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So anyone else have a nervous spouse when it comes to the cats?
When it comes down to the nitty gritty, I have to take care of it all. My husband is more than useless around cats. Examples:
- When we travel, he cannot be in the same car as the cats. I have to drive separately. The cats protest travel by yowling their heads off the entire time, and he is convinced they are in pain and suffering and emotionally can't handle it and wants constant checks while the car is moving.
- When I grab the nail clippers, he's constantly telling me to stop hurting them and be careful, because their protests about being held against their will and me manipulating their paws enough to get to the claws has convinced him that they are in pain and he's always worried I'm going to take off too much. He can't handle it to the point of looking at the claw to see how it's hard to cut too much.
- If a cat gets a claw really stuck in the furniture, he can't grab them in a way as to free the claw. He's worried that he'll hurt the cat by grabbing the cat and pulling the leg forward to disengage the hooked part of the claw since the cat is fighting to go backwards.
- He won't hold a cat down if I need a second pair of hands for grooming or home medical treatment. He's convinced doing so will be mean.
- Every time I or the kid pick up a cat, he's freaking out that we aren't supporting the legs right.
- He's at the opposite end of the house if I have to bathe a cat. He can't handle the vocal protests.
- He won't go to the vet. Between the car travel and not able to watch the vet poke and prod and not able to look at a terrified cat, he just can't.
- When I absolutely must pull a determined cat out of a hiding place, he is upset the entire time I've got the scruff of the neck. I'm not lifting them, they are still full weight on the ground, but he can't handle how it looks. Even though they are just fine 30 seconds later cradled in my arms, looking around and checking things out (and of course then I hear about supporting the feet, which I'm already doing).
If I were to die tomorrow, I don't know how they'd make it to the vet. I really don't.
I guess it's because he did not grow up with cats. He didn't learn at an early age that cats protest loudly over any indignation, no matter how harmless the indignation is.
I just want to know if other people are in my shoes.
When it comes down to the nitty gritty, I have to take care of it all. My husband is more than useless around cats. Examples:
- When we travel, he cannot be in the same car as the cats. I have to drive separately. The cats protest travel by yowling their heads off the entire time, and he is convinced they are in pain and suffering and emotionally can't handle it and wants constant checks while the car is moving.
- When I grab the nail clippers, he's constantly telling me to stop hurting them and be careful, because their protests about being held against their will and me manipulating their paws enough to get to the claws has convinced him that they are in pain and he's always worried I'm going to take off too much. He can't handle it to the point of looking at the claw to see how it's hard to cut too much.
- If a cat gets a claw really stuck in the furniture, he can't grab them in a way as to free the claw. He's worried that he'll hurt the cat by grabbing the cat and pulling the leg forward to disengage the hooked part of the claw since the cat is fighting to go backwards.
- He won't hold a cat down if I need a second pair of hands for grooming or home medical treatment. He's convinced doing so will be mean.
- Every time I or the kid pick up a cat, he's freaking out that we aren't supporting the legs right.
- He's at the opposite end of the house if I have to bathe a cat. He can't handle the vocal protests.
- He won't go to the vet. Between the car travel and not able to watch the vet poke and prod and not able to look at a terrified cat, he just can't.
- When I absolutely must pull a determined cat out of a hiding place, he is upset the entire time I've got the scruff of the neck. I'm not lifting them, they are still full weight on the ground, but he can't handle how it looks. Even though they are just fine 30 seconds later cradled in my arms, looking around and checking things out (and of course then I hear about supporting the feet, which I'm already doing).
If I were to die tomorrow, I don't know how they'd make it to the vet. I really don't.
I guess it's because he did not grow up with cats. He didn't learn at an early age that cats protest loudly over any indignation, no matter how harmless the indignation is.
I just want to know if other people are in my shoes.