.
Yesterday I armed myself by putting on a wrist splint which comes up halfway to my elbow. I am not sure if he realised the uselessness of trying to bite through metal splints or if he has finally realised that it is an activity which is going to come up on a weekly basis for the rest of his life, but except for trying to see what I was actually doing, and thus blocking my view of his claws, he submitted without a protest.
A problem not so easily solved has been his determination to get out into the passage without his harness and lead on and a couple of evenings ago he managed it and headed off down the passage with his tail held high and with no intention of returning until he had seen what was at the end of the corridor. Luckily he was distracted by cooking smells from Apartment 702 and I grabbed him and carried him back.
Now I have a spray bottle filled with water just by the door and he doesn't like that one bit so hopefully that is another problem solved. The Selfs are coming over this afternoon and it will be a good test to see if he will ignore a bit of misting to his face for the joy of getting into the corridor or if he will decide that discretion is the better part of valour and that the apartment is more interesting than an empty stretch of carpet without a single wastepaper basket to upend and disembowel.
He sat himself onto my bathroom scales yesterday morning and they registered him as weighing 2.9 kilos. Poppy is not nearly as big and feels as light and fragile as a feather but she holds her own in their rough-and-tumble games, mostly by taking a defensive position on her back so that she can use all four paws to defend herself.
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