The dining room isn’t my favorite place. I only go there if the Mom and Dad person work on my claws. I don’t know what I have done to deserve this, but it must be something really bad.

I try to convince them that it’s not necessary by lowering my head, looking dejected and slumping my whole body. I walk very, very slowly to the designated torture area. But the Mom person still makes me lay down, flips me over on my back and straddles my body with her legs.

She also holds down at least two of my legs, while the Dad person takes this loud, dusty whirring device and proceeds to grind down my claws on the other legs. The Mom person talks to me in a soothing voice, but that’s a big trick–while she’s talking to me like that, I’m shaking like a leaf.

The Mom person is stronger than she looks, for such a short person. She can, if required, completely immobilize my entire body! Did she go to school to learn that?

When the Mom person gets out my leash, I get very excited. The Mom person only gets out the leash if I’m going somewhere in that car thing. She did just that not too long ago and I could barely sit still as she opened the door and then let me get in the back seat of the car thing.

She didn’t open the big window in the roof of the car thing and that disappointed me. I like putting my head out that window and watching the world from a higher vantage point. The people in the other car things are always laughing and pointing their paws at our car thing as I do this. I don’t understand why.

She actually had the audacity to make me lay down on the back seat this time. What up with that? If I got up to look out the side windows, she made me lay down again and got angry if I didn’t! Doesn’t she know that I’m in charge?