Nailed it


Our little Harry man has very long nails. He wriggles like a tapeworm any time the groomer tries to trim them, so his nails keep growing.

This is Harry, also known as Harold Bartholomew:


My beloved recently put floorboards through the house. Harry and his nails have quite a distinctive sound as he bustles and prances his way around the house. He clickety clacks to the doggy door, he taptaptaptaptaps his way to the lounge room and he scritches stealth missions into the kitchen.

Last night, I took my boot off. I’m allowed to take it off for bed and showers. Other than that the boot is my constant companion while my broken ankle heals. For some reason, I saw fit to extend my foot towards my beloved’s leg. With trembling toes, I reached out and began scratching her leg. You see, I can’t manipulate my foot into the correct yoga pose for toenail cutting at the moment, so I am growing some pretty spectacular appendages. These nails are long. I’m giving Harry a run for his Goodo, and that, my friends, is saying something.

The moment my beloved realized what was happening was almost audible.

Her breathing changed, and I knew the tone she was going to use before she even opened her mouth.

“That is disgusting.”

I pulled my foot away, and giggled.

Then I stretched it out again. Scratch, scratch, scratch.

“Would you fuck off?”

“No. I can’t reach to cut them, baby. My ankle is broken, you know.”

It was around this time – 1am, if you’re interested – that she offered to chew the frigging things off.

I felt this was somewhat harsh.

It’s funny, because one of my biggest phobias is unattached toenails. Toenail clippings. They scare the bajeezus out of me.

But if I’m honest, I actually kind of like the idea of being able to clickety clack my way around the floorboards when I am out of the boot. To be able to tap out Morse code messages as I make my way around the house. Obviously it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye, however if someone did lose an eye I could kebab it onto my big toe nail. This would enable me to look under couches and deep inside my shoes.

I told my beloved of these plans. She seemed less than thrilled by my lofty ambitions.

I rolled over and returned to the shredding of the sheets, before I eventually fell asleep and dreamed dreams of a world that appreciated my more brilliant ideas.


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