musings from Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington ... home of The Write Spot

Friday, October 13, 2006


Cats are nature's way of telling us
our furniture is too nice.
Cats are nature's way of telling us our furniture is too nice.

Today's challenge is "destruction"—a perfect fit for my usual Friday cat blog. This old chair in the bedroom has been 'Sam's chair' for napping and window-gazing since the day he came to stay. Despite his love for the comfy perch, however, he won't be convinced to stop shredding the upholstery, wreaking feline destruction at every opportunity.

Sam models his SoftPawsOur vet recommended SoftPaws* and Sam wears them (mostly) uncomplaining, so the rest of my furniture is relatively unscathed. Strangely enough, he seems able to destroy this poor old chair even while wearing his spiffy red claw covers.

"I am Cat. Watch me shred."

Sam is a friend of and Sunday's , hosted this week at House of the (Mostly) Black Cats.

*SoftPaws are a humane alternative to declawing.


At 2:33 pm, Blogger Hot(M)BC said...

Hi Sam!
You're a very handsome kitty. Your red claws look very chic too! We give your purrson a 5 tails salute from us at the House of the (Mostly) Black Cats for using soft paws instead of declawing.
Mini the Cat

At 8:43 pm, Anonymous Kate I said...

Sam is indeed a very handsome cat! I have never hear of SoftPaws before - what a great idea! Athough I don't have a cat at this time, I've had many a chair shredded with the various felines that have allowed me to live with them over the years.

At 12:06 pm, Blogger amanuensis said...

You are lucky to have found those SoftPaws. My dear Aloysius came to us declawed. I'd gladly exchange a bit of upholstery for the chance to see him flex those beautiful claws.

At 10:11 am, Blogger Gayle Miller said...

What is it about cats named Sam? Yours has an absolutely gorgeous face, and so does mine!

I your Sam a rescue? Mine is.

At 11:16 am, Blogger Ostara said...

Yes, Gayle, Sam is a rescue cat. He was three years old when we got together. I don't have details of his old life but suspect he may have been abused*. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was for him, though, and proceeded to announce his name loudly all the way home from the shelter. After 30 minutes of non-stop "SsssAaaammm!" there was no doubt about his name!

*At first he would cringe and cower each time I reached to scratch his ear. Soon, though, he felt secure enough to snuggle on my lap. We've been together 3 years now and he's grown into a confident, trusting, and affectionate companion.



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